Top Of The Shop, Page 2

Then it'll all go away, you'll see.”

  “Perhaps, but as I said earlier, the book might just be a starting point. But it seems you're well covered by insurance, but we still have to consider the effects you might feel personally. I'll keep you informed. Goodbye for now, Martin.”

  Reassured, confident and impressed by his own forethought in buying that insurance, Martin drove home. Tonight, he thought to himself with a smirk, is going to be just as much fun as I thought after all.

  For Martin the next couple of weeks were as pleasant and self-indulgent as he had become used to.

  If the issue of a potential libel case crossed his mind at all it was dismissed, quickly and with a sort of I-don't-want-to-know casualness. I've got insurance, he told himself.

  His life turned in a less pleasant direction when George Hadley rang, asking Martin to call in to the office. Why, Martin asked reasonably enough in his opinion, could the matter not be dealt with by phone?

  “Well, Martin,” Hadley replied, “in my opinion this matter is becoming more serious, and I really think you should take advice on a face-to-face basis. And there are documents that you really should read.” Hadley was tempted to add 'as you don't seem to have done so before' but didn't: he needed a fee for his work and it just didn't do to alienate the client.

  So Martin agreed to go.

  Once Hadley had Martin sitting comfortably in his office he had to face up to an onerous task, one that was going to make his valued client a good deal less happy.

  “Now Martin,” he said in a serious tone, “things have rather taken a turn for the worse, and on several fronts too. Firstly, our initial offer of ten thousand pounds in recognition of the embarrassment that might come from an innocent libel in a book with very low sales has been rejected out of hand, despite being coupled with an undertaking to withdraw all unsold copies of the book.”

  “You mean no more sales?” Martin sounded horrified.

  “No more, but surely that can't be a difficulty, bearing in mind how few have been sold.”

  Martin merely grunted. He didn't enjoy being reminded that his book had sold so poorly.

  “Very well then. It has been pointed out by the other side that copies are to be found in public libraries and are permanent lodgements in the Deposit Libraries of the four Home countries. It is alleged that, as a consequence, the potential extent of the libel far exceeds that suggested by a simple analysis of the book's sales record. It was a point that, I admit, had not occurred to me and I have to say it has some validity.”

  “So how do we respond?” Martin took advantage of a pause, assuming that the revelations were at an end.

  “Were the issue to be limited to the book, I believe that an increased offer, perhaps in the region of twenty five thousand, and a willingness to make some sort of public apology, would close the matter. That would be quite simple as you tell me that you are insured against such claims and the effect would really be quite minimal. But I'm afraid the film has now been brought into the equation and it has been hinted at, in fact quite clearly hinted at, that some simple arithmetic could be applied to scale that offer up in the ratio of the numbers likely to have seen the film against the numbers likely to have read the book.”

  “The ratio of.... I don't understand.”

  “Let us take an example, and say that two thousand people have read the book. At ten thousand pounds we are offering five pounds for each reader. Now, how many people would you say have seen the film?”

  Martin began to think, and his chain of thought was influenced by his own ego. “Oh, let's see, at least a couple of million in this country, ten times that in North America, and a few million in the rest of the world.” He couldn't resist a smile of pride.

  “Very well then, using those figures we come to a figure of, let us say, twenty five million. It seems an awful lot to me, but never mind. If we pay five pounds for each one of those.....” Hadley's voice faded away.

  Shock hit Martin Harrison, and hit him hard.

  “But, but, I can't, I mean, it's impossible!”

  “Yes, I agree, but you begin to see the scale of our difficulty. I imagine that my opposite number will have done his research to decide whether his client's claim is worth pursuit. He probably knows where you live, what cars you have. He will have calculated an approximation of your net worth and guessed at what insurance you carry. He will have a figure in mind at which he could recommend settlement to his client.”

  “What do I do, George? What the hell do I do?” Despair was beginning to supercede shock.

  “Well, I intend to write a response suggesting that whilst we freely acknowledge that the fact of the libel cannot be refuted its effects are far less than they might suggest. In fact those effects are limited to those to whom his client is known and in financial terms any loss of earnings can be assessed reasonably simply, any hurt and embarrassment can be compensated and the total we might be prepared to offer will be related to those factors alone. That will see us settling at a figure that will be much less than a million pounds. Your insurers will cover that much, or course.”

  “Are these other people likely to accept what you say? And how long will I have this hanging over me? I've got Agnetta to think of, you know.”

  “Oh, I think they'll see reason. And if they do, it'll all be over in a couple of months.”

  “OK, but there's still a chance that....?

  “The other side won't take the path of reason? Of course, but it's unlikely.”

  Martin left Hadley's office a worried man. He didn't feel in control, and while he trusted George Hadley he didn't understand all the complexities. If he really had libelled somebody, how could that be assessed in terms of money? It looked like it could be anything from a couple of hundred thousand to some astronomical figure too big to think about. And he was going to have to explain all this to Agnetta. That, he told himself, is going to be difficult.

  Just a short time after Martin left Hadley's office a serious, besuited man sat in an office thousands of miles away. As a corporate attorney for the company which had produced Martin's film, and which was also the company that had just paid Martin a great deal of money for the sequel, he was horrified at what he was reading. It was a missive from a law firm he'd never heard of in England and it told him that Martin's film contained a massive and costly libel. It went on to explain the circumstances and had the attorney searching for the contracts Martin had signed. And he was relieved to find that any and all costs incurred in defending or otherwise taking any action in circumstances such as these could be passed on to Martin. Then he looked at the contract Martin had so recently signed. Well, he thought, there's going to be no sequel now. He drafted, with some relish, a communication to Martin's English lawyers in which he told them, bluntly, that all the costs would be passed on, including his time so far spent, and, furthermore, since Martin had warranted – unequivocally - that there were no circumstances extant prejudicial to the making of a sequel and this was clearly wrong the new contract was void, the sequel was cancelled and all monies paid were to be refunded, with interest. He set out the sum with care and, almost as an afterthought, added a comment that the possibility of legal action against Martin was being seriously considered as he had deliberately misrepresented the situation in England. His company needed to be protected from rogues and shysters who lied to get money, after all.

  Martin walked into his house quietly, Agnetta was at home – he knew because her car was outside – but he needed a few moments to think before he was confronted by her guileless, smiling face in the knowledge that he was going to wipe that smile away. He sat down in what he liked to think of as his library, which contained his desk, a computer and at most a couple of hundred books. He breathed deeply, trying to settle his nerves, before shouting 'I'm home' loud enough to be heard upstairs.

  A minute passed. Agnetta hadn't appeared. Martin was just beginning to think that he ought to check that she really was at home but before he could stand up she walke
d in, carrying a tray with coffee cups and a full cafetiere.

  “I thought you'd like a cup,” she said, placing the tray carefully on Martin's desk.

  “Yes, thanks,” he replied quietly, then after a brief pause added, “look, you'd better sit down. There might be a bit of a problem.”

  It was such an unusual thing for Martin to say. Happy-go-lucky Martin didn't have problems, his life was far too well-cushioned by his money for problems to happen, surely? But Agnetta sat.

  “I might get myself a bit tangled up because I don't think I understand all the ins and outs, but it's my book. I had this character, lived up north somewhere and was a sort of double agent. Anyway, he was the villain, a bad man. Now it turns that that the place where that character lived actually exists, not just the town but the street, and the house too. It's pretty much as I described it.”

  “Is that a problem? Isn't it just realism?”

  “No, because there's a family living in the house.”

  “Yes, I imagine there is. And now the house is famous they can make money, can't they?” Her determinedly positive attitude wasn't making Martin's task any easier.

  “By the most amazing coincidence, the man living there has the same name as my character. He's suing me for libel.”

  “Libel? What is libel?”

  “It means that by complete accident – I mean, I