Calling Down the Storm

by Peter Murphy

  ‘That’s the other problem,’ Barratt said. ‘I’m not sure you could get Rainer to go for having a cup of tea at the moment.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘There’s something going on with him, Harriet,’ Jess explained. ‘He’s told us he’s not feeling well, but there’s something not right. Whatever it is, he’s not concentrating on the case; his mind is wandering the whole time. Ben and Andrew Pilkington are having to repeat themselves twice or three times, just to get his attention.’

  ‘Aubrey didn’t mention that he wasn’t well,’ Harriet said. ‘I could ask him if he knows anything.’

  ‘Forget about that for a moment,’ Ben said. ‘The real question is whether you want to do this. It seems to me that we’re on solid enough legal ground, but if for any reason Conrad Rainer doesn’t agree with us, you’re both hung out to dry, and there’s nothing I can do about it, and there’s nothing the judge can do about it. He’s bound to report you to the Bar Council and the Law Society.’

  ‘Then we’ll make the same argument to them,’ Harriet said. She looked at Val, who nodded.

  ‘You could be committing professional suicide,’ Ben added.

  Harriet shrugged. ‘I think we’re right, and I think Rainer, or a higher court, or someone will agree that we’re right.’

  ‘Harriet, do you really want to stake your entire future on that?’ Jess asked. ‘Do you, Val?’

  ‘Yes, I do,’ Val replied. ‘Susan Lang is not our client any more, and we have a duty as lawyers to do the right thing.’

  ‘I’m just hopelessly stubborn, I’m afraid,’ Harriet said. ‘I get it from my father. I grew up while he was a diplomat in some very dodgy places, and he taught me that when you are surrounded by villainy, you have to stand up for what you know to be right. So for me, it’s a case of “here we go again”.’

  ‘Well, I admire your courage,’ Ben said, after a silence, ‘both of you. But let me suggest that you sleep on it tonight. I don’t have to say anything to Rainer tomorrow; in fact, I can easily put it off until Thursday, perhaps even Friday morning at a pinch. Think about it. Make absolutely sure before you jump.’

  56

  When Aubrey arrived at the Club, Conrad Rainer was waiting for him at the same table as the previous evening. The sight unsettled him. The man was one of his two oldest friends, but he was stretching their friendship more than was comfortable, and Aubrey was feeling very conflicted. Not only had he admitted to committing more than one serious criminal offence, but he had also suggested that his life had spiralled out of control, threatening disaster not only to himself but also to anyone who got too close. Aubrey felt he was already too close, and he was being pulled even closer tonight, just by meeting Conrad again. Not to mention that he had already arranged a meeting with three barristers from whom Conrad had stolen a lot of money; and not to mention that he had already approached Gerry Pole, their mutual friend who had a house on the Isle of Wight – and a 60-foot ocean-going yacht, with all the latest technology, conveniently moored in a marina not a quarter of a mile from his house. Aubrey was a conventional man, who liked to feel he was standing on solid ground, but tonight he was beginning to feel the ground shifting beneath his feet.

  ‘I can’t do a repeat of last night, Conrad,’ he said, as he took his seat. ‘I had far too much to drink, and I didn’t eat enough. I haven’t felt well today. It’s 6.30 now, and I’m going in to dinner at 7.30. You’re welcome to join me if you like, but that’s what I am going to do, with or without you.’

  The trace of a smile crossed Conrad’s face. Luke had approached. Conrad already had a glass of whisky in front of him, but Aubrey was relieved to see no trace of the bottle. Conrad raised his glass by way of request. Luke nodded.

  ‘Just a tonic water for me at the moment, Luke,’ Aubrey said. ‘Ice and lemon.’

  ‘Yes, Mr Smith-Gurney.’

  ‘I’m sorry I kept you so late last night,’ Conrad said. ‘I needed to talk; I needed to tell someone all about it. Thank you for being there for me, for listening. It made a difference. I went home feeling some hope I hadn’t felt for some time.’

  ‘I’m always happy to be there to support you, Conrad, but I’m doing a bit more than just listening, aren’t I?’

  ‘Are you? I can’t ask any more of you, Aubrey. It’s up to you.’

  Aubrey shook his head.

  ‘We’ve been friends all our lives. Of course I’m going to do whatever I can to help. I have no choice. But you must understand, Conrad, I’m Queen’s Counsel. There are some things I can’t do, some things I can’t know…’

  He paused as Luke brought their drinks and exchanged the ashtray.

  ‘There are lines I can’t cross.’

  ‘I’m asking nothing of you, Aubrey, except to listen and give me any advice you can,’ Conrad replied. ‘I won’t be surprised if you have no more to give. If I don’t know what to do, I have no right to expect you to know.’

  He lit a cigarette.

  ‘When all’s said and done, I’m in this on my own. I know that. I stand to lose everything – my judgeship, my wife, my home, everything I have. I stand to end my career in public disgrace. Don’t think I don’t know that, and don’t think I don’t know it’s entirely my own fault.’

  Aubrey took a sip from his glass.

  ‘Well, let’s not assume the worst yet. I’ve been chewing it over since we talked last night, and I think it may be possible to salvage the situation. I can’t guarantee it, but there may be a way. We’re going to need a certain amount of luck, and you’re going to have to play by certain rules from now on.’

  ‘Discipline isn’t my strong point, Aubrey, as you know only too well; never was.’

  ‘Well, that’s going to have to change if you want to survive this.’

  Conrad drank, then inhaled deeply from his cigarette.

  ‘It sounds as if you have a plan of some kind in mind.’

  ‘It’s not a plan exactly,’ Aubrey said. ‘It’s just a matter of being realistic about where you stand. You’re heavily in debt, and some of that debt is linked to serious criminal behaviour. I’m sorry to be blunt about it –’

  ‘Be as blunt as you like. You’re absolutely right.’

  ‘You have to deal with Daniel Cleary first. You owe him a lot of money at an exorbitant rate of interest, and if you don’t pay, you’re very likely to come to serious harm. All right, you could go to the police, but that would have certain consequences –’

  ‘Out of the question.’

  ‘That’s what I thought. So make sure you pay him in full every week, or month, whatever it is, and don’t worry about anything else for now.’

  ‘What if he keeps coming back for more after I’ve paid?’

  ‘Then you may have to go to the police, to save your life, but let’s look on the bright side for now.’

  ‘All right.’

  ‘Assuming you’ve got Cleary out of the way, then you have to deal with Reilly, Weatherall and Cohn.’

  Conrad closed his eyes.

  ‘In some ways, I’d rather deal with Cleary. I feel sick to my stomach every time I think about those little brown envelopes. If I could wind back the clock, that’s the one thing –’

  ‘You can’t wind the clock back, Conrad. What’s done is done. But we can talk to them about what was done.’

  ‘Talk to them?’

  ‘Yes. Actually, I want you to let me do the talking, at least to begin with.’

  Conrad took a long drink.

  ‘How are you going to do that?’

  ‘I’ve arranged a meeting with all three of them in chambers on Thursday afternoon, after court. Stephen Phillips will be there as well, as head of chambers. He would have to know eventually, anyway.’

  Conrad did not reply immediately. He extinguished the cigarette and lit another.

&nb
sp; ‘What are you going to say to them?’

  ‘I’m going to say that you got in over your head through gambling, and that you owe people a lot of money. I’m not going to mention the mortgage or Deborah’s trust fund, but I’m going to have to tell them exactly what you did with their cheques, and I’m going to have to tell them about Daniel Cleary.’

  Conrad sat up abruptly.

  ‘No, for God’s sake. Why do you have to tell them about Cleary?’

  ‘Because I have to give them a reason not to go straight to the police, and I have to give them a reason to wait their turn in the queue to be repaid – to let you pay Cleary off first – and I can’t think of anything else I could say that would have any chance of persuading them to agree to that. If you’re feeling embarrassed about any of this, Conrad, don’t. We’re a long way past embarrassment now.’

  ‘But what if they say no? What if they go straight to the police?’

  ‘I told you we would need some luck.’

  ‘Aubrey…’

  ‘Conrad, how long do you think it will be before they find out? All it takes is for one of them to ask the clerk about a cheque that’s gone missing. The clerk will tell the solicitor, the solicitor will check his bank records and discover that the cheque has been paid, and your chambers will have a major scandal on its hands. The solicitor will be going back over every cheque he’s sent to chambers for the past ten years. How much sympathy do you think you’re going to get then? I’m amazed your luck has held until now. Trust me, it’s not going to last.’

  He took a drink.

  ‘We must talk to them now. And, of course, it goes without saying that you will repay them in full as quickly as you can, as soon as you’ve got rid of Cleary. I have to be able to tell them that, Conrad, and I have to be sure you mean it. Otherwise, I’m at risk of being an accessory after the fact to a large-scale theft, and I’m not prepared to put myself in that position. Do I make myself clear?’

  Conrad nodded.

  ‘Perfectly.’

  ‘Do you agree?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good.’ He paused. ‘If all of that goes well – and it’s a big “if” – you’re left with the mortgage and the trust fund; but at least those are private matters, and even if you have to tell Deborah, at least there’s a chance that they will remain private. Does that make sense?’

  ‘Yes,’ Conrad replied. ‘But as you say, we’re going to need a large slice of luck, and that’s something I haven’t had much of recently.’

  Aubrey shrugged. ‘That’s something we can’t control. We need to take charge now of the things we can control. That means: making the repayments; ending it with Greta once and for all; and staying away from the Clermont Club. Those are the rules from now on, Conrad, and unless you agree to play by those rules, luck won’t enter into it. You will go down without a trace.’

  ‘I had lunch with Gerry today in the City,’ Aubrey went on.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I told him in general terms what has happened. I left out as much detail as I could.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Gerry said you are welcome to contact him whenever you need him. He asked me to tell you that he understands the situation you are in.’

  ‘And he still has his place on the Island?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And his yacht?’

  Aubrey brought both hands down forcibly on the table top.

  ‘That’s all I have to say on that subject.’

  ‘I was only asking –’

  ‘That’s something you will have to ask Gerry. I told you, Conrad, I’m Queen’s Counsel. There are certain things I can’t know.’

  ‘Are you going to join me for dinner?’ Aubrey asked, after a prolonged silence.

  ‘No. I still have no real appetite. I’ll grab a bite later.’

  ‘You didn’t eat yesterday evening either,’ Aubrey said, concerned. ‘You can’t go on like this, Conrad. If your health suffers, you’re not going to be able to push yourself through this.’

  ‘I know. I will eat something later, I promise.’

  ‘All right. I’ll need to know all about the cheques you took from the clerk’s room: cheque numbers, the amounts, whose cheque it was, and so on. Can you send the details to chambers by tomorrow evening?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘Thank you. There’s one more thing, if I may.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  Aubrey took a deep breath.

  ‘In the next day or so, you’re going to have to make a decision about some evidence involving Daniel Cleary.’

  Conrad looked up sharply.

  ‘So you told me yesterday. What of it?’

  ‘It’s my turn to ask something of you. Please understand, it’s something I would only ask in the Club.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘My former pupil, Harriet Fisk, and her instructing solicitor, a woman called Val Turner, have some evidence in Henry Lang’s case which may be very important, perhaps even decisive.’

  ‘Then, why don’t they come forward with it?’

  ‘The evidence consists of a conversation they had with Susan Lang at a time when they were her legal advisers. On the face of it, it’s privileged.’

  Conrad took a drink.

  ‘I’m not sure what you mean by “on the face of it”, Aubrey. Surely, it’s either privileged or it isn’t?’

  ‘I’ve advised Harriet that the privilege should be overridden in this case.’

  ‘Overridden? By what?’

  ‘By the fact that Susan Lang is dead and has no further need for it, and the fact that the evidence is relevant to the defence of a man charged with a criminal offence. I can’t find a rule to that effect, but Cross suggests that it should be the law, and…’

  ‘And you’re asking me to allow the evidence in?’

  ‘I’m asking you not to allow Harriet and her solicitor to get into trouble for coming forward with it,’ Aubrey replied. ‘How you do that, I don’t really care. Actually, I do think it ought to be the law, and I think you’d be doing the right thing if you gave a judgment to that effect. But whether you let the evidence in or not, Harriet and her solicitor are acting out of conscience, and they don’t deserve to suffer for it.’

  He paused.

  ‘Harriet means a great deal to me, Conrad.’

  Conrad nodded.

  ‘In the circumstances, I can hardly say no, can I?’

  ‘Yes, you can, if you wish, and it will make no difference to my efforts to help you. I can’t dictate to a judge in a case I’m not involved in. I know that. I can only ask.’

  57

  After Aubrey had gone in to dinner, Conrad ordered another whisky and sat quietly in the lounge, drinking and smoking, for almost an hour. Finally, he pushed his glass away decisively, said goodnight to Luke, and left the Club. He stood for a moment, allowing the brisk October breeze to chill his face, before turning to his left along Pall Mall, then right on to St James’s, and then left on to Piccadilly. Just before Green Park he crossed the street and made his way along Berkeley Street the short distance to Berkeley Square. Albert was in place outside number 44, ready to open the door for him, with his usual cheery words of welcome.

  Conrad felt some remorse about breaking his word to Aubrey. Aubrey was a good friend, and he was doing his charming, naïve best to help. But he couldn’t allow the remorse to get in the way of what he had to do. It wasn’t as though Aubrey’s plan was exactly foolproof; on the contrary, the path he had suggested was a minefield and even one false step would prove fatal. Aubrey was asking him to take a colossal risk, and Aubrey wasn’t the one facing the exposure. The headlines in the press weren’t hard to imagine. They had been dancing before his eyes for weeks now. High Court Judge to be charged with Forgery. Top Judge stole to satisfy Mistress
. Judge borrowed from Loan Shark to finance Gambling Addiction. They would have a field day, but not just for a day, for months on end. ‘Skeleton in the cupboard’ didn’t begin to describe it. He would be removed as a judge, prosecuted, and imprisoned – and that was before Deborah decided what to do with him. Well, at least he would have earned his place in history, but somehow that wasn’t of much comfort.

  Of course there was one obvious way out. But what if he still had a chance to turn things around? What if he could still beat the odds?

  After so long, the odds of winning at chemin de fer were no mystery to him. The probability of accumulating nine points with two cards, given a full pack of cards, was a simple question of arithmetic. In all the time he had been winning and losing, that probability had not changed; it had remained a constant. The only thing that had changed was his luck. It had been bad for a long time now, but that must mean that it was due to change. That was how luck worked. It was good or bad for a while, then it changed. You had to ride it like an unruly horse, until it bent to your will. You just had to hold your nerve long enough.

  And with his experience, of course, Conrad would not make the mistake of pushing it too far. He would not press on recklessly in search of sudden wealth. All he needed was enough to pay everything off. He owed a lot, but it was nothing a good night couldn’t take care of. He had seen it happen. He had seen men walk away from the Clermont with twice that much after a single night’s play. Once he had what he needed, he would stop. He would walk away from the Clermont, and from Greta. He would once again become what the world believed him to be. If he started with £2,000 and there were some high stakes men at the table, a few hands would see him safe.

  What was the worst that could happen? He would have to raid the trust fund one last time, to make sure he could pay Daniel Cleary. The next payment was due now, and from tomorrow it couldn’t be avoided. But Aubrey didn’t have to know that, and it couldn’t make the situation much worse. And he might walk away from his problems that very night. He might be buying Aubrey dinner the following evening to celebrate the end of the nightmare. Might? He would; of course he would. No one’s luck could be that bad. He just had to believe.