Nothing Ventured(89)

“Are you ready to call the next witness, Ms. Warwick?” asked Lord Justice Arnott, sounding like a benevolent uncle.

“We call Professor Leonard Abrahams,” said Grace, surprised by how self-assured her voice sounded, because her legs weren’t experiencing the same confidence.

If the courtroom door hadn’t opened and closed, observers might have been forgiven for wondering if the next witness had actually entered the room. Abrahams blinked, looked around, and finally spotted the witness box in the far corner of the court. When he reached it, he was surprised to find that there was no chair for him to sit in, and that he would be expected to remain standing throughout his cross-examination. Typical of the British, he thought.

The clerk held up a card, showing no surprise that the witness was wearing a short white lab coat and an open-necked green shirt. Abrahams placed one hand on the Bible—well, at least the Old Testament—before reading out the words, “I swear by Almighty God that the evidence I shall give shall be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth,” before adding, “so help me God.”

He then peered around the courtroom, relieved to see that his little box of tricks had been set out on the floor between the witness box and the three judges, just as he’d requested.

His gaze finally settled on Grace, one of the brightest young women he’d come across in many years of teaching bright young women. He’d liked her from the moment they’d met at Heathrow, but it was only later that he’d come to respect her grasp of detail and her patient pursuit of the facts as well as her passionate belief in justice. He wondered if Sir Julian realized just how talented his daughter was.

“Professor Abrahams,” said Grace, “I would like to begin by asking you about your background, in order that their lordships may appreciate the particular skills and expertise you bring to this case.” He’d become so used to Grace calling him Len, that he was taken by surprise when she addressed him as professor. “What is your nationality, professor?”

“I’m an American, although I was born in Poland. I emigrated to the United States at the age of seventeen, when I won a scholarship to study physics at Columbia University in New York. I completed my doctorate at Brown, when I wrote my thesis on the use of ESDA in criminal cases.”

“ESDA?” repeated Grace, for the benefit of everyone else in the court, other than the two of them.

“Electrostatic Detection Apparatus.”

“And you have since written two major works on the subject, and recently been awarded the National Medal of Science.”

“That is correct.”

“In addition to which, you—”

“I think you have established, Ms. Warwick,” interjected Lord Justice Arnott, “that the professor is preeminent in his field. Perhaps it’s time for you to show us what relevance his expertise has in this particular case. I only hope,” he added, turning to face the witness, “that my colleagues and I will be able to follow you, professor.”

“Don’t worry, Your Honor,” said Abrahams. “I’ll treat all three of you as if you were first-year students.”

Sir Julian held his breath, while Grace stared anxiously at the judges, waiting for a stern rebuke, but none was forthcoming. Their lordships just smiled, when Lord Justice Arnott said, “That’s most considerate of you, professor, and I hope you’ll forgive me if I find it necessary to ask you the occasional question.”

“Fire away at any time, Your Honor. And in answer to your first question, about the relevance of ESDA to this particular case, I have to admit, I wouldn’t have considered taking on this assignment had it not given me an opportunity to visit my mother.”

“Your mother lives in England?” asked Lord Justice Arnott.

“No, Your Honor, in Warsaw. But England’s on the way.”

“I’ve never thought of England as being on the way to anywhere,” said the judge, “but please continue, professor.”

“To do so, Your Honor, I must first explain why ESDA is now considered by the American Bar Association to be an important weapon in its armory. That wasn’t always the case. The change took place quite recently, when a congressman whom I intensely dislike told the court during his trial for fraud that he had read every page of a sensitive military procurement document, and suspected that some pages had been added at a later date. I was able to prove he had lied to the court, which resulted in him not only having to resign from office, but also ending up in jail for a long time.”

“But in this case, as I understand it,” said Lord Justice Arnott, “you will be attempting to prove the exact opposite, namely that a sheet of paper was removed, not added.”

“That is correct, Your Honor. And if you’ll allow me to examine the evidence in your presence, I believe I will also be able to establish whether it was Arthur Rainsford or DI Stern who lied under oath. Because they can’t both have been telling the truth.” The professor now had everyone in the courtroom’s close attention.

“Beyond reasonable doubt?” asked Arnott, raising an eyebrow.

“Scientists don’t deal in doubt, Your Honor. It’s either fact or fiction.”

This silenced his lordship.

“But in order to prove my case, Your Honor, I will need your permission to leave the witness box and conduct an experiment.”