by Wilbur Smith
Henry Bannock snorted with disgust and deliberately turned his face away from the sorry spectacle.
‘Are you guilty of the charges that have been brought against you, Carl Bannock?’ John Martius demanded.
‘I am guilty only of succumbing to temptation and to female enticements, to the sin of Adam and the wiles of Eve.’ The phrase was so theatrical and contrived that some of those that listened to it winced.
‘No further questions of this witness, Your Honour.’ John Martius sat down.
Melody Strauss came at the accused, the lioness now charging from ambush. ‘Are you suggesting, Mr Bannock, that you were deliberately lured into committing rape by your two underage sisters?’
‘I am confused and deeply distressed. This has all come as a terrible shock to me. My memory fails me. I hear the accusations levelled against me and I think that there must be some truth in them, but I remember only very little of any of it, madam.’
‘How do you suggest your sperm found its way into your twelve-year-old sister’s vagina? Did she place it there herself, Mr Bannock, do you suppose?’
‘As God is my witness, I don’t know. I don’t remember any of this, but I am profoundly sorry for anything I might have done.’ He was blubbering again.
‘Do you suggest that your twelve-year-old sister inflicted the bruises and contusions on her own body? Perhaps she ripped open her private parts to shame you, do you think that possible?’
‘Maybe that is what happened, and if so I forgive her as I hope she will forgive me.’
‘Do you believe that those twelve law-abiding and upstanding citizens of the jury are naïve and gullible to the point of lunacy to fall for this claptrap? Is that what you believe, sir?’
‘No! I certainly do not believe that. It is only my own memory that I doubt.’
‘When did this strange bout of amnesia first strike you, sir? Was it when you realized that you were going to be made to pay for the hurt and shame you so readily inflicted on your young sisters?’
‘I don’t remember. I truly don’t remember.’
Melody threw up her hands in disgust. She was too shrewd to labour a point that she had taken so convincingly. She knew that the defence had paid a high price to allow their client to express his repentance in open court, and she was well pleased.
‘No further questions for the accused, Your Honour.’
‘Very well, ladies and gentlemen.’ Judge Chamberlain glanced up at the clock on the wall. ‘The time is a few minutes short of four o’clock. So I am going to adjourn this court for today and we will resume at ten o’clock tomorrow morning, to hear the prosecution’s summation.’
*
Melody Strauss’s summation lasted almost three hours. She laid the established facts before the jury in a cogent and logical fashion which demonstrated how she had earned her reputation. The jury and everybody else in the courtroom listened with total fascination. The manner in which she presented her case was flawless.
In contrast, John Martius made no attempt to address the evidence. He worked on the theory that his client had been the victim of enticement and entrapment by his two sisters. He put forward the theory that the motive of the girls was to bring Carl into disfavour with Henry Bannock and to replace him in their father’s affections. His rebuttal took only forty-eight minutes.
Judge Chamberlain summed up for the jury. He told them to consider carefully if Carl Bannock’s remorse for the crimes he was accused of was genuine or if it was merely rather poor acting, and if Bryoni Bannock’s horrendous injuries were self-inflicted.
‘Were those real tears of remorse that we saw in the eyes of the accused yesterday, or were they perhaps more saurian in nature?’ he asked them.
He sent the jury out directly after lunch to commence their deliberations.
Henry took Melody Strauss, Ronnie Bunter and Bryoni down the road to lunch at the local Burger King. Bryoni and Melody shared a double cheeseburger. Now that her ordeal was almost over Bryoni was once again chirpy as a songbird, but she held her father’s hand for reassurance, and once she whispered to him, ‘If Carl goes to prison, he is going to be real mad at me. Do you think he will come to get me when they let him out again?’
‘Carl is going away for a very long time. And we are going to make sure that he can never bother you again, my darling.’
By the time Henry called for the check it was after three o’clock. He was still paying it when a clerk of the court hurried into the restaurant.
‘The jury is back, Mr Bannock. They have reached a verdict. You had best hurry, sir.’
‘Good Lord! Well under three hours, that’s either very good or very bad.’ Ronnie Bunter gave his opinion.
‘Let’s get out of here.’ Henry grabbed Bryoni’s hand and hustled her down the street to the courthouse. The courtroom was full and the press section included reporters from as far afield as New York City and Anchorage, Alaska.
*
Hector Cross had left orders that he was not to be disturbed. He had diverted any incoming telephone calls to Agatha’s office in Abu Zara. He was so deeply engrossed in the typescript of ‘The Poisoned Seed’ that he had not been conscious of the passage of time until there was a discreet little double tap on the door of his study.
Hector jerked back from another time and a faraway place to the present. He had been so engrossed in Jo Stanley’s writing that for another few seconds he was slightly disorientated. He glanced at the window and saw by the outside light that it was already dusk. The day had sped away. He had not eaten since breakfast and had subsisted on cups of coffee that he brewed himself. He had barely taken the time to visit the toilet that adjoined his study.
He jumped up from the desk and crossed quickly to the door. He opened it, and she stood there smiling at him. She wore one of the white terry towel bathrobes and her legs and feet were bare. Her hair was damp and she had twisted it up on top of her head. She had bathed away the last traces of her make-up and her skin glowed. She looked young as a schoolgirl. She had obviously slept well for her eyes sparkled and the whites were clear. The irises were green, like tropic sunlight through seawater, sea green and serene.
‘Are we going to stand here staring at each other all night, or are you going to invite me into your lair?’
‘Forgive me. I had almost forgotten how good you look.’
‘You saw me just six or seven hours ago.’
‘Has it been that long?’ He was genuinely surprised and he checked his wristwatch. ‘You are right. I must learn not to argue with you.’ He took her hand and drew her into the room. ‘I do apologize for neglecting you. But it’s your own fault, I am sorry. You had me mesmerized with your literary genius. You had me hooked and hog-tied.’
‘You old flatterer, you!’ she said, but she smiled with genuine pleasure.
‘Sit down, please.’ He led her to the leather easy chair. She sat down and curled her legs under her. Then she tucked the skirts of the bathrobe around them when she saw him looking. They were lovely legs, he noted. ‘What have you been doing during the time I was so busy neglecting you?’
‘I had three or four hours of heavenly sleep. Then I availed myself of your gymnasium. I found a tracksuit in the gym cupboard that fitted me when I rolled up the sleeves and trouser legs. I changed all the settings on your machines, for which I apologize.’
He shook his head and laughed. ‘You are more than welcome.’
‘Then I had a sauna, and I shampooed my hair. I helped myself to all the Hermès and Chanel girlie goodies in your guest bathroom, and was pleased to note that none of them had been opened by previous visitors.’
‘You are the first.’
‘I am naïve enough to believe you. Perhaps that is because I want to.’
‘Cross my heart! But have you eaten?’
‘I wasn’t hungry. I was too busy exploring.’
‘Oh my God! You will die of starvation and I will never forgive myself. You have two options. Cynthia, my che
f, is the finest cook in London, and possibly the universe. The Ivy Club runs her a close second.’
‘We both have been in this house, albeit this lovely house of yours all day. Perhaps it would be better if we went out to dine,’ she said, but at the same time she dropped her eyes demurely from his. Already he knew her well enough to divine what she was actually hinting: that it was still too soon for her to spend the evening in intimate seclusion with him.
‘The Ivy it shall be. It’s pretty relaxed with its dress code, but if you would like to change I can run you past your hotel.’
‘Thank you, Hector. I would prefer that.’
‘I will throw on something suitable while you change back in your togs, and then I will wait for you in the car outside the hotel while you put on something fresh.’
He was impressed by the fact that she kept him waiting only twenty minutes, and that when she returned she was wearing something understated but elegant.
‘Perfect!’ he said as he opened the door of the Bentley for her. ‘You look smashing.’
‘That’s an adjective that sounds odd to an ear from west of the Atlantic, but I shall take it as a compliment.’
He took her on his arm through the entrance that pretended to be a flower shop and they rode up in the grand glass elevator. The girls at the reception fussed over Hector when they took the coats and one of them led them up in another elevator to the dining room.
‘Do you own the place?’ Jo whispered to him.
‘Wherever one goes in this naughty world, a decent tip performs miracles,’ he assured her.
‘I suppose it doesn’t hurt either if you look the way you do.’
‘I hope you are not allergic to champagne,’ he said as they settled at the table.
‘Try me!’ Jo invited.
When they had tasted and approved both the wine and the first course she asked the question which had been on the tip of her tongue since they had left The Cross Roads.
‘So tell me, where did you get to in my story?’ she asked.
‘I reached the part where Henry and Bryoni are waiting to hear the jury’s verdict on that horrible little shit, Carl Peter Bannock. Forgive my language but you have made me hate him.’
‘You are totally justified in that. I think that Carl Bannock is one of those people who is truly evil from the core and without any redeeming sides to his character.’
‘So where is he now, this monstrous creature?’
‘Read what I have written, Hector. Don’t try and jump ahead of the story. If you do it my way you will understand much more of the characters involved here, and there are many of them. However, I assure you that you haven’t come to the best part yet, or should I rather say the worst part.’
‘Okay, but indulge me with one more question that is eating holes in me. Did Hazel know any of this? If she did, she never told me about it.’
‘Hazel had not appeared on the scene yet. She was still learning to play tennis is South Africa.’
‘But she must have known about it when she married Henry?’
‘I doubt Henry ever told Hazel the details. Ronnie Bunter says Henry was deeply ashamed of the dreadful scandal of it all. Henry felt terrible guilt that he had not been able to protect his daughters. On the other hand, perhaps it is possible that Hazel did know but she never told you. It is such a tragic and sordid tangle that perhaps, like Henry, Hazel just wanted to pretend it had never happened.’
‘What has become of Bryoni Lee? That little one was a heroine. I would love to meet her, if that is at all possible.’
‘Contain yourself. I am not going to tell you. You will just have to read to the end of the story.’
‘I warn you, madam. Patience is not one of my numerous virtues. When I want something I want it now.’
‘There are some situations in which the ultimate pleasure is multiplied many times over by the anticipation,’ she told him. ‘And storytelling is only one of those.’ Her expression was enigmatic, and only remotely touched with prurience.
‘I am certain that advice is the best available.’ He scarcely could forbear to smile, but he managed to match her restraint. ‘How did you meet Ronnie Bunter?’ He changed the subject.
‘He was at law school with my father. I come from a long line of lawyers.’
She took his lead and they talked at large throughout the excellent meal, getting to know each other. Afterwards he took her on to a private nightclub named Annabel’s. She had never been there before but Hector was joyously received by the staff. When they danced they discovered that they moved very well together. Then the music changed and became soft and sentimental. It seemed perfectly natural that he held her closer and that she laid her head against his chest. He drove her back to her hotel and he escorted her as far as the entrance, where she told him, ‘Goodnight, Hector. I enjoyed the evening immensely. Will you call me in the morning, please? We still have so much to talk about.’ Then she offered him her cheek to kiss, and was gone in a swirl of skirts.
*
He woke at sunrise the next morning feeling rested and cheerful, with an expectation of something good about to happen to him. He lay for a few moments wondering at the source of this ebullient mood. Then it all came back to him with a rush. He chuckled gleefully and swung his legs out of the bed.
While he hurried through his ablutions he phoned down to the kitchen and told Stephen to lay out his breakfast on the desk in his study, rather than in the dining room. When he ran down the stairs showered and fully dressed, he met Stephen just leaving the study.
‘Morning, Stephen,’ he greeted him. ‘There is one other favour you can do for me.’ Stephen followed him back into the room and listened with an expression of disbelief as Hector gave him his instructions.
‘Are you certain that is what you want, Mr Cross?’ he asked when Hector had finished.
‘Tell me, Stephen, when last did I ask you to do something that I did not want you to do?’
‘I don’t think that has ever happened, sir.’
‘And it’s not happening now,’ Hector assured him.
‘I shall see to it at once, Mr Cross.’
‘I can always rely on you, Stephen.’
Hector settled himself at the desk and woke up his computer. When the screen was aglow, he picked up the telephone and dialled the number of Jo’s mobile, which she had given him the previous evening. While he waited for her to answer he speared a slice of ripe mango and slipped it into his mouth.
Jo answered on the fourth ring. ‘Good morning, Hector. How did you sleep?’
‘I fell into a deep dark hole and woke up half an hour ago, ready to slay dragons.’
‘There are enough of those out there,’ she agreed. ‘Slay one for me. I am still in bed with a cup of coffee.’
‘Lazy girl!’ he chided her. ‘Life is for living.’
‘All your fault, keeping me up into the small hours. But it was fun, wasn’t it? We should try that again sometime.’
‘Soon!’ he agreed. ‘Like this very evening, if not earlier.’
‘I have to see some people in the city this morning. I promised Ronnie Bunter. It’s nothing to do with “The Poisoned Seed”. It’s a totally different matter. However, I shall be free after lunch.’
‘Come. I shall be waiting for you.’
‘You get on with your reading. I warn you, there will be questions.’
‘And I’ll have a few for you.’
He hung up the receiver, and turned his full attention to the computer screen.
*
Henry Bannock, with Ronnie Bunter on one side of him and Bryoni on the other, had only just taken their seats in the courtroom when Judge Chamberlain came through the door from his chambers and the bailiff called the court to order.
The twelve members of the jury, led by the foreman, filed from their room and took their places in the jury box. None of them looked to where Carl Bannock was seated at the defence table.
‘Good sign!’ Ronnie whisper
ed to Henry. ‘They seldom look at a man they have condemned.’
‘Have the members of the jury considered their verdict?’ asked Judge Chamberlain.
‘We have, Your Honour,’ replied the foreman of the jury.
‘What is your verdict?’
‘On the charge of common rape we find the accused guilty as charged.
‘On the charge of statutory rape of a minor we find the accused guilty as charged.
‘On the charge of aggravated sexual assault we find the accused guilty as charged.
‘On the charge of common assault and grievous bodily harm we find the accused guilty as charged.
‘On the charge of a commission of incest we find the accused guilty as charged.
‘On the charge of corrupting the morals of a minor we find the accused guilty as charged.’
‘Six out of six,’ breathed Ronnie Bunter. ‘Full marks to Melody Strauss.’
Judge Chamberlain thanked and dismissed the members of the jury and then conferred with the counsels for the defence and the prosecution. Finally, he addressed the court. ‘We will adjourn until tomorrow at ten o’clock, when I will pass sentence on the prisoner.’
That evening Henry hosted a celebratory dinner party at Forest Drive for twenty close friends and relatives. Cookie served a baron of prime Texan beef, comprising two full tenderloins left uncut and joined at the backbone, rare and oozing juices.
Henry opened a dozen bottles of Château Lafite Rothschild 1955, to complement the beef.
Ronnie leaned across the table to bet Melody Strauss that Carl would only get ten years in the state pen. Joshua Chamberlain was a notorious liberal, Ronnie claimed. Melody put ten dollars on a sentence of at least fifteen years. However, they both agreed that the Château Lafite was the best wine they had ever tasted.
Bryoni could not make it through to the dessert course before her eyes closed and she slumped head down onto the table. Henry carried her up to her room and tucked her into bed. He sat on the edge of her bed and stroked her hair until she had fallen asleep for the second time before he went back to rejoin his dinner guests. As soon as he was gone Cookie smuggled a large bowl of chocolate ice cream up to Bryoni’s bedroom by the back stairs. Bryoni found sufficient reserves of strength to wake up and polish off the bowl.