At the start of the next day as arranged, Meredith arrived at Plantation’s office with their barrister, Arthur Riordan. Both of them were shown into the board room where Ashby was waiting with Simon Wells.
Bundles of files, numbered folders, coffee cups and a plate of sticky buns littered the table. The week before, a temporary war room had been set up and while Ashby had been in Athens, Wells had shuttled between Plantation’s office, Meredith’s office, the Oporto wine bar, Riordan’s chambers and one or two restaurants near the Temple, his briefcase bulging with files full of Stratos papers.
Ashby hadn’t met Riordan but found him as expected – public school and Oxbridge, bookish, in his late twenties, dark pinstripe suit, tall and reserved but eager to finish off their preparations for the hearing which was now only the day after tomorrow.
All of them listened to Ashby’s description of what he’d uncovered in Athens. Despite the revelations, Meredith remained pessimistic.
“It all sounds interesting but where does it get us ? The problem is that none of it can be proved, can it ? If the caller at your hotel really was the master of the Captain Stratos, firstly we’d need to find him, then get the Greek police to arrest him. If we tracked him down, that might only show that he’d somehow survived the sinking. Anything could’ve happened to him all this time. As for the Aegean Star, there’s still no hard evidence that it was scuttled, apart from what the mate has said – and he’s refusing to co-operate. So, when you put it all together, it’s not enough to bring the judge around to our point of view.”
“But it does point to fraud, doesn’t it ? Hellas Global are in it up to their necks, somewhere along the way.”
Riordan agreed. “I think you could be onto something and you should have another go at them. Any evidence you can get of criminal fraud and conspiracy between the ship owners and the Captain might overturn any judgment against Plantation. Really, though, it's a question of timing – if you can find Christoforou, that might be just enough for an appeal.”
“Is it likely we’ll be able to track him down ?” said Meredith. “From what you’ve said, Robert, if it really was Christoforou, by this time, he’s gone to ground again and there’ll be no hope of finding him.”
“Seafarers are an unpredictable lot,” said Simon Wells. “I think we need someone down there right away. From what I know of sailors and ship owners, you’ve probably stirred things up enough for them to be worried about it. If it’s common knowledge in Piraeus that Christoforou is a crook, then someone is going to talk if the right incentives are on offer.”
“I’ll see who I can find,” said Ashby, “but on Wednesday, just do your best to buy us time. That’s what we need, isn’t it ? And – I know I’ve asked this before but isn’t there any way at all that we can get the hearing put off for a few months ?”
“It's just not possible,” said Meredith.
“Robert, you don’t know who our judge is, do you ?” asked Riordan.
“I don’t know any judges at all.”
“Well, unfortunately we’ve drawn the short straw. Mr Justice Hedley is an Admiralty judge who hates insurers and always has a sympathetic ear for claimants. I agree with Ed – the trial date will be kept and we’ll be expected to be fully prepared. We’ll have our hands full, just trying to get to the end of our evidence without the judge pulling the plug on us.”
Having said this, the folders, document boxes, papers and files in the Captain Stratos claim were put to one side. Riordan said there were some final preparations for the hearing that he wanted to go over in his chambers. Then he left the meeting, thinking of how creative he would be in writing his skeleton argument.