Felicity Garrard answered.
‘There’s a pre-trial review the week before the trial. It will only last a few minutes and it won’t be before the trial judge; he’s not arriving in Nottingham until the week of the trial.’
There was a knock on the door and the prison officer re-appeared. ‘It’s five to five.’
‘Actually, it’s only ten to,’ contradicted Everdene, sharply. ‘But we are ready to leave. Goodbye, Miss Hamilton. And don’t worry, The Lord Chief Justice will not be presiding over your case.’
‘Do we know who the trial judge will be?’
‘We do. Mr Justice Hornbeam. He’s a fair tribunal, or so I’m told. I haven’t come across him myself, but it will be the jury we need to concern ourselves with, not the judge.’
Julia appeared downcast. Everdene couldn’t help feeling sympathy for her. Those eyes of hers! He spoke softly.
‘Don’t worry, now. I know that’s what barristers always say, but as things presently stand, there are some real weaknesses in the prosecution case. I shall enjoy exploiting them.’
Julia’s expression changed rapidly after they departed. Mr. Justice Hornbeam, she said to herself with a smile. Now there’s a happy co-incidence.
Chapter Ten
Edward Markham-Moore had never been invited to Harold Cronshaw’s flat before. It was situated on the top floor of one of the few buildings in Gray’s Inn to escape destruction or major damage during the Second World War and involved quite a climb up the narrow wooden staircase. He was breathing heavily when he arrived at the door where the distinguished silk was waiting to welcome him. Cronshaw ushered him into his sitting room and pointed to the lovely view of the Walks from his window. ‘I often sit here in the summer months - when I have a moment – very relaxing.’
Laid out in the early seventeenth century by Francis Bacon, the gardens were springing into life, the cold of winter gradually giving way to slightly warmer conditions. It had been a mild day for late February, a precursor to the soft spring days to come. Banks of daffodils danced in the evening breeze as one of the Inn’s employees closed and locked the ornate iron gates – later than should have been the case, noted Cronshaw. The old plane trees that had stood there for decades were still prominent, but in smaller numbers following the hurricane of 1987. Cronshaw handed his junior a glass of Gevrey Chambertin as he pointed out the twisted trunk of an ancient capalta tree, just visible in the descending darkness. It had been almost flattened by an uprooted plane tree as the Walks were battered by that unanticipated windstorm.
‘This my favourite part of London,’ murmured Cronshaw. ‘You can keep your Middle Temple gardens! It’s difficult to believe we are almost in the centre of one of the largest cities in the world. Can you imagine what this land would fetch if it were zoned for building? Not that it would ever happen, of course. Some of my visitors can hardly believe there is such a spacious and impressive garden here. I always like it at dusk when the lights come on. One can almost imagine one is in a different century.’
Markham-Moore nodded and took a sip of his wine. ‘Marvellous.’
‘The wine or the view?’
‘Both – tastes very expensive.’
‘Clos-St Jacques nineteen eight-seven. The year of the hurricane. I laid down three dozen the year I was married. As you know my wife was killed eight years later.’
He paused and briefly looked away his face clouded with sadness. Then he spoke more cheerfully.
‘It’s only recently I’ve felt able to drink any of it. I hope you don’t think it’s too early? I thought we could have dinner in Hall later. You’ll come as my guest, of course.’
‘I’m flattered you’ve opened such a distinguished wine for me and I’d be delighted to dine in Hall with you.’
‘Think nothing of it. I know you’re a bit of a connoisseur and I wanted to pick your brains, so a decent wine seemed a necessary preliminary. You’re an Inner Temple man yourself, if I recall correctly?’
‘That’s right. I nearly joined Gray’s, but my uncle was a bencher of Inner Temple and he thought I should carry on the family connection.’
Cronshaw chuckled to himself and ushered his former pupil to a seat on the sofa and positioned himself in his comfortable wing chair.
‘Well I suppose I can forgive you. I had no family connections in the law. I joined Gray’s when I was at Oxford because my tutor advised it. Very generous scholarships at Gray’s he informed me. And he was right. You are looking at a Birkenhead Scholar.’
Cronshaw smiled. Neither man said anything for a few minutes as Markham-Moore savoured the wine, taking another gentle sip. He sat back and glanced at the oil painting over the fireplace. Was it an original? Cronshaw noticed his interest and read his thoughts.
‘It’s a copy.’ He paused. ‘I have the original back at my house in Oxfordshire. My late wife inherited it from her father. Not one of the major Venetian painters, but I like it. A student at Goldsmith’s painted this copy for me. She’s very talented, don’t you think?’
Markham-Moore nodded and took another sip of his wine.
‘I suppose it’s the Hamilton case that’s worrying you?’ he said, holding his glass up to the light and scrutinising the colour. ‘I’m no happier than you about the Attorney intervening. But I have kept the junior brief. I suppose that’s something.’
Cronshaw frowned. ‘We’ll have to put up with him – and there was no question of you giving up your brief, believe me. But I’m not at all happy how he and Fiona Morrison have rushed into using Hanlon. As I said to you the other day, I don’t like it. Why should Hanlon suddenly agree to co-operate? The proposed reduction in his sentence will mean he will still have about twelve years to do before he can apply for parole, and it doesn’t follow that he would get it even then.’
‘Perhaps he’s relying on the Home Secretary releasing him earlier? He has the power to do so. And his health is suspect.’
‘He could do, I suppose. But he’s unlikely to be in office by the time such a decision could realistically be made. There’d be a political risk – and there’s an election in the offing within the next twelve months.’ He adjusted his position on his chair. ‘No. I just can’t see someone like Hanlon putting his trust in the British Home Office. He must have another motive.’
‘Revenge? Putting Hamilton down would upset Doyle presumably?’
Cronshaw shook his head.
‘I don’t believe that’s it. As far as we know, he’s never had any dealings with Doyle. It was Grayling who had the grudge against Michael Doyle. Neither do I find his sudden concern for his son very convincing. He told Hood he hadn’t seen him for five years. Do we even know for sure he has a son? I’ve asked the chief inspector to check it out, but he’s got nowhere. A fourteen year-old called Sean who may or may not be somewhere in Ireland is not much to go on.’
‘Even if he has a serious kidney condition?’
‘Even then. And don’t you think it’s suspicious that he’s never given the mother’s surname? Hood did ask him, when he took his witness statement. He refused to say. He said it was none of his business after the Home office refused his request to be checked out as a kidney donor.’
‘Well, the trial starts in under three weeks. Whatever he’s up to, we’ll find out soon enough.’
‘I’m well aware of that. I still think it’s foolish to use him. My entirely reasonable objections have been dismissed out of hand by the Attorney, although I think Fiona was coming round to my point of view. Bright woman that. She’ll get to the top and deservingly so.’ Cronshaw chuckled. ‘I’m pleased in one sense that the Attorney is proposing to examine Hanlon in chief. I want nothing to do with it. If it all falls apart, the responsibility will not be mine.’
Cronshaw’s telephone rang. He excused himself and went into the hallway. He returned to the sitting room five minutes later wearing a concerned e
xpression.
‘That was Chief Inspector Hood. I gave him my telephone number so he could contact me directly rather than going through the CPS. He’s just been informed that Michael Doyle was seriously wounded in prison yesterday afternoon. He’s in hospital but the injury is not life threatening. Apparently, he was stabbed in the leg as he took a shower.’
‘That’s a bit of a coincidence, isn’t it? So close to the trial? Did he say who attacked him?’
‘No. He said he didn’t know who it was – but he’s probably covering for someone. He won’t want a repeat performance. That’s the reality of life in prison these days, I’m afraid.’
Markham-Moore appeared thoughtful.
‘Do you think this is down to Hanlon?
‘Possibly, I’m sure Hanlon has sufficient sway to manipulate someone into attacking Doyle and he certainly thinks it was Doyle who gave up Duffy to the police. He made no bones about that when Hood saw him.’
‘I always thought that was Grayling?’
‘I think that’s what we were supposed to believe. Grayling is safely dead. So there could be no repercussions if he were the source. Hanlon obviously thinks otherwise.’
‘What’s Inspector Hood’s take on all this?’
‘Like us, he doesn’t know what to think. He’s equally suspicious of Hanlon’s motives and he’s seen him twice. I also think he’s quite a good judge of character. I believe he’d come round to our point of view without too much difficulty.’
Markham-Moore took a much larger mouthful of his wine.
‘Lovely colour,’ he said, holding his fast diminishing glass up to the light again. ‘I could get used to this, although I don’t suppose I can afford to. Mine is mainly a legal-aid practice.’
Cronshaw smiled in acknowledgement but he hardly touched his own glass. Markham-Moore turned his attention back to Hamilton’s trial.
‘So, we need to consider another reason why Hanlon would want to give evidence? What advantage would it give him?’
‘You mean apart from getting a transfer to a different prison?
‘And it gets him out of Whitemoor for the day, I suppose?’
‘Not just for the day, Edward. The publicity this case will attract means he won’t be able to go back there at all. Far too risky. The plan will be to move him from court to the new prison near Mansfield. Not that he’ll be told where he’s going. All he’ll know is that he won’t be going back to Whitemoor. I suppose we should be able to complete his evidence in a day – even with the Attorney examining him in chief?’
‘Perhaps he thinks he can escape more easily from another prison? Whitemoor’s very high security isn’t it?’
Cronshaw stood up and shook his head. He bent down and turned down the gas fire.
‘It’s getting a trifle hot in here, don’t you think?’
Markham-Moore nodded.
‘To answer your question, Edward. I think it unlikely. Mansfield Shirebrook is state-of-the art. Brand new - high security, at least to the same standard as Whitemoor.’
‘It is finished is it? I read somewhere it was behind schedule, like most public works in this country.’
‘Not our problem. My interest is in establishing precisely what Hanlon is up to.’
‘Do you think he’s been offered something we haven’t been told about?’
‘You’ve probably put your finger on it. That’s exactly what’s worrying me. We can’t be party to anything like that. There would have to be full disclosure. I have asked the Attorney directly. He has assured me nothing extra has been offered. But I never like it when politics gets mixed up with a serious criminal prosecution.’
‘Perhaps he’s planning to escape while travelling to or from the Crown Court?’
‘That’s all in hand. It would take an army to free him. There will be armed officers in the convoy. He and Duffy will also attend on separate days. Duffy’s first in line, so the team will have had a practice run before Hanlon makes an appearance.’
‘But he has an army, in one sense hasn’t he – and a very ruthless one.’ He paused and took another sip of wine. ‘This really is very good!’
He looked at Cronshaw’s glass. It had still hardly been touched. Perhaps it brought back unhappy memories? Cronshaw picked up the bottle and refreshed Markham-Moore’s glass, studiously ignoring his own.
‘Thanks,’ said Markham-Moore.
Cronshaw smiled. ‘My pleasure.’ He became more serious. ‘It occurred to me when I read Hood’s report of his first meeting with Hanlon that his original wish had been to be taken to hospital so he could be checked out as a potential kidney donor. His diabetes has put a block on that. It’s not going to be permitted, ironically, because his condition means it would be too great a risk to his own health and his kidneys are hardly suited for a transplant to a young lad. As if that would have stopped him if he’d been given the option.’
Cronshaw continued his sombre expression as he returned to his chair.
‘I appreciate the irony – even if he doesn’t - but we know for sure he has diabetes. Quite serious too. I suppose you have seen a copy of his medical records? He’s on insulin now. That much, at least, is genuine.’
Markham-Moore leant forward and placed his glass on the coffee table.
‘It’s not unknown for prisoners to escape from hospital – much easier than getting out of Whitemoor – or Mansfield.’
‘I suspect security would have been strengthened had he been taken to hospital.’
‘So, you don’t think he’s agreed to give evidence in order to create an escape opportunity?’
Cronshaw shook his head.
‘Hood has taken appropriate precautions. There’s a uniformed inspector in charge of security. Inspector Bullock has even arranged for the police helicopter to shadow the convoy and extra safeguards are being put in hand at the Crown Court. But it’s certainly worth considering. I’m sure it’s occurred to Hood as a possibility. He’s certainly assured me that he’s checking on all Hanlon’s visitors and phone calls – just to be on the safe side.’
‘Has he had many visitors?’
‘Apart from his solicitor, no. His sister has been once – at least someone who claimed to be his sister. She had to prove her identity of course – and it has been confirmed he does have a sister – three of them to be precise.’
‘Can his solicitor be trusted?’
‘A good question. He has represented several highly dangerous criminals in the past, but nothing improper has ever been even suspected. And there have been no disciplinary issues. He’s in very good standing with The Law Society. Hood thinks if Hanlon has been passing information to his friends on the outside he’s more likely to have used a fellow prisoner’s visitor. Difficult to detect if he has.’
‘You mean he’s trusted another prisoner and passed something via a visitor to that prisoner? Now that really is clever. I have never heard of anything like that.’
‘Yes. It’s been done before, according to Hood. The governor is taking what precautions he can, but it’s an impossible task, especially as Hanlon does not seem to have any particular friends in Whitemoor. They’re all in single cells which means it’s not as easy to establish close relationships. Hanlon seems to spend all his free time reading and he doesn’t associate with anyone in particular. But there are men in there whom he would trust – and who will do his bidding. That’s another reason for moving him, irrespective of his giving evidence. It breaks up the chances of such communications getting out. The idea is that he will know no-one once he moves to Mansfield.’
Markham-Moore sighed and stretched his arms.
‘But he’s not been there very long, has he? Has he had time to fix up something like that? Perhaps he’s just decided to tell the truth? It does sometimes happen.’
Cronshaw shook his head.
‘Not Hanlon. He
’ll have his own agenda and it won’t be to assist the prosecution. You can be sure of it. That’s what I can’t seem to get the Attorney to understand. Problem is, we’re not going to know what he intends until he puts whatever it is into action.’
He looked at his watch.
‘Shall we go over? It’s a bit early, but I’ve agreed to speak to some students before dinner. Then there’s drinks in the small Pension room.’
Markham-Moore smiled. ‘So that’s why you’ve got me here. To help you with the students!’
‘It’ll only be for forty minutes. And I’ve arranged for you to sit at the Bencher’s table as my guest. That should be reward enough. But don’t expect the wine to be as good as this.’
Markham-Moore parted reluctantly with the remains of his glass and followed Cronshaw out of the flat.
Chapter Eleven
‘Have you found out what I need to know?’
‘No, not yet.’
‘But I have to know – and soon.’
‘My contact says he’s not sure. It’s one of three. They’re looking into three possibilities.’
‘Which are?’
‘Long Lartin, Full Sutton and the new prison near Mansfield.’
Hanlon shook his head. ‘It won’t be Long Lartin. Duffy’s in there. And I don’t fancy Full Sutton.’
‘They could always move him. He’s been in a few prisons already.’
‘They’ll not do that so close to the trial. What do you know about Mansfield?’
‘It’s brand new. Still not fully completed, but they’re moving people in already.
‘So Mansfield looks like the favourite.’
‘Yes. I’d put my money on that one. It also has the advantage of being quite near to Nottingham. But they’ll not tell you in advance. They never do.’
‘That makes sense, I suppose. They’ll think it makes it more secure if the journey between the court and the prison is as short as possible. Make sure this gets to my people on the outside. And quickly! And start dropping hints that I wouldn’t be safe at Full Sutton. I have enemies you know. And I can soon make some new ones if I have to. Find out who’s in there. But, Dermot, be discreet. And make it clear to that bastard officer if he gets this wrong his family in Belfast will suffer – and I mean suffer!’
A Private and Convenient Place Page 11