Ben gave him his and Wolf’s false names. ‘Might it be possible to step into your office a moment, please? We have something important to discuss.’

‘It’s about Anthony Abbott,’ Georgie Seaward said, frowning.

Laverack looked suddenly concerned. ‘Anthony Abbott? But …’

‘Please,’ Ben said firmly, motioning towards the office door.

Laverack sighed. ‘Very well. But I’m not sure that I can be of any help, Mr—’

‘Harris.’

Ben ushered Laverack into his office.

Chapter 40

Wolf followed them inside, closed the door and stood with his back to it and his hands clasped in front of him. It was an intimidating posture, intentionally so. Laverack sat in his desk chair. Ben remained standing.

Laverack was nervous but trying to cover it. ‘So, gentlemen. If I’m to assume that Abbott sent you here, then what is this exactly? The strong-arm routine, to force us to represent his book? I’m afraid that won’t work. We’ve already declined. I might add that if the final decision had been up to me—’

‘That’s of no concern to us,’ Ben cut in. ‘We don’t care about your agency and we don’t work for Abbott. We’re here because we want to see a copy of the manuscript. I know you’ve read it.’

Laverack suddenly looked more worried. ‘Who did you say you were again?’

‘Relax, Mr Laverack. We don’t work for the people he planned to blow the whistle on, either.’

‘I … I don’t understand. If you don’t work for either side, then who do you work for?’

‘We’re freelance,’ Wolf said.

Laverack was pale and had started sweating as he glanced nervously from Ben to Wolf and back again. ‘And why do you want to see the book?’

‘Because of what we believe it contains,’ Ben replied. ‘Certain inflammatory revelations, the details of which we’re keen to obtain for our own purposes.’

‘What purposes?’ Laverack asked in bewilderment.

Just then, there were voices outside in the reception area. One was Georgie Seaward’s, and the other belonged to an angry man who yelled out, ‘What? Why did you let them in?’

A second later, the voice’s owner thrust open the door of Laverack’s office. Wolf stepped aside to let him in. He was shorter and more portly than his colleague. Ben decided this was Roland Seaward, the senior partner, with whom he’d had the pleasure of speaking on the phone earlier.

Seaward’s face was mottled with rage, cheeks glowing bright purple. He glowered at Laverack, then at Ben and Wolf. ‘It’s you again, isn’t it? What part of “we’re not interested” isn’t clear to you people? Go and tell Abbott to find another agency.’

Laverack was about to speak, but Seaward interrupted him. ‘Let me handle this, Andrew.’