Unofficial and Deniable

by John Gordon Davis

  He turned and stalked out of the courtroom.

  49

  The final arguments began at two o’clock that afternoon. The foyer outside court 4B was jam-packed with people, hundreds more milled on the wide stone steps of the justice building hoping to get in. Across the world people watched on television as Edward Vance, pacing elegantly, addressed the jury.

  ‘A perfect murder – that is what the defendant thought he would achieve: no corpse to leave clues as to how Josephine died, no witnesses to gainsay his story – repeat story – that he simply woke up and found her missing.’ He stopped and looked at the jury solemnly, then raised his finger. ‘Ah – but he was so wrong! Because – as I promised you in my opening speech when this trial began – I will prove to you that the gossamer threads of circumstantial evidence hang as heavy as a millstone around his neck …’

  Vance paused, letting that image form in their minds. Then he held up a finger, ‘Thread number one: this is not even gossamer, it is very, very substantial. It is this: why did the defendant, after waking up to find his wife missing, after the horror of finding an empty wheelhouse, empty decks, after the frantic business of searching the sea for her – or so he says – why did he not turn his boat back to Florida where the authorities had all the resources to deal with his crisis?’ He stared at the jury, then waved his hand. ‘Fast, high-powered boats! Helicopters! Radios to call up all ships and tell them to keep a lookout for poor Josephine – who, if his story is true, might well have been alive because she was wearing a life-jacket – or she might have clambered aboard the life-raft he says he threw over.’ Vance paused, looking at the jury in wonder; then his face creased into scorn. ‘The defendant’s answer is that he simply did not think of it!’ He paused. ‘What?’ He pointed at Harker. ‘An experienced senior military officer, accustomed to the responsibility of thousands of men, to the screaming tensions of the battlefield, says “I did not think of it”!’

  Vance stared at the jury with a sarcastic smile. ‘Who does he think he’s kidding?’ He flipped his hand dismissively. ‘And isn’t it a remarkable coincidence, members of the jury, that he could not use his radio because the transmitter, by the most appalling bad luck, just happened to have broken that day? That day of all days, when he really needed it to send an SOS to all vessels to look for his missing wife!’ He frowned in mock sympathy. ‘What rotten luck!’

  Vance picked up his glass of water and took a big swallow, then banged the glass down and cried, ‘Indeed, as his radio was disabled wasn’t there all the more reason for him to hurry to the American authorities in Florida?’ The rhetorical question seemed to echo, then Vance dropped his voice, looking soulfully at the jury. ‘That was thread number two, ladies and gentlemen.’ He frowned. ‘Now let’s look at thread number three! And it is this …’

  Vance paused for the cameras. Then he continued: ‘The defendant finally arrives in the American Virgin Islands after seven days at sea. Seven days of nightmare, as he described it.’ Pause. ‘But does he go ashore and report Josephine’s disappearance to the authorities? To the United States Coast Guard? To the people who have boats plying all over the area where Josephine disappeared, who had the resources to look for her body, solve the question of her disappearance?’ His finger shot up. ‘And perhaps even find her alive on the life-raft he threw over, or on one of the hundreds of Bahamian islands!’ Vance paused again, glaring at the jury in wonder, then cried, ‘Does the defendant do that?’ He shook his head slowly. ‘No … What does he do instead?’ Vance smiled. ‘He sleeps … He sleeps, ladies and gentlemen, sleeps when he could have had the resources of the mightiest nation in the world helping him look for his wife!’ Vance glared at Harker, then dropped his voice. ‘He sleeps … Then he sails on, in the dark, to the British Virgin Islands – which is a sleepy hollow with none of the resources of the US Virgins. And what is his reason for this? He says he was too tense to wait for the new day to begin. So he used up the time steaming through rocky waters, still into the wind …’

  Vance looked at the jury, then frowned angrily. ‘Is that the behaviour of a man who lost his beloved wife overboard and is desperate to tell the authorities?’ He shook his head and his voice rose. ‘No! I suggest to you, members of the jury, that he sailed away from the US Coast Guard because he would rather have this matter investigated by the sleepy British Virgin Islands than the efficient US Coast Guard!’

  Vance paused. Then his finger shot up again. ‘But even then, when he arrived in Road Town, Tortola, and the world was wide awake, did he go ashore and report Josephine’s disappearance?’ He snorted. ‘Again, no. He finally went ashore, yes, and reported his arrival to Immigration, yes, But did he report Josephine’s disappearance to Doris Johnston when he handed in his crew list? Did he?’ His eyes widened. ‘Not even when Mrs Johnston said Josephine had to report in person. Did he? No! Oh, he went on to report Josephine’s death to her insurers, then he reported to her attorney, reported to her father – but did he report to Mrs Johnston and the police, the thing for which he says he had just slogged through seven days and seven nights on the high seas to do?’ Vance paused, a little breathless. He shook his head in disgust. ‘No … Having done everything necessary to make sure he inherits Josephine’s estate, he returns to his boat and settles down to some drinking. In fact it is the police who have to go to him – the next day!’

  Vance jabbed his finger at the floor angrily. ‘And I suggest to you, members of the jury, that the defendant had not the slightest intention of reporting to the police! I suggest that if Mr Humphrey had not gone out to the boat the defendant would have sailed away into the night! And if we need any confirmation of this we only have to look at his behaviour the following day!’ Vance paused, with a righteous frown. ‘What did Mr Humphrey say to the defendant at the end of the first day’s questioning? Mr Humphrey is a very experienced policeman, and he tells us that he clearly told the defendant – whom he suspected of murder, remember; that’s why he impounded both his boat and his passport – he clearly told the defendant to come back the next day at noon for more questioning. But the defendant denies this – he claims that Humphrey said that they would continue after he had considered the evidence. But I ask you two questions, members of the jury. One: which version is most probable?’ He frowned. ‘Isn’t it more probable that Humphrey specified a time and date, having regard to the seriousness of the matter, the quantity of evidence and the fact that the defendant had a boat? And my second question is: why should we believe the defendant when his other behaviour up to this point has been so sinister? Why should we believe a man who has avoided reporting to the police for seven days and nights? Why disbelieve a sensible, experienced, honourable senior police officer like Mr Humphrey?’ Vance paused, letting this question sink in. ‘And now add to that what the defendant did the next day! Knowing he was suspected of murdering Josephine – because his passport had been taken away – and without informing Mr Humphrey of his intentions – he tries to sneak off the island – using an expired passport!’ Vance spread his hands in eloquent appeal. ‘I ask you, why was he so anxious to leave the island that he committed the crime of using an expired passport? Is that the conduct of an innocent man?’

  Vance looked at his audience with beautiful big eyes, then shook his head. ‘And if you’re in any doubt, look at his excuse to the police when he was arrested!’ Vance put his hand on his heart. ‘He says he was only following Mrs Johnston’s orders to return to the Bahamas to get his port clearance papers.’ Vance’s eyes hardened and his voice rose. ‘Then why did he try to take the plane to Guadeloupe, the French island, in the opposite direction to the Bahamas? When one or two hours later there was a perfectly good flight to Puerto Rico with onward connections to Miami and the Bahamas?’ He paused, his brow crinkled in amazement. ‘Why, members of the jury, did he take that opposite direction just two hours before he had a further appointment with the Commissioner of Police? And why, if he was only leaving temporarily to go to Nassau, did he
find it necessary to take his gun? Why did he take the very real risk of being prosecuted?’ Vance put his finger to his brow. ‘I suggest you won’t have much difficulty deciding the answer to those questions! Or to the next: is that the conduct of an innocent man?’

  Vance paused again, his eyes steely.

  ‘And that brings us to the next three threads.’ He smiled and glanced at some notes. ‘We know that the defendant is a man who is prepared to break the law when it suits him; he admits he committed the serious offences of smuggling firearms aboard the aircraft in New York, smuggling arms into the Bahamas, we know he is prepared to break the law by using an expired passport. And we know he is a liar – because he has been caught at it.’ Vance smiled with malice, then held up one finger. ‘Firstly, he lied to us when he initially said he did not know the identity of the Westminster shareholders – when he himself is the owner, and therefore continued to control Harvest House even without poor Josephine having paid him over two million hard-earned dollars to buy his forty-nine per cent!’ Vance looked at the jury in wonder. ‘Oh, the defendant claims that Josephine knew he owned the Westminster shares – but why would Josephine spend over two million dollars to keep her and her husband in control of Harvest when she knew he already controlled it anyway?’

  Vance paused; staring at the jury. Then he spread his hands and appealed to them: ‘I ask you, what kind of a man is it who cheats his own wife out of two million dollars? And why did this man lie to you about this point?’ Vance jabbed his finger. ‘Because he did not want you to know that once he inherited back the forty-nine per cent he had sold poor Josephine he would own one hundred per cent of the three million dollars insurance that he had taken out on her life in Harvest’s name.’ Vance stabbed the air again. ‘I suggest to you good men and women that this proven liar –’ he pointed at the defence table – ‘lied to poor Josephine so that he could milk her for every cent possible … Milk her own insurance policies, milk Harvest’s insurance policy on her …’

  Vance paused, still pointing. Then he continued softly: And now, with all that in mind, consider the question of the guns, which loom large in this case – very, very large! Because I suggest that poor Josephine met her death at the end of a gun!’

  The cameras rolled. Judge Ludman had his eyes down-cast, as did Charlie and Luke. Harker was staring at the floor.

  Vance continued: ‘Of course, the important detail about the little Browning is that the defendant lied to you when he said that Josephine knew he was smuggling it.’ Vance smiled. ‘This is laughable. It is overwhelmingly probable that Josephine would have kicked up a big fuss if she learned that her husband was about to jeopardize her dreams by smuggling a stupid gun aboard an airplane … !’ Vance shook his head. ‘And now we must bear these lies in mind when we turn to look at his story – repeat story – about the other gun, the missing Smith and Wesson .38!’

  Vance paused, raised his glass of water and took an aggressive swallow.

  ‘What is the significance of this missing .38 pistol?’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘It lies in the .38 bullet that was found in the saloon upholstery! And in the bloodstain on the transom – Group B, Josephine’s blood group! What a pity that this pistol is missing because if we had it the ballistic experts could tell us whether or not it was the gun that fired the .38 bullet into the saloon! If it is the gun, the defendant would have to explain how a shot came to be fired from the master cabin down the corridor into the saloon … He would have to explain who fired his gun, tell us where Josephine was when the shot was fired. He’d have to explain why the shot was fired.’ Vance paused, then cried, ‘Obviously they had been fighting! But what were they fighting about?’ Vance glared, then smiled. ‘If we had found the gun the mystery surrounding the broken glass in the speedo, the bloodstain on the transom, the cuts on the defendant’s body, would all be explained …’

  Vance paused again, eyes fixed on the jury; then he gave a theatrical sigh. ‘But, unfortunately, the gun was not found.’ Then he held up his finger brightly. ‘But the licence for it was found! And we know, from the defendant’s own lips, that he successfully smuggled the other gun, the Browning, aboard the aircraft in New York and into the Bahamas, so we know that the .38 could also have been successfully smuggled! And what is the defendant’s explanation for this vital missing gun?’ Vance snorted. ‘He says it was stolen. Oh, but did he report the theft to the police – as he is required to do by law? No. Why not? Sorry, I forgot!’ Vance smirked again. ‘Well, we know that he is a liar … And we know that he avoided turning back to Florida to report Josie missing, that instead he spent seven days battling into the winds to reach the British Virgin Islands. We know that he did not report to the police straight away as any innocent man would have done. We know that the next day he tried to leave the island against the wishes of the police, knowing that he was a suspect. And we know he was so desperate to leave that he attempted to do so with an expired passport on the first available plane even though it was going in totally the wrong direction for Nassau – and carrying an illegal gun!’

  Vance paused again, his eyes both hard and soulful.

  ‘And what,’ he asked softly, ‘is the defendant’s explanation for all this, for what happened on that fateful night? What is this self-confessed liar’s explanation for all these gripping questions?’ Vance glared, and spread his hands. ‘He says “I don’t know what happened, I just found Josephine missing …”’

  Vance looked at the jury fiercely, the repository of the public’s conscience facing the people’s judges, then ended: ‘Ladies and gentlemen, all these threads of circumstantial evidence hang as heavy as a millstone around the neck of this proven liar. I have no doubt that you will treat his story of “I know nothing” with the contempt it deserves, and convict him of murdering Josephine!’

  That address to the jury was seen by many millions of people across the world. The trial had caught the international imagination and around the globe the vast majority decided that Jack Harker was guilty. In his office at the Royalton Hotel in Washington Felix Dupont turned to the American sitting in the armchair.

  ‘He’s a goner.’

  ‘But he still has his appeal,’ the American said. ‘He won’t dare say anything until after that, and then only if his appeal is unsuccessful. And that’s probably a year away.’

  Sitting in his study in the suburbs of Pretoria, General Tanner, formerly officer commanding Military Intelligence, watched Vance’s address with mounting consternation.

  ‘He’s going to be convicted,’ he said to his wife.

  ‘But he hasn’t spilt any beans so far.’

  ‘That’s because he thought he was going to be acquitted, as we all did. But when he’s convicted and standing in the shadow of the electric chair it’ll be a different story. At least they don’t have the death sentence any more in New York State. Life imprisonment is better than the Chair.’ He reached across his desk and picked up his telephone. He dialled.

  ‘What do you think?’ he snapped when the call was answered.

  ‘Not good, sir,’ Felix Dupont said.

  ‘Is Plan A ready to roll if necessary?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘And Plan B?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  In Miami, Luke Mahoney telephoned Ian Redfern in New York. ‘Did you watch it?’ he asked.

  ‘Most of it,’ Redfern said. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘This guy Vance is good,’ Luke said. ‘There shouldn’t be a conviction but there sure could be. Depends on how good Charlie is, of course.’ He added, ‘If this were England he would be acquitted because the judge in his summing-up would sway the jury that way.’

  ‘What do you feel, Luke?’ Redfern said. ‘Speaking not as a lawyer but as an ordinary guy, like the jury are – did he do it?’

  Luke snorted softly. ‘He’s hiding something – he’s not telling the truth. I’m damn sure the CCB is connected to all this but he’s too scared to say it.’

  Re
dfern sighed. ‘And Charlie Benson still knows nothing about all that?’

  ‘Of course not, you can’t have the guy arguing a weak line of defence when he knows there’s a much better one available. Anyway it’s far too late now for Jack to change his story. But old Charlie has kept open the door to the notion of pirates possibly having boarded the yacht.’ Luke glanced at his watch. ‘I must go’n fetch him from Beauty’s.’

  ‘Beauty’s?’

  ‘Bar down the road where old Charlie refreshes himself every day.’

  50

  The public seating was full, the television crews crowded in their allotted space, the press tables crammed. As Charlie and Luke came up the street from Beauty’s pressmen and cameramen converged on them with questions. Old Charlie forged his way through them, beaming his perfect smile, breathing gin, Luke following. They made their way into the building to a barrage of camera flashes.

  Ed Vance and his team were seated at the prosecution table. Charlie sat down at the defence table and nodded at the court orderly. A moment later Harker entered, escorted by two policemen. He looked terrible. He crossed the courtroom and sat down next to Charlie woodenly. Charlie put out his hand and patted Harker’s.

  ‘Relax,’ he breathed. Then: ‘Excuse me …’

  Charlie picked up his water and made his way back to the entrance. He pushed his way back down the foyer to the public toilets. He pulled a half-bottle of gin out of his pocket and emptied it into his water flask, then pulled another bottle from his briefcase. It contained lime juice. He threw a dash into the flask, swirled it around, held it up to the light. He took two sips to check the strength, then a deep swallow for confirmation. He set off back to the courtroom. He made his way up the aisle to the defence table, and sat.