This Was a Man (The Clifton Chronicles 7)

“I’ve done a deal,” said Mellor. “I’ve agreed to plead guilty to a lesser charge in exchange for a shorter sentence—another four years, making six in all. With good behavior I could be out in three.”

“Not too long,” said Virginia, trying to sound optimistic.

“Long enough for Sloane to bleed my company dry. By the time I get out, I’ll be left with nothing except the sign above the front door.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Yes, there is, which is why I wanted to see you. I have to get my hands on ten thousand pounds, sharpish. My mother’s will has finally been settled, and although she left me everything, she only had one thing of any value, her semidetached in Salford. The local estate agent has managed to sell it for twelve grand, and I’ve instructed them to make the check out to you. I need someone to pick it up as soon as possible.”

“I’ll go up to Salford on Tuesday,” said Virginia, as she had an even more important meeting on Monday morning. “But what do you want me to do with the money?”

Mellor waited for the camera to pass over him, before he spoke again.

“I need you to hand ten thousand in cash to a business associate. Anything left over will be yours.”

“How will I recognize him?”

“Her,” said Mellor. “Look to my left, and you’ll see a blonde talking to a guy who looks like a heavyweight boxer.” Virginia glanced to her right, and couldn’t miss the two characters who looked as if they might be extras on The Sweeney. “Can you see her?”

Virginia nodded.

“You’re to meet her at the Science Museum. She’ll be waiting by Stephenson’s Rocket on the ground floor. I’ll phone and let you know the details as soon as I have them.”

It would be Virginia’s first visit to the Science Museum.

13

“ALLOW ME TO BEGIN, Lady Virginia, by reminding you that the relationship between a lawyer and his client is sacrosanct, so whatever you tell me concerning this case cannot, and will not, go beyond this room. However, it is equally important,” continued Sir Edward Makepeace, “to stress that if you are not completely frank with me, I cannot advise you to the best of my ability.”

Nicely put, thought Virginia, sitting back and preparing herself for a series of questions she wouldn’t want to answer.

“My first question is quite simple. Are you the mother of the Hon. Frederick Archibald Iain Bruce Fenwick?”

“No, I am not.”

“Are the parents of that child, as stated in Goodman Derrick’s letter, a Mr. and Mrs. Morton, your former butler and his wife?”

“Yes.”

“And therefore the settlement and maintenance payments you received from Mr. Cyrus

T. Grant III—” the QC hesitated—“were made erroneously?”

“Yes, they were.”

“So would it also be correct to suggest that Mr. Grant’s demand,” Sir Edward checked the figure in Lord Goodman’s letter, “for two million pounds, is both fair and reasonable.”

“I’m afraid so.”

“With that in mind, Lady Virginia, I am bound to ask, do you have two million pounds available to pay Mr. Grant, which would avoid him having to issue a writ and all the attendant publicity that would undoubtedly attract?”

“No, I do not, Sir Edward. That is the precise reason I am seeking your advice. I wanted to find out if there are any options left open to me.”

“Are you able to pay a large enough sum for me to attempt to make a settlement?”

“Out of the question, Sir Edward. I don’t have two thousand pounds, let alone two million.”

“I’m grateful for your candid response to all my questions, Lady Virginia. But given the circumstances, it would be pointless for me to attempt to play for time and try to delay proceedings, because Lord Goodman is a wily old bird, and will realize exactly what I’m up to. In any case, you would then have the extra expense of both sides’ legal costs to add to your misfortunes. And the judge would issue an order that all legal bills are paid first.”