by Olly Jarvis
He shrugged. ‘Just tell the truth.’
Lizzie put a hand to her forehead and rubbed it. ‘To be honest I can’t take all this in, but I know you need help.’ She took out her phone and made a call. It went straight to voicemail. ‘Wait there.’
‘Where are you going?’ he asked, sounding panicked.
She was already running down the stairs.
Chapter Sixteen
Ella looked up from her book, unable to distract herself any longer. He was over an hour late and the online arrival page had showed no delays.
She walked through to the lobby trying to recall the receptionist’s name. Blank. She used to remember everything, even tiny details. That was what made her the best. Reading off the tag, she said, ‘Karen, has anyone left any messages for Ella Blake?’
After a check on the computer, the answer from the receptionist came back negative.
Cameron Shepherd had her mobile number anyway, but why hadn’t he called? She walked out onto the car park and phoned him again.
This time someone answered.
‘Mr Shepherd, everything OK?’ It felt like an age, waiting for a response.
‘Who is this?’
‘It’s Ella Blake.’
‘You’ve called this number a few times.’ The accent was West Coast or maybe Arizonan, but the voice sounded different.
‘Yes, I was just making sure you were on your way?’
‘On the way where?’
Ella was confused. ‘Who is this, please?’
Another pause. ‘Detective Hank Broady, Phoenix Police Department.’
‘Sorry, who?’ She walked back inside. ‘Is this a joke?’
‘No, ma’am, why were you calling Mr Shepherd?’
It was getting too weird. ‘I was supposed to be meeting him in Cambridge.’
‘Cambridge, England?’ The voice sounded as confused as Ella.
‘Yes, he was assisting me with an inquiry.’
‘You police?’ he asked.
It felt like she was being cross-examined. ‘No, I’m a barrister.’
‘What, like a lawyer?’
‘Yes.’
‘What kind of inquiry?’
She’d had enough. ‘I don’t want to be unhelpful but that’s confidential and I should have some kind of confirmation as to your identity.’
Another pause. ‘I see.’
‘Is Mr Shepherd OK?’ Ella walked back and forth inside the lobby.
Silence. Then: ‘No, I’m sorry to tell you, he’s dead.’
‘Dead?’ Ella’s mouth went dry. ‘How?’
‘Car accident.’
She couldn’t quite take it in. ‘I only spoke to him the other day.’
‘Where can I reach you if I need to contact you?’
The question hardly registered. ‘On this number.’
‘No, I need an address?’
‘Oh, I see.’ She thought about it. ‘The Gonville Hotel.’
‘You live in a hotel?’
‘No, just while I’m on this inquiry.’
‘Got it, thanks.’
The line went dead.
Ella walked back outside and began to pace up and down the car park. She wished she hadn’t given him her address but wasn’t sure why.
‘Mum!’ Lizzie’s brakes squealed as she skidded onto the forecourt. ‘I need a favour.’ As she dismounted, she saw her mother properly. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Yeah,’ Ella replied, wiping the moisture from her eyes. ‘Just heard someone died.’
‘Oh my God, I’m so sorry.’
‘It’s OK,’ she replied. ‘I didn’t really know him, it’s just—’
‘Brings back memories?’
She touched Lizzie’s shoulder. ‘Maybe. What’s the favour?’
Lizzie’s expression became intense. ‘I need you to come to court and defend someone.’
‘What do you mean?’ Ella asked, still distracted by the phone call. ‘Who?’
‘Jay Pitois, he’s the college gardener. He’s on trial today at Cambridge Crown and he hasn’t got a lawyer.’
‘Hang on a minute,’ Ella replied, wiping her eyes. ‘I can’t just turn up and defend someone just like that.’
‘Why not?’
‘I’m in the middle of a job, I can’t just bugger off and do a trial, and I’d have to read the brief, get instructed by a solicitor.’
Lizzie’s eyes narrowed. ‘You can take it direct access from the client, can’t you?’
Even the mere thought of court filled Ella with dread. ‘I’d need to prepare; I haven’t been inside a courtroom for three years. It’s impossible. Who is this guy to you anyway, not the one you’re bringing tonight?’
‘No, he’s just a friend.’ Speaking more deliberately she said, ‘I need your help, Mum. Isn’t that enough?’
Lizzie’s pleading eyes reminded Ella of Christmas morning, begging to open her presents. She knew what a no would mean for their almost non-existent relationship. She took a moment, then, despite feeling nauseous at the thought, she replied, ‘OK.’
She expected Lizzie to throw her arms around her, but all she got was a pointed, ‘Thank you. Let’s go, it’s only a couple of minutes up the road.’
Still reeling from the news of Cameron Shepherd’s death, Ella opened the boot of the van and rummaged around for her wig bag.
‘Take one of the hotel’s bikes,’ Lizzie bossed, pointing at the rack.
‘What? I haven’t been on one of them for years.’
‘Come on, Mum, hurry.’
‘OK, OK.’ The whole thing felt like a huge mistake.
Chapter Seventeen
‘That’s him,’ said Lizzie, pointing out the young man sitting on a bench, playing with his phone.
Ella strode over and stretched out an arm. ‘Hi, I’m Ella Blake, Lizzie’s mum. I’m also a barrister.’
‘She’s a top QC,’ added Lizzie.
Jay looked like a rabbit caught in headlights.
Before he had time to respond, Ella said, ‘Let’s go into a conference room and have a chat.’ Old instincts kicking in, she held the door open and shot the client a look of supreme confidence.
‘Miss Blake?’ came a familiar voice from behind her. She swung around to see a young man in a suit. She couldn’t quite place him.
He seemed to be waiting for an acknowledgement, then said, with a hint of indignation, ‘Officer McDonald… we met at The Gonville.’
‘Yes, of course.’ She shook his hand.
‘How’s the inquiry going?’ he asked, checking out the two people with her.
She knew she should tell him about Cameron’s death. For some reason her gut said not to. ‘Slowly. Here for a case?’
‘Yes, a cybercrime, that young man,’ he said flicking his head towards Jay. ‘Just here as the officer in charge to keep an eye, you?’
Just her luck. ‘Likewise.’
His genial persona closed down. ‘Really? You’re for him – Pitois?’
‘’Fraid so,’ she replied, as if in apology.
Lizzie pulled Jay into the room and the door closed behind them.
McDonald glared at Jay through the glass panel in the door. ‘Surprised he has the financial backing?’
‘Pro bono,’ Ella replied. ‘Better get on. I suppose I’ll see you later.’
He stared at her, but said nothing. She turned, but could still feel his eyes in the back of her head as she went into the conference. She sat down in front of the client and spotted the file on the table. ‘Is that the prosecution papers?’
‘Err, yes,’ Jay replied, sliding it across. ‘It’s all they’ve given me.’
Ella saw Lizzie give Jay a reassuring smile.
They sat in silence while she speed-read the documents.
After a few minutes, still immersed in the statements, Ella said, ‘You raised your defence in interview – that’s good.’
Jay glanced at Lizzie. ‘Is it?’
‘It put the onus on them to che
ck it out,’ Ella replied, without taking her eyes off the papers. ‘So, born in Brixton to a Mauritian mother, moved to a council flat in Cambridge with your mum when you were twelve?’
‘Yes.’
‘She was an addict,’ Ella said with no sensitivity. ‘Died of a heroin overdose when you were sixteen?’
‘Mum!’ exclaimed Lizzie. ‘Do you have to be so blunt?’
‘I need to get the facts right – we can use that to soften up the jury.’ She looked at Jay properly for the first time. ‘Caution for a Section 5 Public Order?’
‘Yeah, a climate change rally.’ He looked even more concerned now. ‘Does it matter?’
She ignored the question. ‘You got a scholarship to Cambridge to read computer science?’
Lizzie stared at Jay, open-mouthed.
‘Yeah, I had to defer it,’ he replied, giving Ella a furtive glance in the way shy people do.
‘If you get off this, the place is still open?’
‘Think so.’
She pushed back her chair. ‘Wait there while I go and find the prosecutor.’
Lizzie jumped up. ‘I’m coming.’
Head down and focused, Ella marched off to the robing room with Lizzie a step behind.
Everyone looked up when the off-circuit barrister walked in. A few mis-matched tables were covered with a jumble of bags, small suitcases on wheels and open wig tins with the names of counsel written on them in gold leaf. A couple of junior barristers were putting on their wing collars and bands. Ella was aware of them watching as she unpacked her bag.
She faced them down. ‘Anyone prosecuting Jason Pitois?’
‘Ah yes, the black hat,’ said a man in his fifties, taking his wig out of the tin.
‘He says he’s a white hat,’ Ella replied without any of the customary warmth for a first encounter with opposing counsel.
‘He would say that, wouldn’t he?’ he replied, taking off his day collar and putting his wing on the stud. ‘Jim Stubbs, CPS.’
‘Ella Blake.’
Stubbs’ face lost some of its colour. ‘Queen’s Counsel? I was told he was defending himself?’
‘Change of plan,’ she replied. ‘Why hasn’t he got the schedule of unused material?’
Stubbs glanced at the other barristers, seemingly thrown off by the direct assault. ‘I assumed it was a guilty plea? He hasn’t even served a defence statement.’
‘He made it clear in his interview,’ she replied, opening her wig tin. ‘The police must’ve investigated his defence – where’s the evidence of that?’
The other advocates stopped what they were doing and watched.
‘As you can imagine, I’m sure it’s all very sensitive, he did hack MI6.’
She put on her bands, watching Stubbs in the mirror, and continued the bombardment, ‘Then you’ve seen a sensitive schedule?’
‘Well, err, I—’
She turned around and faced him. ‘Mr Stubbs, he gave a full account in interview and provided an email string with the people that set him up, all that must have been looked into?’
‘It was obviously part of his cover,’ Stubbs replied. ‘In case he got caught.’
‘Come off it,’ she scoffed. ‘It’s the oldest scam in the book. Cyber criminals target an impressionable kid who is great with computers, they tell him the government are interested in employing him for top secret work and they ask him to hack into a site making out it’s to test his ability.’
Stubbs let out a cynical laugh but the atmosphere was deteriorating fast.
‘I’m going to need chapter and verse on whether the police investigation has complied with its duties under code 3.4 of the Criminal Procedure and Investigation Act – to pursue all reasonable lines of inquiry that point away from the defendant.’ She put on her gown and turned back to the mirror. ‘If they’ve sat on this, I’ll be arguing abuse of process.’
Stubbs talked to her back: ‘It would’ve been nice if I’d had these disclosure requests before the day of trial.’
She placed her wig carefully on her head. She’d forgotten how well it suited her. ‘You’d better tell the officer in the case that he’s got to go in the box. It’s a central issue what he has and hasn’t done on the case.’
‘A smoke screen – attacking the investigation?’
Ella knew he was losing his cool. She gave him time to consider the implications.
He fiddled anxiously with his bands. ‘All right, all right, I’ll go and find him.’
‘McDonald? He’s outside,’ Ella replied, pushing a few loose strands of hair under her wig.
Stubbs did a double take then left the room.
The other advocates in the room stared at Ella as she continued getting ready.
Once Ella had applied the war paint, Lizzie followed her out onto the landing.
‘All parties in Jason Pitois to Court One,’ came through the tannoy.
Ella could feel the prickly heat on the back of her neck. She had to keep it together for Lizzie, for Lizzie’s friend. She gritted her teeth, determined to brazen it out.
Beads of sweat formed on her forehead.
‘You OK, Mum?’ asked Lizzie, sounding more surprised than concerned.
‘Yeah,’ she replied, wiping her hands on her gown.
The usher held open the door as the parties filed into court.
The layout was contemporary; light wood panelling without frills and with fold down seats for counsel. A tattooed prison officer stood in the dock with a chain looped from his belt to a bunch of keys bulging in his pocket.
The judge was still on the bench, elbows in front and hands cupping his face. His eyes tracked her as she took her place in counsels’ row and placed her papers on a lectern. He had the judicial default expression of a mix of boredom and mild amusement.
Ella could tell from the fading colour of his purple robes that he was an old hand. She knew her own silk gown gave away her status.
‘Are you Jason Pitois?’ asked the clerk of the court from below the bench.
Jay stood up in the dock and replied in a shaky voice, ‘Yes.’
The dock officer put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down into the seat.
The prosecutor got up to address the court.
The judge gave him his attention. ‘Yes, Mr Stubbs?’
‘May it please Your Honour, I prosecute, and my learned friend, Miss Blake, Queen’s Counsel, defends.’
The judge dipped his head to acknowledge her. ‘Miss Blake, although I am delighted to have such eminent counsel before me, the court understood Mr Pitois was unrepresented?’
‘Yes, apologies, Your Honour, a late instruction.’
‘Not at all, much the preferred course and very pleased for Mr Pitois, if not a little surprised that he can afford someone of your calibre. I’m quite sure the legal aid would not fund the services of Queen’s Counsel?’
‘I’m acting pro bono, Your Honour.’
‘Ah,’ he replied, eyebrows slightly raised. ‘A laudable endeavour.’
She bowed.
He took out a handkerchief and blew his nose. ‘Are we ready to swear a jury?’
Stubbs got up again. ‘We’ve had rather a lot of disclosure requests this morning, Your Honour.’ He made his play: ‘Which is going to take some time, I’m afraid.’
The judge rolled his eyes. ‘How long?’
‘Impossible to say at this stage.’ Stubbs clasped his hands behind his back in full adversarial mode and lowered his tone. ‘It may be Your Honour feels the trial ought to be adjourned?’
The judge raised an eyebrow and turned to defence counsel. ‘Miss Blake?’
Ella took her time getting up. She knew this had to be good to avoid the case being kicked into the long grass and eventually re-fixed for a new trial date when she would be long gone. It wasn’t fair on the kid to have to wait, whatever he had or hadn’t done. ‘Your Honour, this young man has no previous convictions. He was arrested and interviewed nine months ago—’
‘Just a minute,’ interrupted the judge. He opened up his laptop and tapped a couple of buttons. ‘I’m sure I read somewhere that he’s got a public order offence on his record.’
‘Caution, Your Honour, not a conviction. A climate change protest that got out of hand. He wanted to save the planet.’
‘Don’t we all, Miss Blake,’ he replied, seemingly placated. ‘Don’t we all.’ An imperceptible nod indicated that she could continue with her submission.
‘He has a place at Cambridge awaiting the outcome of this matter, Your Honour. His defence has been clear from the outset of these proceedings – that he was manipulated by sophisticated criminals via email – all of which he disclosed to the police. He believed he was working for a government agency and therefore did not believe he was committing a crime.’
‘I’ve read the interview, Miss Blake,’ he interrupted, almost in a growl. ‘But what do you say about an adjournment?’
She took a breath. ‘They’ve had nine months to investigate this case. That’s long enough. My learned friend says he had these requests today but we are talking about enquiries that should have been made months ago. If they can’t satisfy this court that the proper disclosure obligations have been complied with then—’
‘Thank you, Miss Blake,’ the judge cut in. ‘I get the picture.’ He mulled it over then looked across at her opponent. ‘I tend to agree with her, Mr Stubbs. Justice delayed is justice denied. I’ll give the prosecution twenty minutes to provide the unused schedule and then I will hear further argument.’
Clearly struggling to keep up, Stubbs didn’t have a counter.
‘All rise,’ said the usher.
Both counsel bowed as the judge shuffled out.
‘I can see what you’re doing,’ Stubbs hissed across the row.
As Ella walked past him, she replied, ‘Good.’ She looked at Lizzie who had been watching the hearing from the public gallery. ‘Take him back in that conference room, I’ll meet you there.’
Ella went straight into the ladies, shut herself in a cubicle and gulped for air. Once she’d caught her breath, she put the lid down and sat on it, head in hands. Her reaction to the hearing scared her. She wondered whether it was actually about being back in court, or more about all this interaction with people over the last few days. That was a price she’d have to pay if she was going to salvage something with Lizzie. Otherwise, what was the point of anything?