Free The Namedropper by Brian Freemantle Page A

curiously.
    â€˜I read somewhere that statements are exchanged between lawyers, in advance of cases beginning?’ Jordan was inwardly churning at having a lie to explain away.
    â€˜That’s the system.’
    â€˜Are facts checked, before cases begin? So that they can be contested in court, if they’re doubted?’
    The frown came back. ‘Sometimes. What’s your problem?’
    â€˜I told Alyce I was a venture capitalist, from a family inheritance.’
    â€˜And you’re not?’
    â€˜I’m a gambler,’ announced Jordan, the vocation long accepted by the British tax authorities.
    â€˜You mean you don’t have a job, an occupation or a business? That that’s all you do, gamble professionally?’
    â€˜Yes. But it’s not as easy as you seem to imagine. To succeed as a professional gambler you’ve got to win more than you lose, as I do.’
    â€˜Why didn’t you tell her what you really did?’
    â€˜I thought venture capitalist sounded better, I guess,’ Jordan said as he shrugged, wishing what he was telling Lesley Corbin sounded better. The agreement with the British tax authorities had taken almost three years, but always through correspondence, never personal encounters like this. Verbally it didn’t sound very convincing. Jordan had perfected a method of providing what the British Inland Revenue finally recognized as legal proof of income but needed to know if it would be accepted by an American court and American lawyers. Even if it was it was going to require great more physical effort. And a lot more dodging and weaving to avoid it being discovered that he was duplicating to satisfy two, not just one, demand. He wished he could better gauge Lesley Corbin’s thoughts from the quizzical expression on her face.
    â€˜You make enough from gambling to live at the best hotels for months at a time, as you did in France?’ she pressed.
    â€˜It fluctuates. I haven’t starved so far.’ Because I very rarely wager any actual money, he thought. She was never going to accept it! She’d see through it as a lie, and a bad one at that, as if through polished glass.
    â€˜Dan wants some financial information,’ she said, flatly.
    â€˜I guessed he might,’ said Jordan, constantly bemused by his unusual honesty. Heavily he went on: ‘I can’t produce audited books, if you know what I mean.’
    The woman smiled, as Jordan hoped she would. ‘Or income tax returns?’
    â€˜I could produce copies of those,’ Jordan promised, glad he’d taken duplicates to remind himself from year to year.
    â€˜So there are tax accepted records, if they’re demanded?’
    â€˜I’d prefer them not to be,’ admitted Jordan, edging forward.
    â€˜Let’s leave official interest for the moment,’ she said. ‘I could accept a cash deposit, to be held in a client account.’
    She wasn’t going to challenge him! It was going to work! ‘Information of which will be made available only to America?’
    â€˜It’s only applicable and required by America,’ she pointed out. ‘I will accept your cash deposit, as I am verbally accepting your instructions. I am not required to know anything more about a source of that cash; that’s Dan’s responsibility. I will talk personally, by telephone, to Dan – not set out the question by letter – and when you get to New York you’ll need to talk in more detail to him. We’ve got to keep in mind how important it is to minimize any publicity. Do you understand?’
    â€˜Very clearly,’ assured Jordan. ‘As I’m sure you understood my concern. How much will you want that deposit to be?’
    â€˜That’s what I’ll talk to Dan about.’
    â€˜I’m glad we’re having this conversation.’
    â€˜To cover as many eventualities as possible is why we’re having this