'Is it mine?'

'Is it mine?' she repeated incredulously. 'You're unbelievable! Do I need to remind you that you were the one that went off and had an affair? I have always been one hundred and ten per cent faithful to you.'

His eyes were transfixed on her belly, wondering if you could see anything yet. He reached his hand out; his fingers were trembling.

'But do you want to keep it?' he asked carefully. 'I mean, your career and everything? Is it the right time?'

'Yes, I want to keep it,' she said, her eyes beginning to glisten again. She took his hand and placed it on her completely flat stomach. 'I want to have our our baby,' she said. 'It's always the right time for him.' baby,' she said. 'It's always the right time for him.'

Sam looked up sharply.

'Him?'

'It's twelve weeks old, Sam,' she said proudly. 'I've had a scan, and while they can't tell the s.e.x for sure yet, I think it's a boy.'

Sam really didn't know what to think. His head was spinning. Could he really be the father? Twelve weeks he tried to count back, but so much had happened in the last two or three months, it was hard to get it straight. He knew he'd gone to see Jessica on the Slayer Slayer set, but he really couldn't remember having s.e.x with her. Then again, he was drinking pretty heavily back then. I can't remember having s.e.x with Katie Grey either, he thought mournfully. set, but he really couldn't remember having s.e.x with her. Then again, he was drinking pretty heavily back then. I can't remember having s.e.x with Katie Grey either, he thought mournfully.

Jessica snapped open her handbag and pulled out a photograph the size of a Polaroid. It was just a grainy still, a swirling black and white ma.s.s, but it was still possible to make out a head and a curled body. Sam drew a finger across the tiny person and felt his heart swell. His son His son.

'You are happy?' she said eagerly.

Suddenly he could hear Jim Parker's words at the Robotics Robotics premiere: You need stability. A wife. A family. premiere: You need stability. A wife. A family.

Back then, the very thought of it had terrified him, but somehow, standing here, watching her place her small hand on her pregnant belly, he knew he had to step up to the plate and accept his responsibilities. He had promised himself that he would change. Was this where the real change started happening?

He felt a wave of sadness for a life that had filled him with such excitement an hour earlier and was now sailing swiftly out of reach, like a branch on the rapids.

'Yes, of course,' he said uncertainly. 'It's just ...' He wanted to say, 'I've met someone else, someone I really like, someone I can see myself having a future with', and he wanted to tell Jessica the truth, that he no longer loved her, that he had spent the last two months breathing a sigh of relief that he was free of her. He looked back at the scan. But here was a baby, a real living thing that they had created together. That had to be worth something, didn't it? Perhaps it was everything.

'It's just what, honey?' said Jessica.

'Nothing.' Nothing worth repeating anyway.

'Good,' she said, stroking his cheek with the back of her finger. 'So I should go upstairs, freshen up and then we can talk about things, okay? Like when you're going to do the sensible thing and get your a.s.s back to LA.'

When Sam had gone back downstairs, Jessica unpacked her bag in the master bedroom, hanging her clothes all carefully chosen to show off her body perfectly, of course in the walk-in closet she had designed for herself only two years previously. There were still some of her own dresses and jeans on the shelves Sam had either been too sentimental or too lazy to clear them out. When that was done, she sat down on the bed and took the scan out of her handbag. She looked at it for a moment.

There's no way I want a baby, she thought, acknowledging that she had no maternal instincts whatsoever. This particular foetus belonged had belonged to some dumb starlet Jim represented. She'd been knocked up by one of the big studio heads, and Jim had used the information to get one of his projects green-lit. With that accomplished, he had talked Little Miss Careless into having an abortion, 'for the sake of her career', and had also had the brilliant notion of putting the scan to a second use with Sam. Jessica chuckled; she really admired the way her new agent's mind worked. She just knew that she and Jim Parker were going to have a very long and lucrative friendship.

She put the photo between the pages of a copy of The Secret The Secret she'd picked up at the airport. It would stay there for a few weeks and then she would get rid of it, probably round about the time she would fake her miscarriage. If she hadn't reeled Sam in by then with her body, she would definitely land him with her 'distraught mother' act. She knew how his mind worked better than anyone certainly better than that little tramp lawyer he was supposed to be s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g. If she thought she was going to get her claws into Jessica's gold mine, well, she could think again. she'd picked up at the airport. It would stay there for a few weeks and then she would get rid of it, probably round about the time she would fake her miscarriage. If she hadn't reeled Sam in by then with her body, she would definitely land him with her 'distraught mother' act. She knew how his mind worked better than anyone certainly better than that little tramp lawyer he was supposed to be s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g. If she thought she was going to get her claws into Jessica's gold mine, well, she could think again.

Jessica got up and walked over to the full-length mirror, dropping her dress to the floor. Pretty d.a.m.n hot for a cripple, she smiled to herself, walking into the closet and choosing a figure-hugging jersey dress in a vivid forest green. She hesitated for a moment, then took off her underwear before she slipped the dress on. Oh yes, she thought, smoothing the material down over her skin, I think that will do it.

She blew a kiss towards the mirror and headed for the door.

64

With Helen out of the office, taking a short break to recuperate from the Balon trial at her house in Devon, Matt had had to step up to the plate as commander in chief. For the past forty-eight hours he'd been harangued on an hourly basis to sign expenses slips, payment authorisations, letters of engagement; he wondered how Helen ever got any proper work done at all.

Diane, his PA, popped her head around the door.

'Get your wallet out, Matt,' she said cheerfully.

'Who do I owe money to this time?' he smiled, draining his mug of coffee.

'It's for Sid Travers's present. It's her last day today. You're the only one who hasn't coughed up yet.'

He pushed his hand into his pocket and pulled out two twenty-pound notes, which he put into the metal cash box that Diane was waving in front of him.

'Have we sorted out a leaving do?' he asked.

Diane frowned.

'I don't think so. I think the trainees were going to go out for a drink after work.'

'Why don't you book the back room at Chablis?' he said. Lunch at the local wine bar was the least they could do for Sid, he thought, and he didn't doubt that the rest of the team would welcome the break too.

By the time he walked over to Chablis an hour later, the place was packed. The Donovan Pierce crowd were in the small back room, which had a back door flung open to let in some fresh air. Matt had never seen so many of them in one place outside the office, and he'd certainly never seen them enjoying themselves so much, enthusiastically emptying bottles of Rioja and Perrier Jouet and wolfing the finger food.

'Speech! Speech!' cried David Morrow, waving a gla.s.s of red wine in the air. 'We can't let Sid drink us under the table without making her sing for her supper.'

'Okay, okay,' said Sid, wobbling slightly as she stood on a chair. 'I wasn't going to do this, but seeing as you've all been so kind ...'

There was some whooping and whistling.

'Well, when I say kind,' she added with a sly smile, 'I mean b.a.s.t.a.r.ds for firing me.'

There was a roar of laughter and cries of 'Shame!' and 'Recount!'

Matt watched a fifty-something woman come into the room pushing a buggy. She was obviously in the wrong place, but he had no problem with her having a free gla.s.s of wine if she wanted to.

'I just want to say thanks to Matt Donovan for organising this do.'

'You wait till Helen hears,' shouted someone to nervous laughter.

'And to Anna Kennedy for being a brilliant mentor. It's been fantastic working with you and hopefully we'll stay in touch. I might not be working full-time, though, because I'll have my work cut out with this little one.'

She gestured to the woman with the buggy, who picked up the little boy and pa.s.sed him to her.

'Everyone, meet my son Charlie,' she said. 'Some of you may have wondered why I was sneaking off at six o'clock; well, here's why.'

Matt was flummoxed. He looked over at Anna, who was sharing a knowing smile with Sid.

'Three cheers for Sid!' shouted David.

'And three cheers for Charlie!' added Diane. 'Hip, hip ...'

As the cheers and toasts went on, Edward French took Matt's arm.

'Did you know about this?' asked the partner angrily.

'News to me,' said Matt.

'Duplicitous b.l.o.o.d.y cow,' hissed Edward. 'Hoodwinks us all and then expects us to pay for her leaving drinks? A total cheek, if you ask me.'

'Good for her, I say,' said Matt. 'Keeping all those b.a.l.l.s in the air and not spilling the beans about a toddler. She's got the makings of an excellent lawyer, if you ask me.'

Edward looked at him with ill-disguised disdain.

'Well at least this ridiculous charade is over,' he said, before walking off.

Anna came across holding two gla.s.ses of fizz.

'I thought you might like to wet the baby's head,' she said.

'I take it you knew about this, then?'

'I only found out a week ago. I didn't think it was my place to say anything, not when she was leaving anyway. Besides, I was pretty sure Helen would go up the wall.'

At the mention of Helen, they exchanged a look. Matt had barely spoken to Anna since the night he had found her snooping around Helen's office and heard the strange tale of her investigation into Amy Hart's murder. He could tell she was embarra.s.sed about the intimacy of that evening, and of course the accusations she had made about Helen. Matt had thought long and hard about what she had told him, but the truth was that without more evidence, there was little anyone could do.

'About the other night ...' began Anna, but immediately clammed up as Sid came over to join them.

'Here she is.' Matt smiled. 'The international woman of mystery. Maybe you could consider a career at MI6 with your talent for deception.'

Sid flashed a grin. 'No need. Anna has already arranged an interview for me to work for Ilina Miranova.'

Matt looked impressed.

'So it is is going to be all private jets and beach club business meetings from now on, is it? Very James Bond very you, actually.' going to be all private jets and beach club business meetings from now on, is it? Very James Bond very you, actually.'

'Thanks, Matt, you're one of the good guys. And you're good for the firm. Don't let Helen persuade you otherwise.'

'What do you mean?'

Sid looked at Anna nervously.

'Sid? What is it?' asked Anna, glancing at Matt.

Sid looked as if she was regretting her words.

'The other day I had to deliver an urgent by-hand to Helen. She was having dinner with the partners at n.o.bu well, all the partners but you, Matt. I overheard some things ...'

Matt could tell from the look on Sid's face that he wasn't going to like this one bit.

'She wants you out,' said Sid apologetically. 'I heard her say she wanted to amend the partnership agreement to allow them to oust underperforming partners.'

'And by that she means me?'

Sid nodded. 'That was the gist, yes. I'm sorry ...'

Charlie began crying, and Sid went to see to him.

Matt looked at Anna, who squeezed his arm.

'You can handle her,' she said rea.s.suringly.

Matt was about to reply when Diane tapped him on the shoulder and waggled a mobile phone in his face.

'I've got Jeremy Benson from Blandings and Co. on the line.'

'Who?' mouthed Matt as she handed him the phone. Diane's expression told him that it was serious.

'Is that Donovan?' barked an upper-cla.s.s voice.

'Yes,' he replied.

'Jeremy Benson,' said the man, as if Matt would know exactly who he was talking to. 'It's been six months since the case concluded, and Mr Taht would like the laptop returned. As I am a.s.suming that no appeals are to be made on either side, we would appreciate getting it back immediately.'

'I don't believe we've spoken before, Mr Benson.'

'Don't be an idiot, Donovan,' the other man snapped. 'I've not got time.'

The penny dropped.

'Sorry, Mr Benson. This isn't Larry, I'm Matthew Donovan, his son.'

There was a disapproving tsk.

'Well where the h.e.l.l is he?'

'He's on sick leave, I'm afraid.'

Benson didn't waste any time enquiring about Larry's health.

'So who's dealing with his caseload?'

'Helen Pierce is your first port of call, but she's on holiday.'

'Doesn't anyone work at your firm? Listen, Donovan, or whoever you are, we have made numerous requests about retrieving Mr Taht's laptop, yet we are still waiting. This is a very poor show and I want to know what you're going to do about it.'

Matt tried to keep his cool.

'Leave it with me, Mr Benson. I will track down Mr Taht's property personally.'