“What?”

“It's simple. With your involvement, the bank is bound to approve the loan application. You're an established businessman; your development company is a success. With that kind of finance behind Firedrake, it couldn't fail.”

“I'm sorry. It's my job to sell you part of the precinct, not the other way round. I'm not a buyer, Mr. O'Hagen.”

“I'm not asking you to buy. I'm even prepared to pay you.”

Richard carefully poured himself some more Chardonnay. “I don't follow.”

“Look, what we're talking about here is credibility, right? I want financial credibility, and that's what I'll pay you for. You take a half share in Firedrake. It's not worth anything, there are only two shares, and they're valued at a pound each. I told you, it's a virtual company. Memory space on a mainframe, that's all. But if you combine its turnover with your company's involvement, we've got a valid application for an expansion loan. And you get another commercial unit built on the precinct, out of which you make a tidy profit. Nor will you be liable for Firedrake if—God forbid—it goes down the tube. The distribution operation will be a subsidiary which I own. There's no risk in it for you.”

Richard hesitated. The idea almost made sense, and some of the arrangements he'd made on other deals were a lot less orthodox. “If I take a share in Firedrake, the banks will see what you're doing. That would help your credibility, and it would ruin mine.”

“Yes. But if you'd taken that half share two years ago they'd be impressed. It would show that you'd been a part of a promising business for a decent period, and were now confident enough in it to expand.”

“Hmm.” Richard sat back and looked into that impassive face. O'Hagen was earnest, but certainly not pleading. “You mentioned payment. What kind of incentive would I have received to loan you my good name for the past two years?”