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Authors: Caro Fraser

Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Mystery & Detective

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BOOK: A Calculating Heart
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Rachel Dean came out of the lift on the seventh floor of the offices of Nichols and Co. and headed for her office, picking up a coffee on the way. In her office she slipped off her jacket, and sat sipping her coffee as she checked through her diary. A ten o’clock meeting with Adriana Papaposilakis. That should be interesting. For some time now she had been working on a case concerning an insurance claim on Miss Papaposilakis’s private yacht, which had caught fire and sunk two years previously in circumstances which left the insurers disinclined to pay out. Following months of fruitless wrangling between solicitors, the case was due to reach a hearing in a few weeks. Throughout the case Rachel had dealt only with Miss Papaposilakis’s PA, Mr Defereras, a small, elderly Greek lawyer who attended to business with scrupulous care and few words. Adriana Papaposilakis herself was something of a mythical creature. All Rachel knew was
that she was a Greek beauty with a formidable business reputation, rumoured to be given to occasional underhand dealing and fiscal evasiveness, traits not uncommon in the average Greek shipping tycoon.

Rachel glanced up and caught Fred Fenton’s eye as he passed by in the corridor. She called out to him and he sauntered in with his coffee.

‘You’ve met Adriana Papaposilakis, haven’t you?’

Fred, a rangy thirty-two-year-old, settled himself in a chair at the other side of her desk. ‘The woman with the impossible name. Yes, I worked on a speed and consumption claim involving one of her vessels last year. We won, as I recall. Why?’

‘I have a meeting with her in an hour. I’m curious to know what she’s like.’

‘She’s – let’s see … How can I put this? She’s very—’ Fred hesitated ‘—very personable.’ Fred smiled and took a sip of his coffee. ‘Built along Dolly Parton lines, though not quite so pneumatic. Blonde, petite, with something of the short-arse complex - dynamic and aggressive, as though compensating. You know the kind? Having said that, she is remarkably attractive, in a somewhat obvious way. The fact that she’s utterly loaded may have some bearing on the way she behaves and is perceived. Probably used to having men eating out of her hand.’

‘And leaving aside her physical attributes?’

‘Oh, as a client? Typical Greek. Doesn’t like handing over information and documents unless absolutely pushed to do so. Always has an eye to the main chance. Not the most straightforward of people. But I don’t suppose
plain dealing goes hand-in-hand with multi-million-dollar fortunes as a rule, does it? Oh, and of course she looks after the pennies. Tiny claims are just as important as big ones. She certainly knows how to take care of business.’

‘I wonder why I’m being favoured with a personal visit,’ mused Rachel.

‘Perhaps this case is very dear to her heart.’ Fred rose from his chair. ‘Let me know how you get on.’

Adriana Papaposilakis arrived twenty minutes late for her appointment, and made no apology. She was shown into Rachel’s office, with Mr Defereras in tow, and immediately the room was filled with a subtle, enchanting fragrance. Even Rachel, who rarely wore perfume, wanted to be able to ask what it was.

She watched as Miss Papaposilakis settled herself into a chair with a queenly air. She was certainly very beautiful – diminutive, shapely, with short, blonde hair and a heart-shaped face and creamy skin. Her eyes were a dark and velvety brown, dramatically made up. She wore a close-fitting suit of a vibrant pink which might have been verging on vulgar, had it not been so beautifully cut, clearly couture, and a discreet quantity of evidently very expensive jewellery. Too many diamonds for daytime, thought Rachel, but she couldn’t help feeling faintly envious of so much serene glamour, and was immediately conscious of her own understated appearance, her navy suit and silk blouse, minimalist pearl earrings and lack of make-up.

After the exchange of a few pleasantries concerning the
Silakis fleet and the parlous state of the shipping business generally, Miss Papaposilakis came quickly to the matter in hand.

‘This case regarding my yacht, Miss Dean. It’s coming to court very soon – yes?’ Her accent was light and pretty.

Rachel nodded. ‘We have a hearing date for July the twenty-fourth. Of course, we’re still attempting to reach a settlement with Bentley’s, but where a claim of fifteen million dollars is concerned, I don’t think there’s a great deal of room for manoeuvre. Not after all these months.’

‘All these insurance companies are crooks. Why else would they refuse to pay out?’

Rachel glanced down at the papers on her desk. ‘I’m afraid the sticking point is the fire which occurred before the vessel sank. Their experts are not convinced that it occurred accidentally.’

‘Miss Dean, a deck boy died in that fire. Do they intend to say in court that my crew started the fire themselves? Deliberately? And put at risk their own lives? And the life of a boy, only eighteen years old?’ Her dark eyes burnt. ‘Why should they do such a thing?’

The question might have been posed rhetorically by Miss Papaposilakis, but it merited an honest answer. ‘As I’m sure you know, if a crew member scuttles a ship,’ replied Rachel, ‘he usually only does it for the benefit of the owner.’ She glanced at Mr Defereras, but his face remained expressionless.

Miss Papaposilakis’s gaze grew stony. ‘That I would
have arranged to have such a thing done? It is outrageous that they should dare to suggest it.’

Well, they haven’t gone as far as actually—’

‘It is what they imply!’

‘If the other side could establish that the fire was started deliberately, that would be the inference, naturally. But as the expert evidence stands at the moment, I think they’d have an uphill struggle proving any such thing, let alone that it was done with your connivance.’

‘Naturally.’ Miss Papaposilakis shrugged. ‘As though I would allow such a thing to be done for a mere few million dollars!’

‘I’m surprised they’ve maintained such an intransigent position, I must confess. But they do seem to be digging their heels in. I doubt very much if there’s any scope left for settlement.’

‘If it is to go to court, it is imperative that I win. It is not just because of the money.’

‘Naturally, we’ll do our utmost—’

‘I want the very best barrister.’

‘Well, as Mr Defereras knows, we’ve already instructed Kate Carpenter. She’s very able—’

Adriana Papaposilakis gave a sigh of impatience and waved a manicured hand, the nails painted the same shade of fuchsia as her suit. ‘No. I already have someone better in mind. A QC called Leo Davies. Have you heard of him?’

Rachel met Miss Papaposilakis’s very direct gaze. ‘Of course.’ She hesitated. ‘I appreciate that the case is important to you, but someone like Mr Davies is very expensive—’

‘Miss Dean,’ interrupted Adriana Papaposilakis, ‘two days ago I paid forty million dollars for thirty Pakistani vessels. In cash. I know when to spend money, and to spend it to good advantage. Instructing a QC to handle this case for me may seem expensive to you, but not to me. I understand Leo Davies is very good. In fact, I hear he is the best. I want him.’

‘He is, as you say, very good. He’s also very busy.’

Adriana nodded. ‘I hope he can make time for this case. I would like you to ensure he does. I expect to hear from you by tomorrow.’ She stood up, and Mr Defereras followed suit. ‘We must go. I have another meeting in quarter of an hour.’

They shook hands, and as Rachel showed Miss Papaposilakis and Mr Defereras to the door, she asked, ‘I’m curious – there are lots of good commercial barristers around … Was there any particular reason why you wanted to instruct Leo Davies?’

Adriana Papapdsilakis smiled. ‘He has a reputation. I like men with reputations. They’re more interesting than most, don’t you think?’

Rachel stood in the doorway till they reached the lift, then closed the door. She went back to her desk and sat down. The delicious scent still hung in the air. She wondered whether Adriana Papaposilakis was aware of the connection between herself and Leo, and if that was why she had come here in person today. To look over Leo’s ex-wife, see how his tastes ran. It was clear enough from her parting remarks why Adriana Papaposilakis had
chosen to instruct Leo, apart from his skills as an advocate. There were half a dozen other silks in London just as able as he was – but not, of course, with his particular brand of magnetism. Rachel could only hope Leo was already heavily committed to some other matter on July the twenty-fourth, and that Miss Papaposilakis, accustomed as she might be to getting what she wanted, would in this instance find her desires thwarted.

Ten minutes later, the phone interrupted her. ‘Mr Davies for you,’ said the girl on the switchboard.

‘Thank you.’ Leo came on the line. ‘Leo, how extraordinary. I’ve just had instructions from a ship owner who has asked particularly for your services. I was about to ring Henry.’

‘Well, why don’t you tell me about it in person? You said you wanted lunch, and I can do today, if you’re free. It’ll have to be quick, though. This afternoon is my first in chambers for several days, and I have a con at two.’

Rachel glanced at her watch. ‘I’ll come over to the Temple. Why don’t you book a table at Drake’s?’

‘Fine. See you there at one.’

Two hours later, as the taxi crawled through the traffic on Ludgate Circus, Rachel wondered what instinct had prompted her to suggest the wine bar where they used to meet in happier times, in the days when she had just met Leo and was utterly in love with him – and he with her, or so she had thought. Because it was easy, somewhere they both knew, that was all. The taxi stopped at the bottom of Fetter Lane, and Rachel got out and paid the driver.
As she walked up the busy street towards the narrow, hidden courtyard in which Drake’s lay tucked away, she felt the sad pang of recreated past pleasures. The truth was that she had chosen this place because it enabled her to pretend, to make believe things were as they had once been. She went into the cool depths of the wine bar. As she sat and waited at the table which Leo had booked, she could already anticipate the fleeting pain it would give her to see him come in, ducking his head slightly in the low doorway. Pain born of the knowledge that this was now, and that the happy future she had once imagined was now in the past. He would come in, she would look up and smile, all just as it had been three years ago – except that life had moved remorselessly on, and things were now utterly different.

A few moments later, Leo came in just as she had imagined, looking unchanged – lean, fit, electrifyingly handsome, his expression preoccupied, not expectant. The smile he gave when he caught sight of her didn’t reach his eyes.

Leo sat down. ‘I’m sorry. I haven’t got as long as I thought. Robert’s brought the con forward to quarter to. I’ll have to make this quick.’ A waitress came over with a wine list. ‘No, just water, thanks.’ He glanced at Rachel. ‘For you?’

She shook her head. ‘Mineral water’s fine.’

They ordered some sandwiches. The waitress went away. How different, thought Rachel. There was nothing of the old, restful intimacy that meetings here had once possessed.
Leo’s manner was charged with restrained impatience.

‘So, who’s this ship owner?’

‘Sorry?’

‘The one you mentioned on the phone earlier.’

‘Oh, yes … Adriana Papaposilakis, head of Silakis Shipping. She came to see me about an insurance claim on some private yacht of hers. There was a fire on board, and Bentley’s, who are acting for the insurer, take the view that it didn’t start accidentally. Not that they’ve gone very far in establishing otherwise, but they’re still refusing to settle. The hearing’s in three weeks’ time. We’ve already instructed Kate Carpenter, but Miss Papaposilakis is insisting that you should be instructed as leader.’

‘The less I have to do with Greek women, the better. They seem to be a disaster in my life.’

‘I take it you mean the Angelicos woman. Is she Greek? She didn’t look it.’

‘Parts of her must be, given the name. What did you say this one is called?’

‘Papaposilakis.’

‘I’ve never done any work for Silakis. Why does she want me?’

‘I asked her that. She said something about your reputation – not that I think she was talking about your professional one, I hasten to add.’ Rachel shrugged and picked up a sandwich. ‘That was the impression I had, at any rate. Maybe she reads the tabloids. She looked like the kind of girl who would.’

‘What’s she like?’ Leo seemed intrigued, and this surprised and mildly annoyed Rachel.

‘Small. Aggressive. Pretty, in a rather obvious way. Clearly not used to the sound of the word “no”.’

‘Given that she’s running one of the largest tanker fleets in the world, that’s hardly surprising.’

Rachel said nothing for a few seconds. She’d assumed Leo would want nothing to do with the case, but he seemed interested. In Miss Papaposilakis, no doubt, rather than the case. She said quickly, ‘It’s a very trivial dispute, probably a waste of your time. It really doesn’t merit a leader. I’ll say you’re tied up on the twenty-fourth, if you like.’

Leo sipped his mineral water, then shook his head. ‘I’m not sure that I am. I’ll have to check. If she’s especially keen to have me, let the lady have her way. Old Henry is going about prophesying doom and the collapse of my practice as a result of this recent scandal, so it might be useful to be able to point to a case that’s actually been generated by my adverse publicity. That’ll show him. As for Miss Papaposilakis, I’ll try not to hold the fact that she’s Greek against her.’ He glanced at Rachel. ‘Another sandwich?’ She shook her head. ‘So – to change the subject, you said a week or so ago that you had something to tell me about yourself and Charles.’

‘I wasn’t going to tell you anything about myself and Charles,’ replied Rachel with swift defensiveness. ‘Only,’ she relented, ‘insofar as it relates to Oliver.’

‘Of course. Fine. Insofar as, then.’

That cool hesitancy of hers – it had been, reflected
Leo, the only thing that had ever turned him on about her. Melting the glacial reserve. Once that had gone, there was very little left that was interesting.

BOOK: A Calculating Heart
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