Nothing Ventured(88)
The snapper peeled away from the rest of the group and listened to her request.
“Only too delighted to help,” he said as Grace slipped him a five-pound note. “That won’t be necessary, miss,” he added, handing back the money. “Arthur Rainsford should never have gone to jail in the first place.”
30
The following morning Sir Julian arrived at the Royal Courts of Justice an hour before the trial was due to recommence. A clerk accompanied him and Grace down to the cells in the basement, so they could consult with their client.
“You demolished Stern,” said Arthur, shaking Sir Julian warmly by the hand. “If you’d represented me at my original trial, the verdict might well have gone the other way.”
“It’s kind of you to say so, Arthur, but while I may have landed the occasional blow, unfortunately I didn’t knock Stern out. And the fact remains, we’re in front of three high court judges, not a jury. Their lordships’ decision will be based not on reasonable doubt but on far more demanding criteria, before they can consider overturning the jury’s decision and declaring a miscarriage of justice. A great deal now depends on Professor Abrahams’s testimony.”
“I’m not altogether sure how the three venerable Solomons will react to the professor,” said Grace.
“Nor am I,” admitted Sir Julian. “But he’s our best hope.”
“You’ve still got Detective Sergeant Clarkson to cross-examine,” Arthur reminded him.
“Stern’s sidekick will only parrot what his master has already said. You can be sure he and Stern spent last night in a pub analyzing every one of my questions.” Sir Julian checked his watch. “We’d better get going. Can’t afford to keep their lordships waiting.”
* * *
“You ran rings around my wife yesterday, BW,” said Faulkner, over breakfast at the Savoy.
“Thank you, Miles. But when Palmer cross-examines you, you’ll still have to explain to the jury where the Rembrandt has been for the past seven years, how you got hold of it in the first place, and why you switched the labels on the crates. You’d better have some pretty convincing answers to all those questions, and several more besides, because Palmer will come at you all guns blazing.”
“I’ll be ready for him. And I’ve decided to make that sacrifice you recommended.”
“Very prudent. But keep that particular card up your sleeve for the time being, and leave me to decide when you should play it.”
“Understood, BW. So what happens next?”
“The Crown will put up Commander Hawksby, and he’ll undoubtedly back up your wife’s story. For him, she’s the lesser of two evils.”
“Then you’ll have to demolish him.”
“I don’t intend to cross-examine him.”
“Why not?” demanded Faulkner, as a waiter poured them more coffee.
“Hawksby’s an old pro, and juries trust him, so we need the commander out of harm’s way as quickly as possible.”
“But that doesn’t apply to the choirboy,” said Faulkner.
“Agreed, but the Crown won’t be letting him anywhere near the witness box. It would be too much of a risk.”
“Then why don’t we call him?”
“Also too much of a risk. Warwick’s an unknown quantity, and barristers always like to know the answer before they ask a question. That way, they can’t be taken by surprise. So frankly, Miles, I need you to be at your sparkling best, because the most important thing in the jury’s minds when they’re considering their verdict will be your credibility.”
“No pressure,” said Miles.
“You’ve been in tight spots before.”
“Never this tight.”
“That’s why you have to be on the top of your game.”
“And if I’m not?”
Booth Watson drained his coffee before replying, “You won’t be having bacon and eggs at the Savoy again for some considerable time.”
THE CROWN V. RAINSFORD
“My Lords, in the tradition of the English criminal bar, a leader may call upon his junior to conduct one of the examinations in chief during a trial. With Your Lordships’ permission, I will invite my junior to examine the next witness.”
“Permission granted, Sir Julian,” responded Lord Justice Arnott after a brief consultation with his colleagues. He then gave Grace the warmest smile he’d managed throughout the trial.
Grace rose unsteadily to her feet, aware that not only was everyone staring at her, but Arthur Rainsford’s fate now rested in her hands. All those years of study and training, not to mention the hours spent at the feet of her father as he interpreted the law and explained court procedure to her. Now he was passing on the baton, expecting her to run the final lap.
Sir Julian sat back, hoping it wasn’t too obvious that he was just as nervous as his daughter. It didn’t help Grace that her mother was seated between Beth and Joanna Rainsford at the back of the court, both leaning forward and looking like football fans eagerly awaiting the first goal.
Grace placed her file on the little stand her father had given her on the day she joined him in chambers. She opened it, looked down at the first page and her mind went blank.