Blue Blood

by Peter Tonkin

  To do this - or as much of it as Richard would allow someone other than himself to do - Maggie and Andrew came with a pre-prepared team - like a freezer-meal from Sainsbury’s, as Robin observed. Andrew had a range of expertise areas matched by a wide range of contacts and Maggie had much the same - but in a far different field. Their combined experience was vast, legally, socially, ethnically, nationally and internationally. But it was only the beginning.

  Andrew and Maggie came with full P.I. backup. Not just one specialist investigator - but a whole agency. Almost a whole detective force. The back-up called themselves Bacon, Constable and had offices on Fleet Street; they specialized in the discovery of missing persons, the tracing of vanished assets, the investigation of genealogical associations - in the matter of wills and so forth. Jim Constable was a big, reliable-looking ex-copper and Frances Bacon his partner was a slight, intense woman who had spent many years as a computer specialist at a London-based American security firm. They both seemed enormously competent and capable of doing a lot more things than were mentioned in the literature they brought with them to that first meeting.

  Just as the case against Richard split into seemingly simple sections, so did the preparation of his defence. To begin with, Richard himself was certain that he had copies of all the relevant paperwork from the charity board - going back over the two years of his association. His secretary surrendered the file and Maggie’s acolytes got to work. ‘Don’t often get a sight of so much of the evidence before Preliminary Disclosure,’ she exulted - though obscurely enough to Richard and Robin who were not yet au fait with the whole process.

  Other people at her office began to go through the Act. Normally a team would be going through Archbold and associated texts looking for judicial rulings that set precedents for precise interpretations of the minutiae of the Acts and their extrapolation in the courts.

  But there was no precedent, simply because this was the first case ever to come before a court. So every phrase of the Corporate Killing Act, as penned by the parliamentary draftsmen who had drafted it at the Government’s behest was scrutinized, disembowelled and scrutinized again. Imaginary applications of the Literal Rule and the Golden Rule and the Mischief Rule were tried. The only thing likely to help them further was the ruling as to actual court and the subsequent, resultant, naming of the judge who would sit on the case - for each of the likely contenders had his own reputation, character, track-record to be factored in.

  In less rarefied and much more practical levels, there were the other members of the charity board to be contacted - those whose whereabouts were known and those who had vanished without trace. There were the full details of the board’s dealings - all of which should be somewhere in the public domain - to check; particularly the financial position of the charity in the face of the loss of its major - perhaps single - asset. There were the crew and cadets of Goodman Richard, whose evidence about health and safety aspects aboard would be crucial. Maintenance of hull, masts, rigging; of lifeboats, rafts and ancillary equipment; safety requirements and procedures aboard; the schedules for emergency drills and how fully they were implemented. Corporate policies and whether they were fully adhered to aboard. If they were, were they adequate? If they were not, then who broke the rules and why?

  And, as with the charity board itself, just because some people were missing was no justification for assuming they were dead - even if a post-mortem had declared them to be so.

  This final point was the most crucial of all, and the fact was apparent to all of them right from the outset. For, even were Richard guilty of a range of failures of responsibility, commission and omission in the matter of health and safety on Goodman Richard - either individually or as the last remaining member of the board still in post - he was only guilty of Corporate Killing if someone was, in fact, dead.

  The chief magistrate of the City of London Magistrates’ Court looked up from his pile of papers and glanced around the quiet court-room. ‘Very well,’ he said, as quietly as both the sniggering CPS barrister and Richard’s still-blushing defence brief. ‘This is, as you gentlemen have pointed out, a hearing under Section 51 of the Crime and Disorder Act 1998. Subsection one of that Section is quite clear, and I quote: “Where an adult appears or is brought before a magistrates’ court charged with an offence triable only on indictment, the court shall send him forthwith to the Crown Court for trial - for that offence.” That covers almost all of it, I think. I so order, therefore.

  ‘Captain Richard Mariner, you will present yourself to the Central Criminal Court at the Old Bailey at a time and date of which you will be duly notified. In the meantime I note that the terms of your bail are detailed in the warrant for your arrest. I see no reason to vary them. Bail as before, therefore, and continuous to trial.

  ‘Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. That is all, except that, as I note this is our final session before Christmas, may I wish everyone the compliments of the season.’

  Chapter 19: Pleas

  ‘Captain Richard Mariner. You are charged with Corporate Killing under Section One of the Corporate Killing Act 2007 in that, through omission or commission, as a member of the board of governors of the enterprise known as the Goodman Richard Charity, you did cause the death of Captain James Jones of the vessel Goodman Richard. How do you plead to count one?’

  Richard looked away from the Clerk of the Court with his list of charges, across the well of the steep-sided Court Number One of the Central Criminal Court at the Old Bailey up to the stony, faintly vulpine, face of the judge in the gilded, galleried chair.

  Then, over his shoulder to where Robin was seated, bright and pale as a candle flame, in the crowded public gallery high up behind him.

  ‘Not guilty,’ he answered, as he turned back to face the charge. He spoke loudly and firmly, just as Maggie had told him to. He felt disorientated and slightly foolish - and that was apt enough, for this was April Fools’ Day.

  ‘Very well,’ said His Lordship the judge after a moment of silence. He folded his rising grey eyebrows into a judicious frown between his yellowing wig and his pallid eyes and wrinkled his nose in something of a snarl. And the Pleas and Directions hearing got properly under way. ‘Mr Carver Carpenter?’

  ‘My Lord,’ began Quentin Carver Carpenter, rising to his feet with the smoothly oiled motion of a piston, ‘it is the contention of the Crown that the accused was a member of the charity board of the Goodman Richard Charity, whose sole asset was the vessel of the same name. Whose business was to fill her with teenage cadets drawn from youngsters many of whom had already been through the juvenile justice system.

  ‘Further, it is the Crown’s contention that such a charity falls within the definition of the term “enterprise” as used in Section One of the Corporate Killing Act, though of course we await your direction upon that matter. As a member of such a board, the Crown contends that the defendant would have had responsibilities under the legislation in any case. But it is the further contention of the Crown that Captain Mariner as an experienced seafaring man, holding equivalent responsibilities within his own organization Heritage Mariner Limited, was given specific health and safety responsibilities by the Goodman Richard board, specifically to meet the requirements of the legislation. The Crown contends that Captain Mariner never took these responsibilities seriously, and was at the least derelict in his exercise of them. Indeed, My Lord, that the whole controlling mind of the enterprise was one of dereliction amounting to gross negligence. The Crown holds extensive documentation demonstrating regular non-attendance by Captain Mariner at vital meetings of the board. The Crown contends that, although he visited the ship and met the crew he did so only socially. Captain Mariner never at any time gave any direction for - or indeed made any mention of - health and safety.

  ‘It is the contention of the Crown that, as a direct result of this omission, when the Goodman Richard went to sea on that final, fatal voyage, her hull and her equipment, her practices and procedures, left much to
be desired. So much to be desired, indeed, as to amount to a gross negligence within the definition of the phrase as given in the Act. Which is, in turn, given with reference to which your Lordship will be well aware, to earlier gross negligence legislation and precedent. I refer particularly to the House of Lords’ ruling upon R. v. Adomako 1995.

  ‘And it is the Crown’s contention, My Lord, that these shortcomings, in hull and equipment, lay at the root of the disastrous dismasting that befell the unfortunate Goodman Richard close by Wolf Rock on the day in question. While these further shortcomings in the matters of practice and procedure led Captain Jones and the senior officers of his crew to the desperate expedient of taking the last sound lifeboat and seeking help.

  ‘And the Crown contends that this final, desperate, act led to their disappearance - a disappearance which a duly constituted coroner’s inquest has adjudged to be presumed as death by misadventure.

  ‘Finally I must note a matter of which I am certain your Lordship stands well aware - to wit that this death of a British subject occurred upon a British registered vessel within British territorial waters. It therefore falls well within the remit of this court. I would not normally refer to precedents in this place or at this time, My Lord. But as this is the first time this legislation is to be brought to trial, I will with your permission refer to the precedents of R. v. O’Connor 1997 in the matter of the loss of Pescado, a fishing vessel. And in the case of R. v. Litchfield 1998 on the loss of crew aboard a square-rigged vessel off the coast of Cornwall. A case, I must say, with strikingly similar circumstances to this one which lies before your Lordship now.’

  Carver Carpenter sat with dramatic control, apparently unaware of the whisper of comment that echoed round the confined spaces of the court-room.

  His Lordship the judge pulled his thin, dark lips into the brief ‘V’ that passed for a smile with him. ‘As you point out, Mr Carver Carpenter, it is the first time the legislation will have come to open court. I approve entirely of your approach in the matter therefore. In order that we all may be clear about the central issues in this case, therefore, I will take the unusual step of outlining my own preliminary view of the Act. Firstly, and most crucially, it seems to me that the Act is clear in its intention that the term “enterprise” should cover the widest possible range of businesses, public enterprises, local authority activities, schools, hospitals, charities and so forth. I believe this fact is made clear in the explanatory notes ancillary to the Act. The Goodman Richard Charity falls well within the definition, therefore.

  ‘As to whether all members of the board should be co-equally guilty I am not as certain, but I will rule it to be so, in the hope that the missing Chairman and Secretary might in time be discovered and brought before the courts.

  ‘Finally, I do have precedent on my side when I rule that the case can proceed even though Captain Jones and his officers were lost at sea. Even without your very helpful reference to R. v. O’Connor - where several of the deceased crewmen of the sunken vessel, I believe, remain lost at sea - your case can proceed, even in the absence of a body. As is established I believe by the precedent laid down for murder in R. v. Onufrejczyk, 1955.’

  ‘My Lord,’ Carver Carpenter pistoned to his feet again as though his movement drove the great turbine of the Law itself. ‘May I express my gratitude? It is always a pleasure to have Law from such a distinguished line of lawyers as the Burgo-Blackstones...’

  ‘Oh my, good Lord,’ said Maggie, three weeks earlier, when Richard handed the envelope franked OHMS: Central Criminal Court into her uncharacteristically trembling hand, ‘Lord, let it not be Burgo-Blackstone...’

  ‘What’s the matter with Burgo-Blackstone?’ asked Richard, watching Maggie narrow-eyed across the littered occasional table on the ‘entertainment’ side of his office.

  ‘Look at it like this,’ said Andrew. ‘If Ann Widdecombe or whoever, was right about Michael Howard and there is “something of the night” about him, then there’s more than a touch of Halloween Night about Burgo-Blackstone.’

  ‘He makes Count Dracula look like Father Christmas,’ amplified Maggie, pulling out the letter and unfolding it. ‘Oh let’s not beat about the bush, he is the Lord of the Undead, the Devil Incarnate. And - oh shit! - we have him. Look at this, Andrew. Burgo-bleeding-Blackstone. Christ, it’s just as well the motto of the DaSilvas is “Strength Through Adversity”.’

  ‘Lucky the motto of the Balfours is “Balls Through Bad Luck”,’ rejoined her husband, not to be outdone.

  ‘What’s yours, Richard?’ demanded Maggie, who was tearing the name of the presiding judge out of the letter very carefully and glancing pointedly down at her cigarette lighter.

  “‘Noli Illegitimi Carborundum”,’ he answered manfully. ‘Don’t let the bastards grind you down.’

  ‘Oooh, it’s Latin! carolled Maggie, grimly girlish. ‘Burgo-Blackstone will just love that!’ She held the cursed name above the ashtray and set fire to it; held it still until the flame threatened the perfection of her nail-varnish, then dropped it. Then she had an even better thought, picked it up and used its last flicker of flame to light one of her colourful Sobranie Cocktail cigarettes. The smell of the rich Russian tobacco filled the office and Richard was glad Robin was out. The moment was bad enough without her disapproval.

  Robin had become increasingly tetchy and short-tempered - almost bitter - at the weeks and weeks of work which seemed to be leading nowhere at all. Even the apparently solid, tangible things they had done as the late-running spring approached - like interviewing Paul Ho and the surviving crew of Goodman Richard - and indeed May Chung and the cadets - had pinned down nothing securely. Even their most positive and supportive testimony - and there was plenty of it - might just prove to be fool’s gold in the face of the definitions the judge presiding pulled out of the wording of the new law. Paul Ho’s deposition was as representative as any.

  ‘Yes,’ he’d said, going through things with Maggie in preparation for the actual case, ‘Captain Mariner had been aboard. Yes, he had looked around. He had talked to them all - to Captain Jones and everyone within his command. Yes, he had mentioned the hull, the masts and rigging; he had commented upon the general appearance of good order...’

  ‘Did he mention health and safety?’ Maggie had asked, impersonating Carver Carpenter.

  ‘No. There was no reason for him to do so...’

  ‘None you knew of. Who did you think was responsible for health and safety?’

  ‘The Captain. And I was myself.’

  ‘Good. So you were intimately acquainted with the standard of the rigging, the strength of the masts and so forth...’

  ‘No. My duties were to oversee matters below decks. The lading, the cadets...’

  ‘Who was Captain Jones’s sailing master, then?’

  ‘The Second Lieutenant...’

  ‘So the Captain and the Second Lieutenant would have been able to tell us whether the masts and rigging were shipshape. Or whether, through management failure and penny pinching they merely looked ship-shape...’

  ‘Well, yes. I guess so.’

  ‘And where is the Second Lieutenant now?’

  ‘He went overboard into the lifeboat with the Captain...’

  ‘You see how it’ll be, Paul? When Carver Carpenter starts on you?’

  ‘Yes, Ms DaSilva. Are you sure it will be Mr Carver Carpenter?’

  ‘Certain. We share chambers, remember. He’s making no secret of it, though I haven’t challenged him face to face. We’re avoiding each other as a matter of fact. But he’s the best man for the job, not a doubt about that. If cost is no object. Right, OK. Let’s have the rest of your statement now, Paul. Take us through the actual afternoon in question. Pay particular attention to the incident when you lost the masts, please...’

  Richard’s filing system was no greater help. He had promised his own copies of the minutes he had been shown by Inspector Nolan at Snow Hill, but they were simply not there - with or witho
ut counter-signature by Charles Lee. And the pile of papers his secretary surrendered earlier had proved useless - her log book showed no record that the actual minutes in question had ever actually arrived at his office at all. As Maggie observed, this might make them more suspicious of what game Charles had been playing - but it would also make the prosecution very suspicious of what game Richard had been playing. Better wait to see if they had anything more to disclose.

  But that, in fact, only brought them back to the central, most bitterly frustrating element of the whole matter. The one question whose answer would shed the brightest of lights on to the darkest corners of the whole affair. Where in God’s name were Charles Lee and his friend the accountant Smithers? Right from the word ‘go’ Frances Bacon and Jim Constable had been searching high and low for them. Maggie was certain Carver Carpenter was doing so as well - though he used a different agency for preference. So were the authorities, of course. The Crown Prosecution Service - and the police with whom they were working - would no doubt think either man as important an element in their case as Richard thought they would be to his. For precisely the opposite reasons, of course. And then, in the second month of the case, the authorities’ interest in the missing men became wider still, for the Goodman Richard Charity was insolvent now that Goodman Richard herself was lost. Because the ship was the charity’s only asset. And it had carried no insurance of any kind at all. There were certificates - for insurance of the hull, of the crew and cadets against accident and all the rest. Papers duly signed and counter-signed - and some of them copied in Richard’s files as well as the police’s. But the syndicate at Lloyds of London who supposedly insured everyone against everything had ceased trading some time earlier and the policies weren’t worth the paper they were written on.

  ‘What I don’t understand,’ mused Frances Bacon at one of their meetings soon after the Section 51 hearing at the Mayor and City of London Magistrates’ Court, ‘is why there’s no money missing with them. I mean it looks like a classic scenario for embezzlement and fraud, doesn’t it? It’d all make sense if there were millions missing from Heritage Mariner and hundreds of thousands from the charity. But there just don’t seem to be. Unless I’m missing something here, these men have vanished leaving behind them perfectly well-balanced accounts with every penny where it should be, properly accounted, safe and sound. Even with the insurance mess the charity seems to be in, there’s nothing actually missing if you see what I mean.’