Nothing Ventured

by Jeffrey Archer

  ‘It might have been three times.’

  ‘I think you’ll find it was four, Mr Stern. And how many other times were you drunk on duty, but not disciplined?’

  ‘Never,’ said Stern, his voice rising. ‘Just those four times in twenty-eight years.’

  ‘And always on a Friday night?’

  Stern looked puzzled.

  ‘And the second time you were disciplined, could you tell the court what you were charged with on that occasion?’

  ‘I don’t recall. It was such a long time ago.’

  ‘Then let me remind you, Mr Stern. You were caught having sexual intercourse with a prostitute while she was in a cell. Now do you remember?’

  ‘I do. But she was—’

  ‘She was what, Mr Stern?’

  Stern didn’t respond.

  ‘Then perhaps I should remind you what you said on that occasion.’ Sir Julian looked down at the file, while Stern remained silent. ‘“She was a right little scrubber, who got no more and certainly no less than she deserved.”’

  A sudden burst of chattering followed, and Lord Justice Arnott waited for it to subside before asking, ‘Is that not hearsay, Sir Julian?’

  ‘No, m’lud, I was simply reading Mr Stern’s testimony from the tribunal report.’

  The judge nodded gravely.

  ‘Mr Stern, you told the court just a few moments ago that you were only disciplined on three occasions, but that was the fifth occasion, and I haven’t finished yet.’

  All three judges had their eyes fixed on the witness.

  ‘I meant for three different offences.’

  ‘So you don’t always say what you mean.’

  Stern looked as if he was about to respond, but just clenched his fists.

  ‘Then let’s move on to the sixth incident, after which a full inquiry took place, and you were suspended for six months.’

  ‘On full pay, after which the charges were dropped.’

  ‘That’s not entirely accurate, is it, Mr Stern? You actually took early retirement only weeks before the inquiry was completed. And on that occasion, you were charged with stealing four thousand pounds from a prisoner while he was in custody.’

  ‘He was a drug dealer.’

  ‘Was he indeed?’ said Sir Julian. ‘So you consider it’s acceptable for a police officer to steal from a drug dealer?’

  ‘I didn’t say that. You’re putting words in my mouth. In any case, he withdrew the allegation the following day.’

  ‘I’m sure he did. However—’

  ‘I think we should move on, Sir Julian,’ interrupted Lord Justice Arnott, ‘to the role this officer played at Mr Rainsford’s trial.’

  ‘As you wish, m’lud,’ said Sir Julian, nodding to Grace, who handed him the second file. ‘At Mr Rainsford’s trial, Mr Stern, would I be right in thinking you were the senior officer investigating the crime?’

  ‘Yes, I was,’ said Stern, looking as if he thought he was back on safer ground.

  ‘Did you, in the course of your investigations, ever consider trying to find the short, heavily built man my client repeatedly told you ran past him in the corridor of his office, on the night of the murder?’

  ‘The mystery man, you mean?’ said Stern. ‘Why bother, when he was nothing more than a figment of Rainsford’s imagination.’

  ‘And you also made no attempt to trace the anonymous caller who reported Mr Kirkland’s death to the police.’

  ‘Isn’t that what anonymous means?’ said Stern, who laughed, but no one else did.

  ‘Didn’t it occur to you, Mr Stern, that the anonymous call could only have come from someone who had actually witnessed the crime?’

  ‘But Rainsford confessed. What more do you want?’

  ‘I want justice,’ said Sir Julian. ‘And with that seemingly innocent remark, Mr Stern, you have raised the crucial unanswered question in this case. Who is the honest broker – you, or Mr Rainsford?’

  ‘I am,’ said Stern, ‘as the jury concluded.’

  ‘Then you won’t have any trouble convincing three judges, will you?’

  Stern stared up at the bench, at three men who gave no clue what they were thinking.

  Sir Julian allowed their lordships a moment before he continued, ‘Was Mr Rainsford telling the truth when he said his original statement, which you took down, consisted of three pages, one of which subsequently went missing? Or are we to believe, as you stated under oath in the witness box during the trial, that there were only ever two pages?’

  ‘There never was a middle page,’ said Stern.

  ‘Middle page, Mr Stern? I made no mention of a middle page.’

  ‘What’s the difference?’

  ‘The difference is that it shows you knew which page was missing. Let me ask, did you number the pages of Mr Rainsford’s statement?’

  ‘Of course I did, one and two, and Rainsford signed them both. And what’s more, DC Clarkson and me witnessed his signature.’

  ‘But when did DC Clarkson witness that statement, Mr Stern?’

  Stern hesitated before saying, ‘The following morning.’

  ‘Giving you more than enough time to remove the middle page.’

  ‘How many times do I have to tell you there was never a middle page.’

  ‘We only have your word for that, Mr Stern.’

  ‘And DC Clarkson, who went on to be promoted, not to mention the jury who didn’t seem to be in any doubt that your client was guilty.’

  ‘Some considerable doubt, I would suggest,’ said Sir Julian, cutting him short, ‘because they took four days to reach a verdict, and then only by a majority of ten to two.’

  ‘That was good enough for me,’ said Stern, his voice rising slightly.

  ‘Of course it was,’ said Sir Julian, ‘because it allowed you to finish your career on a high, as you so elegantly put it, and walk away without having to face yet another inquiry.’

  Mr Alun Llewellyn QC, who was appearing for the Crown, rose reluctantly from the other end of the bench and said, ‘Can I remind my learned friend that it’s his client who is on trial, and not Mr Stern.’

  A smug look appeared on Stern’s face.

  ‘Were you sober when you arrested Arthur Rainsford at 5.30 that Friday afternoon?’ asked Sir Julian.

  ‘Sober as a judge,’ said Stern, grinning at the three judges, none of whom returned the compliment.

  ‘And also when you booked him in at 6.42?’ he said, checking his notes.

  ‘As a judge,’ repeated Stern.

  ‘And when you locked him up at 6.49, and left him alone in his cell for nearly two hours?’

  ‘I wanted to give him enough time to think about what he was going to say, didn’t I?’ said Stern, smiling at the three judges.

  ‘While giving yourself enough time to down a few pints, having banged up another villain on a Friday night.’

  Stern clenched his fists and stared defiantly at his adversary. ‘What if I did have a couple of pints? I was sober enough to—’

  ‘Sober enough to take down Mr Rainsford’s statement at 8.23.’

  ‘Yes, yes, yes,’ said Stern, his voice rising with every word. ‘How many times do I have to tell you?’

  ‘And sober enough to remove the middle page of my client’s statement later that night to ensure you retired on a high?’

  ‘I never removed anything that night,’ Stern snapped back.

  ‘Then the next morning perhaps?’ said Sir Julian calmly. ‘I imagine you were sober enough to remove it the following morning.’

  ‘And I was sober enough the night before to make sure the bastard got no more and certainly no less than he deserved,’ shouted Stern, jabbing a finger in the direction of defence counsel.

  A stony silence hung over the court, as everyone in the room stared at the witness.

  ‘“And I was sober enough the night before to make sure the bastard got no more and certainly no less than he deserved,”’ repeated Sir Julian, returning Stern’s star
e. ‘No further questions, My Lords.’

  ‘You may step down, Mr Stern,’ said Lord Justice Arnott wearily.

  As Stern made his way out of the court, Sir Julian looked up at the three judges, who were deep in conversation. Grace interrupted his thoughts when she leant across and said, ‘I have to leave you for a moment. I won’t be long.’

  Sir Julian nodded as his junior made her way quickly out of the courtroom, down the wide marble staircase and onto the street, where a posse of photographers were waiting for a ‘today’ photo of Faulkner as he left the court. Their only chance of getting a picture of Arthur Rainsford would be if he left the court as a free man.

  Grace watched them from a distance for some time, before selecting the one whose eyes were continually on the lookout for a front-page picture. She crossed the road and whispered to him, ‘Can I have a private word?’

  The snapper peeled away from the rest of the group and listened to her request.

  ‘Only too delighted to help,’ he said as Grace slipped him a five-pound note. ‘That won’t be necessary, miss,’ he added, handing back the money. ‘Arthur Rainsford should never have gone to jail in the first place.’

  30

  THE FOLLOWING MORNING Sir Julian arrived at the Royal Courts of Justice an hour before the trial was due to recommence. A clerk accompanied him and Grace down to the cells in the basement, so they could consult with their client.

  ‘You demolished Stern,’ said Arthur, shaking Sir Julian warmly by the hand. ‘If you’d represented me at my original trial, the verdict might well have gone the other way.’

  ‘It’s kind of you to say so, Arthur, but while I may have landed the occasional blow, unfortunately I didn’t knock Stern out. And the fact remains, we’re in front of three high court judges, not a jury. Their lordships’ decision will be based not on reasonable doubt but on far more demanding criteria, before they can consider overturning the jury’s decision and declaring a miscarriage of justice. A great deal now depends on Professor Abrahams’ testimony.’

  ‘I’m not altogether sure how the three venerable Solomons will react to the professor,’ said Grace.

  ‘Nor am I,’ admitted Sir Julian. ‘But he’s our best hope.’

  ‘You’ve still got Detective Sergeant Clarkson to cross-examine,’ Arthur reminded him.

  ‘Stern’s sidekick will only parrot what his master has already said. You can be sure he and Stern spent last night in a pub analysing every one of my questions.’ Sir Julian checked his watch. ‘We’d better get going. Can’t afford to keep their lordships waiting.’

  ‘You ran rings around my wife yesterday, BW,’ said Faulkner, over breakfast at the Savoy.

  ‘Thank you, Miles. But when Palmer cross-examines you, you’ll still have to explain to the jury where the Rembrandt has been for the past seven years, how you got hold of it in the first place, and why you switched the labels on the crates. You’d better have some pretty convincing answers to all those questions, and several more besides, because Palmer will come at you all guns blazing.’

  ‘I’ll be ready for him. And I’ve decided to make that sacrifice you recommended.’

  ‘Very prudent. But keep that particular card up your sleeve for the time being, and leave me to decide when you should play it.’

  ‘Understood, BW. So what happens next?’

  ‘The Crown will put up Commander Hawksby, and he’ll undoubtedly back up your wife’s story. For him, she’s the lesser of two evils.’

  ‘Then you’ll have to demolish him.’

  ‘I don’t intend to cross-examine him.’

  ‘Why not?’ demanded Faulkner, as a waiter poured them more coffee.

  ‘Hawksby’s an old pro, and juries trust him, so we need the commander out of harm’s way as quickly as possible.’

  ‘But that doesn’t apply to the choirboy,’ said Faulkner.

  ‘Agreed, but the Crown won’t be letting him anywhere near the witness box. It would be too much of a risk.’

  ‘Then why don’t we call him?’

  ‘Also too much of a risk. Warwick’s an unknown quantity, and barristers always like to know the answer before they ask a question. That way, they can’t be taken by surprise. So frankly, Miles, I need you to be at your sparkling best, because the most important thing in the jury’s minds when they’re considering their verdict will be your credibility.’

  ‘No pressure,’ said Miles.

  ‘You’ve been in tight spots before.’

  ‘Never this tight.’

  ‘That’s why you have to be on the top of your game.’

  ‘And if I’m not?’

  Booth Watson drained his coffee before replying, ‘You won’t be having bacon and eggs at the Savoy again for some considerable time.’

  THE CROWN V. RAINSFORD

  ‘My Lords, in the tradition of the English criminal bar, a leader may call upon his junior to conduct one of the examinations in chief during a trial. With Your Lordships’ permission, I will invite my junior to examine the next witness.’

  ‘Permission granted, Sir Julian,’ responded Lord Justice Arnott after a brief consultation with his colleagues. He then gave Grace the warmest smile he’d managed throughout the trial.

  Grace rose unsteadily to her feet, aware that not only was everyone staring at her, but Arthur Rainsford’s fate now rested in her hands. All those years of study and training, not to mention the hours spent at the feet of her father as he interpreted the law and explained court procedure to her. Now he was passing on the baton, expecting her to run the final lap.

  Sir Julian sat back, hoping it wasn’t too obvious that he was just as nervous as his daughter. It didn’t help Grace that her mother was seated between Beth and Joanna Rainsford at the back of the court, both leaning forward and looking like football fans eagerly awaiting the first goal.

  Grace placed her file on the little stand her father had given her on the day she joined him in chambers. She opened it, looked down at the first page and her mind went blank.

  ‘Are you ready to call the next witness, Ms Warwick?’ asked Lord Justice Arnott, sounding like a benevolent uncle.

  ‘We call Professor Leonard Abrahams,’ said Grace, surprised by how self-assured her voice sounded, because her legs weren’t experiencing the same confidence.

  If the courtroom door hadn’t opened and closed, observers might have been forgiven for wondering if the next witness had actually entered the room. Abrahams blinked, looked around, and finally spotted the witness box in the far corner of the court. When he reached it, he was surprised to find that there was no chair for him to sit in, and that he would be expected to remain standing throughout his cross-examination. Typical of the British, he thought.

  The clerk held up a card, showing no surprise that the witness was wearing a short white lab coat and an open-necked green shirt. Abrahams placed one hand on the Bible – well, at least the Old Testament – before reading out the words, ‘I swear by Almighty God that the evidence I shall give shall be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth,’ before adding, ‘so help me God.’

  He then peered around the courtroom, relieved to see that his little box of tricks had been set out on the floor between the witness box and the three judges, just as he’d requested.

  His gaze finally settled on Grace, one of the brightest young women he’d come across in many years of teaching bright young women. He’d liked her from the moment they’d met at Heathrow, but it was only later that he’d come to respect her grasp of detail and her patient pursuit of the facts as well as her passionate belief in justice. He wondered if Sir Julian realized just how talented his daughter was.

  ‘Professor Abrahams,’ said Grace, ‘I would like to begin by asking you about your background, in order that their lordships may appreciate the particular skills and expertise you bring to this case.’ He’d become so used to Grace calling him Len, that he was taken by surprise when she addressed him as professor. ‘What is your nationality,
professor?’

  ‘I’m an American, although I was born in Poland. I emigrated to the United States at the age of seventeen, when I won a scholarship to study physics at Columbia University in New York. I completed my doctorate at Brown, when I wrote my thesis on the use of ESDA in criminal cases.’

  ‘ESDA?’ repeated Grace, for the benefit of everyone else in the court, other than the two of them.

  ‘Electrostatic Detection Apparatus.’

  ‘And you have since written two major works on the subject, and recently been awarded the National Medal of Science.’

  ‘That is correct.’

  ‘In addition to which, you—’

  ‘I think you have established, Ms Warwick,’ interjected Lord Justice Arnott, ‘that the professor is pre-eminent in his field. Perhaps it’s time for you to show us what relevance his expertise has in this particular case. I only hope,’ he added, turning to face the witness, ‘that my colleagues and I will be able to follow you, professor.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Your Honour,’ said Abrahams. ‘I’ll treat all three of you as if you were freshmen.’

  Sir Julian held his breath, while Grace stared anxiously at the judges, waiting for a stern rebuke, but none was forthcoming. Their lordships just smiled, when Lord Justice Arnott said, ‘That’s most considerate of you, professor, and I hope you’ll forgive me if I find it necessary to ask you the occasional question.’

  ‘Fire away at any time, Your Honour. And in answer to your first question, about the relevance of ESDA to this particular case, I have to admit, I wouldn’t have considered taking on this assignment had it not given me an opportunity to visit my mother.’

  ‘Your mother lives in England?’ asked Lord Justice Arnott.

  ‘No, Your Honour, in Warsaw. But England’s on the way.’

  ‘I’ve never thought of England as being on the way to anywhere,’ said the judge, ‘but please continue, professor.’

  ‘To do so, Your Honour, I must first explain why ESDA is now considered by the American Bar Association to be an important weapon in its armoury. That wasn’t always the case. The change took place quite recently, when a congressman whom I intensely dislike told the court during his trial for fraud that he had read every page of a sensitive military procurement document, and suspected that some pages had been added at a later date. I was able to prove he had lied to the court, which resulted in him not only having to resign from office, but also ending up in jail for a long time.’