never heard.
‘You could always move office,’ Lorimer ventured.
‘Yeees. Can I get you some coffee, tea, acqua minerale?’
‘No, thank you.’
Jonathan Gale sat down behind his desk, taking care not to crease his jacket. He was a slackly handsome man in his fifties with an even sunbed-bronzed look to him and thinning, oiled-back chestnut hair. Lorimer was relaxed, Gale was in the ninety-nine per cent, he had overcompensated. Gale was also a little too well-dressed, in Lorimer’s verdict. Savile Row suit, yes, but the cut was slightly too tightly waisted, the lapels a little wide, the rear vents a little too long. Also the vibrant cobalt blue shirt with the white collar and cuffs, the pillar-box red of the tie were distinctly lurid – all this and the unfamiliar knobbled leather (mamba? iguana? komodo dragon?) and pointed-ness of the shoes hinted at dandysme, the ultimate sin in Ivan Algomir’s book, the worst sort of pretension. The watch was ostentatious, heavy, gold, rising half an inch off the wrist with many dials and projecting winders. This chronometer was consulted and there ensued some speculation about the tardiness of Francis, whereupon he presently arrived, apologizing.
Francis Home was olive-skinned, wearing a dollar-green suit that only the French and Italians can get away with. He had dark, crinkly hair and a fine gold chain around his right wrist. He smelt of some faint coniferous, cedary aftershave or cologne. Cypriot? Lebanese? Spanish? Egyptian? Syrian? Greek? Like himself, Lorimer knew, there were many types of Englishmen.
Lorimer shook the hand with the gold chain. ‘Mr Hume,’ he pronounced carefully, ‘how do you do? I’m Lorimer Black.’
‘Homey’ Home said with a slight gutteral rasp on the ‘h’. ‘The “e” is not silent.’
Lorimer apologized, repeated his name correctly, coffee was ordered and fetched and they took up their positions.
‘We are simply devastated by the fire,’ Gale said. ‘Shocked. Aren’t we, Francis?’
‘It is a most serious matter for us. The knock-on effect to our operations is… is…’
‘Disastrous.’
‘Precisely’ Home agreed. He had a very slight accent, quasi-American, Lorimer thought. ‘The claim is in,’ Home went on. ‘I assume everything is in order,’ he added, knowing full well it wasn’t.
‘I’m afraid not,’ Lorimer confirmed, sadly. ‘It turns out that the fire in the Fedora Palace was a deliberate one. Arson.’
Gale and Home looked sharply at each other, eyes beaming messages in unfeigned alarm, Lorimer thought.
He continued: ‘It was started by one of your subcon tractors, Edmund, Rintoul, to avoid paying penalty charges. Of course they deny it, categorically.’
Gale and Home’s surprise deepened. They wanted to speak, to curse, to exclaim, Lorimer guessed, but some profound level of caution silenced them. They glanced at each other again, as if waiting for a sleepy prompter: the mood in the room grew darkly serious, stakes increasing by the second.
‘Deliberately? Are you sure?’ Gale managed to say, forcing a baffled smile.
‘It happens all the time. A week or two’s delay is all they’re after, a rescinding of the penalty clause. Force majeure, sort of thing. The trouble with the Fedora Palace was that it all got out of hand, badly out of control. A little bit of damage to the gymnasium would have sufficed – they’d no intention of destroying five floors and the rest.’
‘This is outrageous. Who are these men? They should be in prison, for God’s sake.’
‘They deny everything.’
‘You should prosecute them,’ Home said brutally. ‘Sue. Destroy them. And their families.’
‘Ah, but it’s not our problem, Mr Home. It’s yours.’
There was a silence. Home began to look genuinely troubled, rubbing his hands together persistently to produce an irritating slippery rasp of moist flesh.
‘You’re saying that this will affect payment of the claim in some way’ Gale ventured.
‘Yes, I’m afraid so,’ Lorimer said. ‘In a significant way’ He paused. ‘We will not be paying.’
‘It’s not a question of disagreeing with the valuation?’ Gale asked, still civil.
‘No. But in our opinion it has become a criminal matter. It’s no longer a straightforward claim for fire damage. One of your own contractors has deliberately destroyed a fair proportion of the building. We can’t simply reimburse arsonists, you must understand. The whole city would be ablaze.’
‘What do the police say?’
‘I’ve no idea. These conclusions are a result of our own investigations, carried out by us on behalf of your insurer.’ Lorimer paused. I have no alternative under these circumstances but to advise them – Fortress Sure – not to honour this claim.’ He paused once more, giving a trace of a saddened smile. ‘Until these matters are satisfactorily resolved. It