‘That is very simple, Sir, my understanding is that the Official Secrets Act does not allow for any public interest defence. Mr Isaac should have reported it me or my superiors.’
‘Thank you, Commander. Please wait there, Sir Julian may have some questions.’
‘Indeed, I have. Commander, may I remind you that my client was very unhappy about the disregarding of levels of Sarin used in the experiments and you have been a little vague over the question of dosage. I have in my hand a memorandum about limiting dosages to be used in Sarin experiments. The jury may have already read about your refusal to take any notice but I would….’
‘Your Honour, this is completely unacceptable, I have already asked, and you concurred, that the jury put past matters out of their mind.’ By the time Buller had finished his sentence his face was already showing the signs of bluster.
‘Let me ask you another question. If Mr Isaacs had reported his major concerns to you, what would you have done?’
‘I would have reported the matter higher up the chain of responsibility.’
‘Would you have told them of breaches of the Nuremberg Code. You were in charge, weren’t you, Commander? Or did you let the scientists ‘just get on with it’ on their own. Make their own rules. It was your job to ensure compliance, isn’t that what civilised nations do?’
Buller interrupted again raising his voice gradually into a crescendo.
‘That, your Honour, is slur on the Commander’s position. I demand an apology.’
Ignoring Prosecuting Counsel, who was still standing ominously behind his table, the Judge told Commander Yardley to answer the question.
‘I had received a request from my superiors to ensure that we used the lower range dosage. So far as I know this was adhered to.’
‘My client says that the dosages were reduced, as you say, but to only 200 from 300 milligrams. Were you not told that the dosage should be ten times lower than that?’
Commander Yardley hesitated.
‘Tell the jury what levels were to be used, Commander.’
‘10-15 milligrams were suggested.’ Yardley lowered his head.
‘Thank you.’ Sir Julian turned to Buller and nodded and then asked the Commander.
‘You are also accused by my client of not observing the Rules of Informed Consent. What do you say to that accusation?’
Yardley set out the Nuremberg Code principles emphasising that his scientists had done all they could to explain the risks and answer any concerns of the volunteers.
‘At what point did you turn a blind eye to changes in the way these Informed Consents were obtained?’
Buller was on his feet again.
‘Your Honour, he pleaded, Sir Julian is now blatantly suggesting that the Commander took no notice of his superiors in the Ministry of Defence and Nuremberg Code. This is nonsense and is not acceptable, I want it removed from the record.’
‘Sir Ronald, it may not be very palatable to hear that those at Porton Down may be a law unto themselves, but we are here because it is alleged those ignorances caused the death of a young national serviceman. You may carry on, Sir Julian.’
Sir Julian cross examination of Commander Yardley eventually extracted all the worries that had prompted Solomon Isaac to breach the Official Secrets Act.
Sir Julian decided that his client would not give evidence. It was patently obvious that Buller would unnerve him in cross examination and undermine Sir Julian’s belief that what had been done by his client was not only justified, but because of the breaches of Codes within Porton Down, was in the public’s interest to be published. He hoped it would also ensure that tighter controls on human experimentation were introduced.
In his summing up, the Judge instructed the jury as to the law as it applied to Solomon Isaacs’ actions. The jury must then apply the facts as given to the law and reach a decision on that basis. The emphasis was clearly that Solomon Isaacs was guilty as charged.
As the jury retired, Sir Julian went over to Solomon as he stood in the dock.
‘Let me tell you. They are under no obligation to and should under no circumstances obey the judge's obvious biased directive to convict you, Solomon. They should listen to the judge’s opinion, but should be guided by their conscience, personal convictions and above all salient facts of a case that you and I put to them. Have faith. I’ll see you later.’
Two hours later, the Court reconvened. The Usher took the verdict slip from the jury foreman and passed it to the Judge.
‘Please stand, Mr Isaacs. The jury have found you guilty of the three offences under the Official Secrets Act 1911 that you were charged with. You have, by your actions, jeopardised the national security of your adopted nation. I hereby sentence you to Life Imprisonment with a minimum of 35 years. Take him down.’
Jonny started to read the supplementary notes that had been added.
Chapter 29
London
Jonny had now completed much of his further research and investigation into Solomon’s story and was now ready to talk to him about the ‘Stealing the Staircase’. He rose early. Today he was dressed more soberly than usual. Blue tie, white shirt and grey suit. Unlike Solomon Isaacs, Jonny Wightman needed his recording machine, he couldn’t rely on his memory.
When he arrived at the Carlton Hotel, his watch told him he was twenty minutes early. Time for coffee and a little relaxation. He sat away from the entrance and surveyed the atrium flooding sunlight onto the sweeping mahogany and stainless steel staircase and luxurious plain blue carpet that swept upwards to the first floor landing balustraded in both directions to the various luxury suites on the first floor.
Jonny sipped his coffee taking in, as only a journalist can, the comings and goings of staff and customers alike. Each time his mind wondered to the last words of Solomon’s letter arranging this meeting ‘Jonny Wightman, you have read my story. It was I who gave Mrs Osborne those papers in 1953. That is why I chose you to give my life’s work to’.
At noon precisely, a figure appeared hovering over Jonny’s table. His bald head and grey hair and stooped demeanour belied the picture Jonny Wightman had in his mind. Solomon Isaacs smiled down from above. Jonny rose to greet him taking his hand.
‘We meet at last.’ These were the only words Jonny could think of.
‘Yes, indeed, we do.’
A pot of coffee and biscuits were delivered to the table.
‘Do you mind,’ said Jonny producing a small discreet recording machine. ‘I won’t remember the details, but I suppose you’ll recall every word.’ Solomon nodded as a smiling Jonny pushed the record button.
‘First of all, you promised you’d tell me “why me”.
‘I did, didn’t I. Of course you remember You remember Mrs Osborne and those papers I smuggled to her years ago.’
‘I had seen so much horror with Mengele and his colleagues’ experiments that I couldn’t let it happen anymore. I wasn’t part of that team of scientists, but I heard things I didn’t like and made it my business to find out more. That interference ruined my future and my family’s, but I don’t regret it one bit. Your assessment of deemed consent, breach of the Nuremburg Convention and the use of young innocent conscripts was so well researched, I knew I could trust you implicitly.’
‘Thank you, Solomon, but I must tell you that whilst I have been able to check very much the whole of your manuscript, there are still some loose ends that I cannot verify.
‘I expected that. Such as, exactly?’ quizzed Solomon, knowing the answer. Jonny opened his brief case and took out his notebook.
‘First, what happened to Captain Bron. Did he die in Russia? Second, what happened to Roberta, his daughter? And now thirdly, who was responsible for you being uncovered as the whistle blower at Porton Down?’
‘Jonny, these maybe loose ends but don’t you see, I want to know as well. My book may provoke answers for us. What are we to do next? Put my book out there. Let everyone read it.’
‘Yo
u want me to ghost it for you?’
‘Yes, I do, if you are willing.’
Solomon explained that he had turned Stealing the Staircase to Heaven into a work of code and been allowed to keep the book as his reminder of the years he’d spent in Belmarsh. Jonny’s mouth hung open thinking of the huge mind in front of him as he recalled the thousands of words that had been decoded and typed into the manuscript over the few months since Solomon’s release. He now knew that the contents were accurately recalled by Solomon and would stand the test of the legal team that would undoubtedly be employed to advise the eventual publishers on, amongst other matters, the intricacies of defamation.
Solomon leaned across the table and paused the recorder, he then continued.
‘Since the day I walked out of Belmarsh, someone has had me tailed, hence the use of Mrs Green as my delivery lady,’ said Solomon. ‘I am used to looking over my shoulder, as you may have gathered so it wasn’t hard to spot the team at work.’
Solomon told Jonny about sending the Scotland Yard his typed copy of the original book taken from Belmarsh as a surprise.
Jonny burst out laughing thinking about the faces at Scotland Yard. Solomon smiled momentarily then became serious again.
‘There may be some things in the book that someone somewhere high up is very interested in. I really don’t know.’
‘Solomon, I understand your worry, but isn’t it just possible, probable, that Category A prisoners after their release, are monitored for a while. You were in breach of the Official Secrets Act, after all?’
‘I suppose you may be right, but this feels like something more sinister to me,’ said Solomon reluctantly guiding his paranoia to the back of his mind but still not convinced
Chapter 30
Offices of Quinn Garth Solicitors Temple Street London
Sitting around the oval highly polished table sat five men and one woman. In front of each stacked high were four hundred and twenty one sheets of “Stealing the Staircase”. Pictures of former senior partners of the firm, some in suits, others in court regalia, hung on the wall, looking austerely down on the gathered few.
Solomon sat next to Jonny Wightman, now dressed as he was for their first meeting in a dark suit, blue tie and crisp white shirt. They’d met earlier across the street over coffee so that Jonny could explain the basis of the meeting. He’d also said it was an unusual request in his mind. That of meeting with lawyers was what the publisher did behind closed doors. Later, they had been joined by Rufus Alroyd, the head of what, euphemistically, he called the trouble section.
‘You’re going to be cross examined by some of the top lawyers in the field about certain aspects of your book. Remain calm and just answer the questions, full stop, nothing more. I’m not at all concerned but we, as publishers, need their OK.’ Solomon looked at Rufus.
‘I understand. You’re pumping thousands into this publication and its promotion. You also want me to be able to stand the pressure outside in the real world. Isn’t that part of today’s exercise?’
Rufus smiled. Solomon had hit the nail on its head.
‘My name is Hazel Plowright, Head of our Defamation Department, we have read your very incisive and remarkable story. Defamation, calumny, vilification, or traducement, whatever you want to call it, is the communication of a false statement that harms the reputation of an individual person, business, product, group, government, religion, or nation. In this case, you have covered quite a lot of ground and the devil lurks in the detail as you all know too well. She let the words hover over the table.
For the next three hours, Solomon was subjected to vigorous cross examination by Hazel Plowright, in particular, and the other two lawyers. They’d obviously divided the book into sections with Hazel taking the largest chunk. Every potential false statement was closely scrutinised and not once did Solomon hesitate or change what had been written. The pages were turned, the margins ticked against each cross-examined section until finally silence came. Hazel Plowright looked at her two male colleagues and turned to Rufus Alroyd.
‘You have our blessing, Rufus.’ She then turned to face Solomon again.
‘Dr Isaacs, if I may say so and even if this sounds condescending which it is not meant too, I would love you to join our team here as a Consultant whenever you wish and good luck to you.’ She passed her card across the table. Solomon, who was quite exhausted, managed a smile and bowed his head.
‘One more thing before we wrap up this meeting, I have to say that casting my objective mind aside, I am truly sorry for what happened all those years ago, Dr Isaacs, but I have to warn you that the journey you are about to take will undoubtedly need all your strength and may reveal more ugly truths but I’m sure you realise that. This manuscript will be a “bombshell” to some of those you’ve loved. I can see some problems ahead, Dr Isaacs.’
Chapter 31
Offices of Grange House Publications Eustace Road London
‘So, the manuscript stands,’ said Rufus as he settled into his chair and loosened his tie. A week had gone by since the meeting with the lawyers. ‘Now the marketing strategy.’
‘Rufus, forgive me, but was all this prepared weeks ago, you don’t usually act so, how shall I put it, expeditiously.’
‘Actually, Jonny, we started on this as soon as we saw the first draft. Solomon was right about the lawyers meeting. We just wanted to get the measure of his strength.’ Rufus looked across at Solomon apologetically. He passed across the table to Solomon and Jonny a chronology of dates and proposals for gaining maximum coverage.
‘We, at Grange House, can do so much but it can be somewhat ineffective without your involvement, Solomon. On page one, my team have outlined what we think is the best way forward. You are an unknown and this is an autobiography, so in theory did doesn’t come high on our sales projections. However, it is an exceptional piece of work so first, we need produce and print ARCs (advance reader copies). They are more expensive to produce than the actual book, but with the promotion to the good and worthy of the trade and other hand-picked celebrities that I suggest on page two, I think we’ll overcome that problem.’
Solomon and Jonny looked at page two and were astounded at the list of who’s who and the venue booked for the occasion, not only was this going to be a UK launch but worldwide.
‘You up for a well-rehearsed speech, Solomon?’
The rest of the meeting discussed flap copy, cataloguing, provision of post launch promotions at various high-profile book outlets, advertising and press releases in major newspapers around the world, in-store placement, trade shows, internet promotion.
‘We’ll provide a team for Facebook, Twitter and Blogging for you. You just won’t have the time to do this at first but as these platforms develop, a continued presence will be needed.’
As the meeting was drawing to a close, Rufus turned to Jonny. ‘We think that once the launch has been completed, the Journal should come into the mix, after all your name is credited by Solomon in his Thanks to section effusively. Can you write something that you can print and we can syndicate to similar journals around the globe.’
Jonny had already thought of this, hoping he’d be asked, and produced several close typed sheets and passed them to Rufus with a wry smile.
‘Always the journalist,’ said Rufus putting the papers with his bundle. ‘So, 21 October, then.’
Chapter 32
London
Jonny Wightman did not now know that his life was about to change again dramatically because of Solomon Isaacs, but in a completely different way to that which he expected.
Solomon had arranged to see Jonny the next day at noon. Solomon had said it was urgent but didn’t want to speak over the phone.
Jonny was early and contented himself with catching up with domestic politics in an interesting article in the New Statesman. Two shots rang out. Jonny jumped to his feet to see Solomon stagger out of the open lift door and crumple to the ground, rolling as he tried to regain his balance.
Jonny ran over to him as everyone else seemed to be running for cover in the panic and confusion that followed. Solomon raised his head, as Jonny shouted for someone to get a doctor. He knelt beside him trying to stem the flow of blood from the hole in his chest.
‘Jonny, I recognised the tail….’ mumbled Solomon as he gave in to death.
Solomon Isaacs never finished the sentence that he had wanted to tell Jonny Wightman.
‘I’ll find whoever it was, Solomon. I promise,’ murmured Jonny into unhearing ears. He looked around and grabbed one of the spent shell casings, looking towards the entrance as a darkly dressed figure melted into the chaos and disappeared through the revolving door into the street.
Later that day Rufus Alroyd rang Jonny.
‘What a tragedy. We are all devastated here. Look, I have spoken to Hazel at the lawyers. I am going to postpone everything, let the dust settle, as they say and see where the police investigation goes.’
‘I agree, Rufus. Sensible decision.’
Chapter 33
Russia 1942
Johann Bron was picked up by soldiers of the Red Army 24 hours after he had insisted that Nadine carry on towards the retreating German lines. He now became one of 91,000 German soldiers taken prisoner when the German General von Paulus surrendered. Tired cold and malnourished he survived only to be forced-marched to a camp in Bektova on the outskirts of Stalingrad. Johann watched as hundreds died on that march before the long train journey east into Siberia where the temperature hovered around 30 degrees below zero at night. Before the journey, the box cars lining the marshalling yards were loaded up. Men were crammed together with barely enough room to breathe. There were no windows, nowhere to sit, no food or water. Those who survived had endured the torture for five days. When the box car next to Johann’s was opened, no-one appeared. Eighty-six men were dead. Those from Johann’s box car that had survived were ordered to assemble the dead on the platform. They were piled six foot high. Rigid toppled mannequins frozen in statues of death.
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