Mightier Than the Sword (The Clifton Chronicles 5)

“I do indeed remember your words, Lady Virginia, but I wonder if you noticed that just before proceedings opened this morning, a policeman entered this court and handed me a letter?”

Sir Edward edged forward in his seat, ready to pounce.

“Would it surprise you to know it was addressed to me, and that it was from your dear friend, Major Fisher?”

If Mr. Trelford had wanted to go on speaking, his words would have been drowned out by a cacophony of noise that came from all corners of the courtroom. Only the judge and the jury remained impassive. He waited for complete silence before he continued.

“Lady Virginia, would you like me to read out to the court the last words your dear friend Major Fisher wrote, moments before he died?”

Sir Edward leaped up. “My lady, I have not seen this letter in the bundle of evidence, and therefore have no idea if it’s admissible or even authentic.”

“The blood stain on the envelope would suggest its authenticity, my lady,” said Trelford, waving the envelope in front of the jury.

“I haven’t seen the letter either, Sir Edward,” said the judge, “so it certainly isn’t admissible as evidence until I say so.”

Trelford was quite happy for them to go on discussing the legal niceties as to whether the le

tter was admissible or not, well aware that he had made his point without having to produce any evidence.

Giles studied the sphinx-like expression on Trelford’s face and couldn’t be sure if Emma’s counsel even wanted the letter to be read out in court, but following what had started out as a triumphant morning for Lady Virginia, he had once again sown a seed of doubt in the jury’s minds. Everyone in the court’s eyes were on him.

Mr. Trelford tucked the envelope back into an inside pocket of his jacket. He smiled up at the judge, and said, “No more questions, my lady.”

44

WHEN THE CELL DOOR swung open on Tuesday morning, two guards marched in to find Harry and Babakov sitting on the floor in opposite corners of the cell, not speaking.

They grabbed Babakov and, as they dragged him out of the cell, Harry bowed his head as if he wanted nothing to do with the man. A moment later two more guards appeared, walking at a more leisurely pace. Although they took Harry firmly by the arms, they didn’t jostle, push, or drag him out of the cell, which made him wonder if it was just possible that Babakov’s plan had worked. However, the guards didn’t let go of Harry as they led him up the stairs, along the corridor, and into the courtroom, as if they feared he might try to make a run for it. But where would he run, and just how far did they imagine he would get?

Harry had insisted that Babakov sleep on the one thin mattress in their cramped cell, but the Russian had refused, explaining that he couldn’t afford to get used to such luxury when he would be returning to a stone floor in Siberia on Tuesday night. Sleeping on the straw that was liberally scattered over the floor was quite enough luxury for one weekend. The truth was, neither of them had slept for any length of time, which brought back memories for Harry of his days behind enemy lines. By the time the guards came to collect them on the Tuesday morning, they were both mentally and physically exhausted, having used every available hour for the challenge they had set themselves.

When the two guards accompanied Harry into the court, he was surprised to find the chief prosecutor and the jury already in their places. He hardly had time to catch his breath before the door at the back of the room opened and the three judges entered and returned to their seats on the raised dais.

Once again, the tribunal chairman didn’t even glance in Harry’s direction, but immediately turned to the jury. She opened a file in front of her and began what Harry assumed was her summing up. She only spoke for a few minutes, rarely raising her head from the text. Harry could only wonder who had written it, and when.

“Comrades, you have heard all the evidence, and have had more than enough time to consider your verdict. Can there be any doubt that the prisoner is guilty of the crimes he has been charged with, and that he deserves to be sentenced to a long term of imprisonment? The jury will be interested to learn that this will not be the prisoner’s first experience of jail. He has already served a sentence for murder in the United States, but do not let that influence you, because it is you, and you alone, who must decide if he is guilty.”

Harry had to admire the fact that the other two judges were able to keep a straight face while she continued to read out the prepared statement.

“Comrades, first let me ask you if you need to retire to consider your verdict?”

A man seated at the right-hand end of the front row, as befits a bit-part player, stood up and, sticking to his script, said, “No, comrade chairman.”

“Have you reached a verdict?”

“Yes, we have, comrade chairman.”

“And is that verdict unanimous?”

“Yes, it is, comrade chairman.”

“And what is your verdict?”

Each of the twelve members of the jury picked up a piece of paper from their chair, and held it high in the air, revealing the word GUILTY.

Harry wanted to point out that there was only one piece of paper on each chair but, as Anatoly had advised, he looked suitably chastened when the comrade chairman turned to face him for the first time.

“The jury,” she declared, “has unanimously found you guilty of a premeditated crime against the state, and I, therefore, have no hesitation in sentencing you to twelve years’ imprisonment in a labor camp, where you can once again share a cell with your criminal friend Babakov.” She closed her file and paused for some considerable time before adding, “However, as Colonel Marinkin recommended, I will offer you one last chance to sign a confession admitting your crime and the terrible mistake you have made. Should you do so, your sentence will be suspended, and you will be extradited and never allowed to visit the Soviet Union or any of its satellites again. Should you ever attempt to do so, your sentence will automatically be reinstated.” After a short pause she said, “Are you willing to sign a confession?”