Give The Devil His Due (42 page)

       The time had arrived, and here we were. What was it Peachy had said? ‘To the victor the spoils’, or something like that. I couldn’t remember exactly. I was nervous. Peter looked smart and business-like in his suit and he also looked serious, not at all flash. This was good. Peachy looked a bit nerdy, but then Peachy always seemed to look a bit nerdy.

       Representing Peter was a barrister by the name of Richard Coleman. Although the words would be coming out of Coleman’s mouth, we had been assured by Peach (the instructing ‘solicitor’) that he would lead him every step of the way. The guy didn’t strike me as being the most charismatic of speakers, but Peach reckoned that was OK. When dealing directly with a learned judge that had probably seen every trick in the book, as opposed to a jury, you didn’t want anyone too slick and cocky. The judge would see through all the showboating.

       I had my doubts. I’d always been of the belief that big-fee barristers usually get the big fee not just because of what they say, but how they say it. I was told not to worry; that everything would be all right.

       De Villiers, in contrast to Peter, looked moneyed as did his legal team. His main man was a guy called Julius Grey, a real Eton-type. I saw him arrive at court. Everything about him looked as though it had been carefully thought out, from his perfectly manicured hands to his cuff links; a different pair every day – just like his handmade shoes. The bloke was a tailor’s dummy. His two juniors weren’t far behind on the style-front either. Where they bought their clothes was a mystery, but I knew that I couldn’t afford to shop there. At least once proceedings got underway they’d all be adhering to normal barrister-wear.

       There was one other person sitting in the De Villiers’ camp, a man called Morris Beaufort. He was the appointed representative of the Moncourt trustees. I couldn’t really understand what he was doing there, apart from observing. What could he offer in the way of evidence to counter Peter’s claim? Nothing – as far as I could see. If Peter were to win, then maybe it was a case of the trustees wanting to hear the bad news immediately. His presence wouldn’t make any difference though, because the document predated the De Villiers-Moncourt partnership and therein lay the crux of the matter.

       Vaughan was enjoying himself, observing the cut and thrust of the arguments, the whole spectacle. Whenever I watched American courtroom dramas, they always seemed to lack that little bit of theatrical excitement the English courts had; the pomposity of it all. I even felt like asking the judge to put his hanging cap on, point to De Villiers and say the words ‘Take him down’, but if I’d made this request I’m sure the result would have been me being removed and quite possibly taken down! I’d just have to be content with my own over-active imagination.

       Throughout the hearing, there was surprise after surprise. Part of DM’s defence was to deny the existence of any relationship between John Steadman and Edward De Villiers. Coleman (guided by Peach) was unable to prove that the two men did in fact know each other, and had met on several occasions. This was worrying.

       But the biggest shock of all for us was when De Villiers’ defence team revealed that Solomon Levin and Jacob Rothman, who were hanged for John Steadman’s murder, had an accomplice. He was a jeweller by the name of Abraham Kozen, who, having received the dead man’s watch, was the third member of the gang to be hanged.

       Peach was asked by opposing counsel if this Abraham Kozen was in any way related to him. When he calmly announced he was in fact an ancestor, I was a little pissed off to put it mildly. I could tell by Peter’s reaction that Peach had already briefed him. Nevertheless, it would have been nice if Peach could have included this not insignificant piece of information in the bundles he’d given each of us.

       As soon as Peach admitted the connection, De Villiers’ team had a field day with him, using such phrases as ‘misdirected and deranged act of vengeance’ and ‘a fantasist of gargantuan proportions’. At one point Trev was really starting to get riled and De Villiers’ QC picked up on it, as I suppose all good briefs should. He asked him if he needed a sabbatical to help him regain his thoughts. The way he said it made Peach sound like he was suffering some sort of dementia. Peach was apoplectic. To say things were not going well would be slightly understating matters.

***

Expert witnesses had been called from both sides; they had given their opinions based on complex scientific processes relating to document authentication. One analysis had indicated this, another that. They were prepared to vouch for the age of the note, but nobody seemed to really put their reputation on the line and say that the document was absolutely genuine. Some said the signature was very likely to be that of Edward De Villiers, some said that it was just as likely not. The only thing that seemed certain to me was that it was all very uncertain. Maybe the thought of a
Hitler Diaries
-revisited scenario was what led all these guys to be fence-sitters big-time.

       As the case drew to a close, and the judge was summing up before announcing his decision, I began to have another of my
horrible
feelings. Watching De Villiers; he was so smug, so full of it; just like that day in his office when he’d have been quite content to watch Brian the Thug break my limbs and probably do the same to Phil and Peach. I began to wonder: What if Mart hadn’t done the business? Would one of us have ended up a corpse? It didn’t bear thinking about.

       During one of the breaks, Vaughan and Phil had expressed their doubts to me about the case’s outcome. I asked Peach what would happen if Peter lost. All he would say was that he wasn’t going to lose. If Peter won the case, costs would be awarded. But if not, there was no way that we could all stand by and watch Peach pay De Villiers’ costs. God knows what they were going to be. Without doubt, the total would be well into six figures, taking into account all the personnel involved and research that must have been conducted in order for De Villiers’ legal eagles with their hours billed at extortionate rates to put forward his best defence.

       As Judge Urquhart made more and more negative comments directed towards Peter, Richard and Peach, I started to feel nauseous.
Now was the winter of our discontent
, and I was certain that unlike the temperature provided by the courtroom heating system, things for us were just about to get that little bit colder.

       The judge had his glasses on. ‘I have listened with great interest to all the evidence presented to the court. Never in all my years on the bench have I been called to take a decision on a dispute that has evidence spanning such a timeframe. I have to say that on balance, both sides have had more than an adequate opportunity to state their case.’

       He was now looking at Peter. ‘I have here the promissory note which you have put forward to the court as the foundation of your action; and it is indeed a document of great interest. However, I am sure you realise that in circumstances such as these, should there be any doubt whatsoever, the court must find in favour of the defendant. Unfortunately Mr Steadman ...’

       I looked over at De Villiers. As he turned to whisper something into Julius Grey’s ear, he caught my glance and winked at me as if to say ‘Gotcha’. I tried to picture him as I’d seen him a month earlier – a dishevelled, blubbering mess, sitting in his own excrement on the office floor. I was hoping it would in some way give me comfort but it didn’t. How I wished I could turn the clock back and let Mart really go to town and level his office. The guy was a wanker.

       The judge continued. ‘I have to say on this occasion, I do ...’ He had stopped mid-sentence. ‘Excuse me for a moment …’ He gesticulated for the clerk to approach the bench. The clerk moved forward and there was muttering between the two of them.

       I looked at De Villiers. He was still grinning at Grey and saying something, probably about the costs coming their way – courtesy of us!

       Without warning, the clerk walked over to where De Villiers and Grey were still congratulating themselves, picked up the nearly full jug of water that they'd been using to top up their glasses, and started to walk back towards Judge Urquhart. De Villiers stopped grinning and in response to such an affront barked at the clerk, ‘I'm drinking that. Put it back, now.’

       The judge expressed his displeasure. ‘Mr De Villiers! That jug is the property of the court and the clerk shall do no such thing.’ That was telling him.

       De Villiers was starting to get angry. ‘What is this?'

       ‘Mr Grey, please advise your client of his position within this court.’

       De Villiers was really put out. ‘I think you sir, should talk to the organ-grinder, not the monkey.’

       Oh dear! Even I (with my sheltered upbringing) knew that you don’t speak to a judge like that, especially one that's about to give a ruling that could go against you. Julius Grey didn’t look too happy about being referred to as a monkey either, come to that.

       ‘Mr Grey! This is the last time I shall say this. If your client speaks again I shall have him removed and held in contempt.’ Julius Grey put his hand on De Villiers’ wrist stopping De Villiers from waving angrily in the Judge’s direction. It was then that I noticed something.

       I scribbled a note and passed it to Phil whispering, ‘Give this to Peach.’

       Peach was seated in front of Phil, but at a stretch, Phil could get the note to him. Phil looked at the note first and looked back at me with raised eyebrows as if to say ‘What the fuck's that mean?’.

       I hissed, ‘Just give it to him, quick.’

       Peach took it, glanced at it, looked over in De Villiers’ direction then wrote something on a piece of paper, which he pushed in front of Coleman. Coleman read what Peach had written and immediately rose to his feet. ‘My Lord, I submit that there is vital new evidence which has only just come to light.’

       ‘Mr Coleman, I hope for your sake you are not just wasting the court’s time. Are you in possession of this vital new evidence? Or are you seeking an adjournment?’

       ‘No My Lord, I am not seeking an adjournment. The evidence I wish the court to examine is here at this very moment.’

       ‘And what new evidence is this, may I ask?’

       ‘Your Lordship might have noticed that the defendant has a ring on the little finger of his left hand.
This
is the vital new evidence that has come to light.’

       ‘Mr Grey,’ the judge looked at De Villiers’ barrister, ‘the ring your client is wearing on his left hand, would he be willing to offer it to the court so that it may be examined?’

       ‘I fail to see the relevance My Lord.’

       ‘Your failings are not the court's concern Mr Grey. The ring on your client’s left hand, however, is.’

       Grey consulted with De Villiers. ‘My Lord, my client insists that the ring has been on his finger for many years and cannot be removed.’

       I thought
You lying barristard
. Suddenly, I had one of my engaging-mouth-before-brain moments. I don't know what made me do it; the words just came out, and loudly. ‘Well, he wasn't wearing it yesterday!’

       The judge was looking in my direction. ‘Who said that?’

       I stood up and bowed my head. ‘It was me My Lord. I don’t know what came over me. I can’t apologise enough.’

       ‘Give me one good reason why I shouldn't have
you
removed and held in contempt?’

       He stared at me. I wasn't sure whether or not he really did want me to give him a reason, but as he was staring, once again my mouth opened up – and out it came.

       ‘My Lord, he's interrupted you three times’ (I pointed to De Villiers) ‘and I've only done it the once. So, by letting him stay, and throwing me out, you'd kind of, well, be breaking a precedent that you've already set, if you know what I mean, sort of, legally speaking.’

       ‘Young man, from your rhetoric, am I to deduce that you harbour aspirations to become a student of the law?

       ‘Er, no sir.’

       ‘That is indeed a relief to us all.’ There were a few chuckles from the gallery.

       ‘As you are, how shall I put it, blissfully ignorant of what is deemed acceptable etiquette within the confines of these four walls, please let me enlighten you. This is a court of law and the earlier warning given to the defendant applies to you and everyone else present.

       ‘I am not a vindictive man, and so you may remain, but be under no misapprehension, any interjection from you will be dealt with swiftly and severely. I suggest that in future you hold your tongue. Is that clear?’

       ‘Yes My Lord.’

       ‘Very well, we shall proceed.’

       That was telling me, but at least he hadn’t chucked me out.

       ‘Mr Grey, please inform your client that although we do not feel the need to employ security cameras inside the court, there are however, several situated in and around the building, and they are recording at all times. May I also ask you to remind your client that perjury carries a minimum tariff of ...’

       ‘My Lord, my client has just informed me that the heating conditions within the courtroom have facilitated a loosening of his ring.’

       I put my head down and my hand over my mouth, trying to stop myself laughing. Phil and Vaughan were having similar problems. This wasn’t a court; it was a
Carry-On
film! A ‘loosening’ of De Villiers’ ring? There was a bit of
déjà vu
going on here.

       The judge signalled to the clerk to bring him the ring. The clerk walked over to De Villiers, who begrudgingly parted with the jewellery. Moments later the ring was in the possession of Judge Urquhart.

       The judge studied the ring carefully and then the document, putting his magnifying glass on his desk. The court was silent. The judge beckoned the clerk forward and handed him the document and ring, giving his instructions.