A Game of Proof (16 page)

Anyway Bob’s at home and the police are the professionals, not us.

Concentrate.
The main thing is to destroy the identification evidence. Without that there’s no case. Accept the jury’s sympathy for Sharon as a victim but insist it wasn’t Gary who did it. Get them to accept the possibility that the brutal rapist is still out there, wandering free. Looking for another victim.

A teenage girl perhaps.

Shut up
. Focus. Concentrate. The police found no hood, no watch, no witnesses apart from Keith Somers. He’s damaging, but his evidence is circumstantial - how exactly did I plan to deal with him ...?

Emily, dragged by the hair into some grotty bedroom, forced to her knees, punched in the face, her legs dragged apart ...

God no! Stop it!

‘Hi there, sunshine!’

‘What?’ She looked up, took her hands away from her eyes.

‘Are you OK?’ It was Savendra, his cheerful face suddenly registering concern.

‘Not really, Savvy. No.’

‘What is it? Family row?’

‘Worse than that. Family’s vanished. Emily’s gone walkabout.’

‘What
are
you talking about?’ He sat down in front of the desk. Sarah explained, briefly, trying to make light of it. ‘Of course she’ll come back, it’s just a mega teenage tantrum aimed at causing us all maximum embarrassment, that’s all ...’

‘The police are searching, and you’re still here?’

‘Of course I’m here. I’ve got a case to defend, haven’t I? Last day, speeches, summing up, verdict. You remember verdicts?’

‘Yes, but ... you could get it adjourned. These are exceptional circumstances beyond your control, surely. The judge - who is it, Gray - he’ll understand.’

‘Will he? Perhaps - but
what
will he understand? That I can’t be a mother and a barrister at the same time? That the courts have to make special allowances for women? That everything gets slowed up because of my daughter’s stupid tantrum? No, Savvy ...’

‘He won’t see it like that ...’

‘He will, Savvy, he will, because he’s an unreconstructed chauvinist who thinks women should be at home doing the dishes and not in court at all. And even if
he
doesn’t think it others will. It’ll go the rounds, you know it will. “That Sarah Newby, she knows her stuff but she’s not reliable. Family problems, likely to take a day off to look after the kids. Better off with a man.” That’s what they’ll say.’

Savendra shook his head. ‘There’s world of difference between looking
after
the kids and looking
for
them, Sarah. The courts aren’t completely full of sharks and jackals, you know.’

‘Aren’t they, Savvy? Which courts do you work in?’ A wry, bitter smile dispelled the tears that had been threatening.

‘Well ...’ Savendra saw the point. All barristers needed good cases to build up their reputation. Of all those who took law degrees less than 10% took bar exams; of those called to the bar only 50% found a place in chambers; of those who found a place in chambers only a tiny fraction made a living in their first years. If a colleague dropped a case for whatever reason, there was a feeding frenzy of others to snap it up.

‘Anyway, Bob’s there. They don’t sack headmasters for taking a day off. It’s called role reversal, Savvy, it’s the new idea for twenty-first century woman. And man.’

‘Well.’ He reached across to pat her gently on the arm. ‘Where do you think she is?’

‘
If I knew that don’t you think I’d be there now?
’ Sarah’s eyes would have shrivelled him to a burnt crisp on the seat of his chair, if they hadn’t been suddenly softened by tears. ‘Anyway Emily’s just trying to get at me, Savvy. To criticise my success. I won’t let her.’

The contrasting sentiments were so harsh and shocking Savendra could find no response. He decided to step back from this emotional quicksand onto safer ground.

‘So do you think you’ll get the rapist off?’

‘Rapist?’
Emily dragged into the back of a van, driven hundreds of miles to the south of England, sealed in a cellar to die of abuse and starvation ...
‘Oh, you mean Harker?’

‘Of course. Who else?’

‘Do my best.’ She indicated the notes on her desk. ‘He claims he’s innocent, Savvy.’

‘So you have to defend him.’

‘That’s my job.’

‘Mine too.’

The two barristers smiled at each other, knowing how seldom it was that they really believed in the innocence of the clients they defended. Savendra got to his feet. ‘I wish you luck, then. But if you want me to take over ...’

‘No chance.’

He shut the door softly behind him, leaving her alone with her notes.

After Sarah’s dramatic departure Terry looked at Bob Newby with concern. The man seemed unable to keep still. He paced up and down the room anxiously..

‘What now, Mr - Inspector Bates, isn’t it?’

‘Bateson, sir. Well, I think you should stay here, sir, in case your daughter rings or simply turns up ...’ 

‘You think she’ll turn up, just like that?’

‘Quite often that’s exactly what happens, sir. And it’s important that someone’s here to meet her or she might just go off again.’

‘I’m sure you’re right. But I’d feel better out there doing something, not just sitting still. That’s why Sarah should be here.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Terry agreed, but it was not his place to do anything about it.

‘
Bitch.’

The word was spoken softly, so Terry pretended not to hear. He turned to sergeant Hendry. ‘Tom, have you got a constable to stay with Mr Newby? In case ...’

‘I’m not a child, you know!’ Bob snapped. ‘You get your men out searching - I may be upset but I do see the sense in what you’re saying.’

‘All right, sir, thanks. But Tom’ll call in regularly, keep you in the picture. Here’s my mobile number, if you need it. Now, er, can I have the address of that son of yours?’

Bob took a deep breath, trying to regain self control. As he wrote the address he muttered: ‘He’s my stepson, really. Sarah had him before we met. He’s a brickie - works here there and everywhere.’

‘All right, sir, I’ll find out. And we’ll check that phone box too.’

As Terry turned to go, Bob clutched his arm. ‘You’ve run this sort of search before, haven’t you? What are the chances?’

Terry saw fear in the man’s eyes, a barely suppressed panic that could quickly break through. ‘Well, in two cases out of three the child just turns up of its own accord. So the chances are good, if you look at it that way. But we’ll do our best to find her even if she doesn’t.’

Outside he said: ‘Keep an eye on him, Tom. He’s likely to crack any time.’

And as he left he wondered: would I go to pieces like that if Jessica or Esther vanished? Perhaps - who knows.

Would I let my wife treat me as Sarah treated him?

No way.

No wife anyhow.

In the cramped cell below the court, Gary Harker scowled at his lawyers.

‘I’ve thought about it and I’m going in the box.’

‘Why?’ Sarah stood by the door, wig in hand, Lucy beside her.

‘Well if I don’t, the judge is going to slag me off, in’t he? You said so yourself. I’m not going down just because of some crap advice my brief gave me.’

‘
As
your brief,’ Sarah said firmly, ‘I’m giving you the best advice possible. If you don’t give evidence the judge is entitled to draw the jury’s attention to your silence, Mr Harker; but if you go into the box, with your temper, the prosecution are going to hang you out to dry.’

‘What’s that bloody mean when it’s at home?’

‘Julian Lloyd-Davies is going to needle you about all the lies you’ve told, until you swear and curse and the jury despise you. He’s an expert - he’ll run rings round you.’

‘I
have
given evidence before, you know! You think I’m fucking stupid or what?’

‘I think you have a violent temper which you find hard to control.’

‘Well, that’s a load of crap, that is, thanks a lot! Me own bloody brief trying to bollock me before the trial! Fucking pair of slags!’

Sarah drew a deep breath. ‘I’m trying to present your case in the best light possible, Mr Harker. If you want to dismiss me and defend yourself you’re quite at liberty to do so.’

Gary considered it. ‘No, that’s not what I want, you know that.’

‘Right then. Well my advice is that if you go into that box and start swearing at people like you are now, you’ll destroy yourself more effectively than the judge ever could. So I suggest you exercise your right to keep silent, and let the judge say what he likes.’

‘And what if the jury listens to him, eh? What am I looking at?’

‘For a violent rape like this? Fifteen years, maybe. Minimum of eight.’

‘Fifteen fucking years! But it only lasted ten minutes, for fuck’s sake!’

Gary stood, his huge hands clenching and unclenching by his side. Sarah said nothing. This is what I came to work for, she thought. Bob’s right. I should be at home looking for Emily. Leave this tosser to rot. She saw the great vein swelling in his thick neck six inches from her face, as he shouted. ‘Fifteen years, and you don’t want me to speak? It’s
me
that’s going down, not you, you know, Mrs pretty barrister! For a ten minute shag.’

‘Are you admitting your guilt, Mr Harker? If you do that I can no longer represent you.’ And you can rot in hell, she thought. Where you belong. She turned to go, but the man grabbed her shoulder.

‘No I am not admitting no fucking guilt, not to you nor any other twat with a pile of horseshit on her head. But I’m not staying silent, neither. I’m going in that box to tell the truth, so you’d best sharpen up your fancy brain too, because if you don’t, I’ll be looking for you after those fifteen years and it won’t be no ten minutes’ revenge I have in mind, neither.’

She put her hand on his to push it away, but realised she could no more move it than pull a brick from the wall. As her fingers scrabbled on his she met his eyes and to her horror he smiled. Then he let go.

I’m losing control of this, she thought. Get out now. But she had to preserve some dignity. ‘Very well,’ she said shakily. ‘If you insist on giving evidence, that’s your right. I’ll see you in court.’

Outside in the corridor she saw that Lucy, too, was shaking. The two women leaned against opposite walls and gazed at each other. ‘Not your day really, is it?’ Lucy said.

‘No.’ Sarah pressed her trembling hands against the wall behind her. ‘What am I doing here, for God’s sake?’

Lucy fumbled in her bag for cigarettes. ‘It’s not your fault. You told the wanker what to do. His future’s in his own hands now.’

‘Yes. And with a temper like his he’ll probably yank it right off.’

For a moment, in relief after the shock of Gary’s rage, this remark struck the two women as hopelessly, hysterically funny. A warder, passing on the stairs, glanced at them curiously. They were still giggling together when they came up into the main entrance of the court and bumped into Sharon Gilbert.

Oh God, Sarah thought. How much worse can this day get?

I’m not going to try very hard, Sarah thought. There’s no point. Even if he hasn’t actually admitted it the bastard’s guilty and deserves to go down. Anyway I’m too tired. She stood up.

‘My lord, I call Gary Harker.’

Gary took the oath in a strong, loud voice, stumbling slightly over the words as he read them.

‘Mr Harker, you have heard all the evidence brought by the prosecution. Did you rape Sharon Gilbert?’

‘No.’

‘Did you go to her house on the night of Saturday 14th October last year?’

‘No.’

‘Very well. Let me take you through the events of that night. Did you meet Ms Gilbert earlier that evening, at a party at the Station Hotel?’

‘I did, yes.’

‘Why did you go to that party?’

‘Why not? I knew some lads there.’

‘Did you expect to meet Ms Gilbert?’

‘No. I hadn’t seen her for ... six months, mebbe.’

‘What were your feelings when you met her?’

‘Well, I weren’t bothered really. I mean, I bought her a drink, asked her to dance, like. That were it, really.’ To Sarah’s surprise Gary seemed quite calm, almost respectable in the way he spoke. The jury were listening intently, no sign of disgust on their faces as yet.

‘Did she seem pleased to see you?’

‘Not really. She’s a stroppy cow at times.’

Here we go, Sarah thought. Sink yourself if you want to. I don’t care.

‘Did you have an argument?’

‘I asked her for me watch back. She said she hadn’t got it.’

‘And how did you react to that?’

‘I said she were, er ...’ Gary paused, glanced at the jury, seemed to take a grip on himself.  ‘I said it weren’t true. I reckon she’d sold it and she owed me t’brass.’

‘Were your voices raised when you had this argument?’

‘A bit. You had to speak up to be heard.’

‘All right. Did you threaten her in this argument, say you might come to her house and take the watch back, perhaps?’

‘No.’

‘Did you go to her house to get the watch back?’

‘No.’

‘So when did you last see this watch?’

‘When she slung me out of her home, last year.’

The bastard’s really trying, she thought. So far so good. For him, anyway. But now the silly lies start. The fake alibi.

‘Tell the jury in your own words, what happened when you left the Station Hotel that night.’

‘Well, I met a lad called Sean and we went to the Dog and Whistle. Cruising.’

‘Cruising?’

‘Yeah. Looking for lasses, like. Girls.’

‘Did you find any?’

‘Yeah. Two.’

‘What happened then?’

‘Well, they were tarts, like. Prostitutes. So we shagged ‘em.’

‘Did you pay them?’

‘I paid mine. Tenner. Too bloody much.’

‘What happened then?’

‘I went home to bed.’

‘Did Sean go with you?’

‘No. We split up when we met t’lasses. I didn’t see him again.’

‘What about the girl? Did she come home with you?’

‘No.’

‘What was her name?’

‘Can’t remember, sorry.’

‘You’ve never seen her before or since?’