Sometimes the lawyers descend on the offices of the managing agent, and sometimes there’s a gathering over at the 58 Building, the LCO. But now, midway through the Ottoman Air dispute, we all trooped along to Lincoln’s Inn where our barrister had his chambers. I met Lee Chan outside in the street; she was wandering up and down peering at lists of names beside each door. ‘Lost?’ I was ready for the cold shoulder, but instead what I got was a half-arsed smile. ‘Bewildered,’ she said. She fell into step beside me and we continued on down the pavement. We hadn’t gone ten yards before she asked, ‘Any news on Ward?' I pursed my lips. ‘No comment?' ‘None you’d like to hear, Lee.’ She sniffed, she wasn’t too pleased with me. I guess she’d been looking forward to giving her friends back at the LCO the inside gen, but all I could think of was how quickly the story had spread. How long would it be now before the media got hold of it, and what would Bill Tyler do if they did?
