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‘Can Mack bring him into court to testify?’

‘Certainly. But that doesn’t mean he’s going to be able to get answers to all his questions.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Any communication between patient and doctor is privileged in the State of New York and, as such, cannot be elicited except under certain conditions. For example, if the patient should consent to the doctor’s testifying. Which she certainly is not about to do.’

Hoover and his attorney were seated at the defence table when Janice and Bill entered the courtroom at one twenty-six. Typically, Brice Mack was engaged in an animated one-sided conversation while his client doodled furiously on his pad, engrossed in his own mysterious labours and betraying no sign that he was the least interested or even heard what his lawyer was saying.

The spectators’ section of the courtroom was less than a quarter filled, and only one reporter, the woman, occupied the long row reserved for the press. The man from UP had not bothered to return. On the basis of all that had been heard and what meagre coverage it had received in the press, the trial held little promise of being anything more than another routine, predictable, open-and-shut case. Thus far the proceedings had augured no slight hint of the drama to come; hence the house was definitely no sellout.

A few seconds before one thirty Scott Velie and two assistants ambled up to the prosecution’s table, where they remained standing and chatting quietly. In another moment what few people there were in the courtroom rose to their feet as Judge Harmon T. Langley swished past the flag of the State of New York and nestled his black-robed bulk behind the altar of justice. His acolyte with shining sidearm and badge accompanied his progress with all the rigidity of a papal guardsman.

Up until the very second it took for the bench to settle in, gather its thoughts together, bring the court to session, and ask the crucial question of the defence, Brice Mack had serious doubts about its answer. Only two were possible. Either, ‘Yes, Your Honour, the defence is ready to proceed with its opening remarks.’ Or, ‘No, Your Honour, the defence wishes to postpone its opening remarks until it commences the presentation of its case.’

The former answer would bring about a quick confrontation on the reincarnation issue and create a sudden-death situation; however, the jury would have been made privy to the defence’s contention and would hear the testimony of each witness for the prosecution in the light of that knowledge. An important consideration, since it would tend to soften and compromise the prosecution’s case in the jury’s mind.

The only benefit in the latter answer was to buy more time. It would postpone the reincarnation issue for at least a week since the state’s roster of witnesses was considerable - twelve according to Velie’s office - and allow them to continue their investigation of Ivy Templeton’s nightmares. Until now Brennigan had been singularly lacking in success in tracking down any leads or information. Dr Kaplan, who certainly was aware they existed, remained close-mouthed. The friends of the Templetons, the Federicos, were totally unapproachable. Still, the nightmares were a fact. They existed. They had come to plague the child twice in her life. Both times when Hoover was present in the city. His presence, Hoover contended, triggered these deeply disturbing experiences that never varied in content or degree.

As Elliot Hoover had described the nightmares to him, and if his accuracy could be trusted, they constituted the one direct link between the Templetons’ child, Ivy, and Hoover’s daughter, Audrey Rose - or, at least, his daughter’s soul.

Brice Mack felt a light film of sweat appear on his face. It always happened at these times, when his most serious concentration was directed at the basic issue in the case and he found himself giving sober credence to such concepts, actually employing detectives to match a living child to the soul of a dead child, that his face became moist and clammy and the ground began to shift under his feet. It was at such moments of weakness, when the mind-boggling enormity and effrontery of such a defence suddenly struck like a whiplash, that the placid, sincere, and assured face of Elliot Hoover would come to his rescue. After all, he would tell his quaking heart, a lawyer’s duty is not to question the validity of his client’s beliefs or to render a judgement on his competency to entertain such beliefs. A lawyer’s duty is only to represent the legal interests of his client and see to it that he receives a fair and just hearing under the law. But his quaking heart knew better.

Born and bred in a tradition of reality in a tough Bronx ghetto, harsh and uncompromising, put through school by the sweat and toil of a working mother, gaining his Ivy League degree via the indignity of a change of name (their quota on Jews, he had heard recently, had gone up one-half per cent in the last five years), Brice Mack, ne Bruce Marmorstein, knew the difference between what is and what ain’t. Or, as Walt Whitman more fancily put it, ‘He could resist the temptation to see what a thing ought to be rather than what it is.’

And he also knew a meshuganeh when he saw one.

*

‘Yes, Your Honour.’ Brice Mack rose and addressed the bench. ‘We are ready to proceed with our opening remarks.’

Janice sensed a palpable stiffening in Bill, a girding of inner resources for the blow about to come, as Brice Mack slowly pressed forward towards the jury box, smiling easily, his hand extended confidently.

‘Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,’ he began in a somewhat stilted and formal manner, ‘what I am about to tell you will take some time and will require your absolute attention, for what you are about to hear is unique in the annals of Anglo-Saxon jurisprudence. By the time this trial is over and this honourable court is adjourned; by the time the final words of the prosecution and the defence have been uttered and written into the court record; by the time you have returned to your seats in the jury box with a verdict which I am sure will be fair, just, and well considered; by that time, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, you and this court and the world at large will know that what took place in this courtroom — Part Seven of the Criminal Courts Building - will for ever be memorialized in the history books and records that assiduously follow the progress of man-kind’s most important steps on earth.’ He stopped, carefully sustaining a dramatic pause before continuing. ‘What you will hear may shock you. May elicit an initial response of disbelief. May even bring smiles of derision to your faces. But I promise you, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, that before this trial is over, your shock will be replaced by understanding, your disbelief by total acceptance, and your derisive smiles will become smiles of pure joy and hope, for not only will the many proofs and testimonies we have amassed convince you to liberate a human being and free him from the fearsome punishment of imprisonment, these very same proofs and testimonies will serve to liberate each and every one of you sitting before me from the most fearsome and dreaded punishment known to man, the legacy we all inherit at birth and which hovers, shroudlike, above us through every day and night of our lives: the sure and certain knowledge pf our own impermanence and our own personal oblivion.’

Brice Mack paused here to let the weight of his message sink in before continuing.

‘Before going on, however, if you will bear with me in a small digression, I should like to tell you, since Mr Velie failed to do so, just what precisely the law in this state regards as first degree kidnapping…’

Scott Velie had come to his feet halfway through Brice Mack’s statement and was waiting patiently with arms folded for the proper moment to object, which was now.

‘Objection, Your Honour! Defence counsel knows that only the bench has the authority to instruct the jury on the law and that it is improper for either counsel to assume such an authority; besides which, this is not a proper statement to be made in an opening address anyway…’

‘Your Honour,’ Brice Mack retaliated with equal force, ‘the defence contends that the charge of first degree kidnapping is inept, inappropriate, and improper as it applies to the defendant; that, if any charge had pertinence in this case, and the defence is confident of its ability to disprove even that, it would be the lesser charge of custodial interference in the second degree…’

It was coming. Janice’s hand groped for Bill’s, found it tense and clammy. The woman reporter seemed suddenly revitalized, her attention riveted on the duelling lawyers. Even Judge Langley was leaning forward in an attitude of renewed interest.

‘Custodial interference, Mr Mack,’ the judge instructed, ‘as I’m sure you know, implies the existence of a direct blood relationship between the litigants in an action. Can you offer such proofs?’

‘Yes, Your Honour. Through the development of testimony based on the knowledge and experience of expert and learned witnesses, the defence will clearly demonstrate that the most conclusive and strongest possible familial relationship does indeed exist between the defendant, Elliot Hoover, and the child known as Ivy Templeton—’

‘Objection, Your Honour,’ Velie cut in. ‘This is totally improper in an opening address. Again, defence counsel is attempting to discuss the law; if he felt the charges were inappropriate, there were motions he could have made before the trial commenced to have the charges dismissed. Further, the state can offer substantial proofs and documents to refute any earthly claim of a direct blood relationship between the victim and her abductor.’

‘Well,’ said Judge Langley somewhat drily, ‘it would seem that both of you are aware of a good deal more than I.’

‘Your Honour!’ Both lawyers spoke at once, but Velie’s booming voice overpowered and outdistanced his opponent’s.

‘Your Honour, lest this hearing become polluted with wild and unfounded assertions, may I beg the court’s indulgence tor a conference in chambers out of earshot of the jury?’

Judge Langley, his curiosity piqued, was quick to agree. ‘Very well, court will stand in recess. Jury will be ushered back to the jury room until summoned.’

Janice heard a sibilant sigh slowly escape from Bill as the pent-up tension within him was gradually released. He turned to Janice and smiled nervously.

‘Velie’s round, I’d say,’ he murmured.

Janice smiled back encouragingly. His hand clasped hers tightly, as would a child’s about to enter a haunted house.

*

‘Why wasn’t I advised of this earlier?’ Judge Langley said, his irritation showing. ‘Not a word about reincarnation in our pre-trial conference. Why wasn’t this matter brought to my attention?’

‘The only matters that are important in this case, Your Honour, are the hard, earthbound facts,’ Velie said in a sulky, aggrieved tone of voice. ‘It doesn’t matter whether Hoover believes in reincarnation or believes that the moon is made of green cheese. The fact is he committed a crime by taking someone else’s legitimate offspring, removed her from her home, secreted her in his own home, and then interfered with the performance of a government function. No matter what his reasons were for doing this act, he is liable to arrest and prosecution under the law.’

Judge Langley fixed a cold stare on Brice Mack.

‘All right, Mr Mack, let’s have it.’

‘Very simply, Your Honour,’ Brice Mack said, holding his voice to a discreet and reverent level, ‘we believe that the question of reincarnation is relevant and material to this case.’

‘On what grounds?’

‘On the grounds that it provides the defendant with a perfectly valid defence.’

Langley’s voice fell like a hammerblow. ‘You mean, just because your client happens to believe this poppycock, you are prepared to turn my courtroom into a three-ring circus?’

‘Your Honour,’ Brice Mack quickly interjected, ‘please, sir, it is certainly not our intention to in any way compromise the dignity of your court. However, my client stands accused of one of the gravest charges on the books, and I’m sure you will allow that he does have the constitutional right to defend himself against such a charge.’

‘Your client is entitled to a reasonable and proper defence under the law, Mr Mack. Nothing more and nothing less. Do I make myself clear?’

‘Yes, sir, perfectly clear. And we believe that a defence based on reincarnation is entirely reasonable and proper under the circumstances.’

‘Have you done any research?’ growled Langley. ‘Can you cite sources, give me any legal precedents for such a defence?’

‘No, Your Honour,’ said Mack in his most disarming little-boy voice. ‘We have found no legal precedents to support this defence.’

Judge Langley appeared stunned. ‘And you expect me to instruct the jury that if they find your client took the child in the belief she was his reincarnated daughter, they must find him not guilty?’

He gazed at Scott Velie with a twinkle of a smile and shook his head. Velie, sunken deeply in his chair, grinned back. Brice Mack waited until their exchange of looks was completed before continuing.

‘It is not my client’s belief in reincarnation that’s important, Your Honour. What’s important is whether reincarnation is a fact. I believe, in order for my client to be found guilty, the jury must make a finding that there is no such thing as reincarnation and that it is impossible for Ivy Templeton to be Elliot Hoover’s child. We have experts who will testify to the contrary, and regardless of Your Honour’s predilection or predisposition to believe or not to believe this, we believe the court owes the defence the opportunity of presenting this evidence. We believe it is material and relevant and competent, and we should be permitted to convince the jury that this is so; because if we are able to do this, then the kidnapping charge is not a viable charge.’

During the soft-spoken, slowly articulated statement, Judge Langley felt himself retreat into the soft burnished leather of his ancient chair as a sick, oppressive weight bore down on his chest. He had had a prescience when he awakened that morning, after having passed a restless and mainly sleepless night, that it would be one of those days. Looking across at the unlined, eagerly bright, and rapacious face of the young attorney, Judge Langley suddenly felt very, very old.