A Prisoner of Birth

The first surprise came when the diaries were delivered to Alex's chambers the following morning. The second was the courier. Albert Crann could not have been more cooperative, answering all the questions Alex put to him, only becoming guarded when he was asked why his boss wouldn't agree to appear before the Law Lords-in fact, wouldn't even consider an off-the-record meeting with Mr. Redmayne in chambers. Alex assumed it must have something to do with Moncrieff wanting to avoid any confrontation with the police until he had completed his probation order. But Alex wasn't willing to give up that easily. Over lunch he had convinced Beth that if she could get Moncrieff to change his mind and agree to give evidence before the Law Lords, it might be the deciding factor in having Danny's name cleared. "No pressure," Beth had said with a smile, but now she was on her own and beginning to feel that pressure more with every step she took.

Alex had showed her a photograph of Moncrieff and warned her that when she first saw him she might think just for a moment that she was looking at Danny. But she must concentrate, and not allow herself to be distracted.

Alex had selected the day, even the hour, that the meeting should take place: a Sunday afternoon around four o'clock. He felt that Nick would be more relaxed at that time and possibly vulnerable to a distressed damsel appearing on his doorstep unannounced.

When Beth left the main road and walked into The Boltons, her pace became even slower. It was only the thought of clearing Danny's name that kept her going. She walked around the semicircular garden with its church in the center until she reached number 12. Before she opened the gate she rehearsed the words she and Alex had agreed on. "My name is Beth Wilson, and I apologize for disturbing you on a Sunday afternoon, but I think you shared a cell with Danny Cartwright, who was..."

***

By the time Danny had read through the third essay recommended by Professor Mori, he was beginning to feel a little more confident about facing his mentor. He turned to a piece he'd written over a year ago on J. K. Galbraith's theories on a low-tax economy producing... when the doorbell rang. He cursed. Big Al had gone to watch West Ham play Sheffield United. Danny had wanted to join him, but they both agreed that he couldn't take the risk. Would it be possible for him to visit Upton Park next season? He turned his attention back to Galbraith, in the hope that whoever it was would go away, and then the bell rang a second time.

He reluctantly stood up and pushed back his chair. Who would it be this time? A Jehovah's Witness or a double-glazing salesman? Whichever it turned out to be, he already had his first sentence prepared for whoever it had decided to interrupt his Sunday afternoon. He jogged downstairs and walked quickly along the corridor, hoping that he could get rid of them before his concentration broke. The bell rang a third time.

He pulled open the door.

"My name is Beth Wilson, and I apologize for disturbing you on a Sunday..."

Danny stared at the woman he loved. He had thought about this moment every day for the past two years, and what he would say to her. He stood there, speechless.

Beth turned white, and began to shake. "It can't be," she said.

"It is, my darling," Danny replied as he took her in his arms.

A man sitting in a car on the opposite side of the road continued to take photographs.

***

"Mr. Moncrieff?"

"Who is this?"

"My name is Spencer Craig. I'm a barrister, and I have a proposition to put to you."

"And what might that be, Mr. Craig?"

"If I were able to restore your fortune, your rightful fortune, what would that be worth to you?"

"Name your price."

"Twenty-five percent."

"That sounds a bit steep."

"To give you back your estate in Scotland, to kick out the present occupant of your house in The Boltons, to restore the full amount paid for your grandfather's stamp collection, not to mention ownership of a luxury penthouse in London, which I suspect you don't even know about, and to reclaim your bank accounts in Geneva and London? No, I don't think that's particularly steep, Mr. Moncrieff. In fact, it's quite reasonable when the alternative is a hundred percent of nothing."

"But how could this be possible?"

"Once you've signed a contract, Mr. Moncrieff, your father's fortune will be restored to you."

"And there will be no fees or hidden charges?" asked Hugo suspiciously.

"No fees or hidden charges," promised Craig. "In fact, I'll throw in a little bonus, which I suspect will even please Mrs. Moncrieff."

"And what's that?"

"You sign my contract, and by this time next week she'll be Lady Moncrieff."

CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE

"DID YOU GET a photo of his leg?" asked Craig.

"Not yet," replied Payne.

"Let me know the moment you do."

"Hold on," said Payne. "He's coming out of the house."

"With his driver?" asked Craig.

"No, with the woman who went inside yesterday afternoon."

"Describe her."

"Late twenties, five foot eight, slim, brown hair, great legs. They're both getting into the back of the car."

"Stay with them," said Craig, "and keep me briefed on where they go." He put the phone down, turned on his computer and pulled up a photo of Beth Wilson, not surprised that she fitted the description. However, he was surprised that Cartwright was willing to take such a risk. Did he now believe that he was invincible?

Once Payne had taken a photograph of Cartwright's left leg, Craig would make an appointment to see Detective Sergeant Fuller. He would then stand aside and let the policeman take all the credit for capturing an escaped murderer and his accomplice.

***

Big Al dropped Danny outside the entrance to the university. After Beth had given him a kiss, he jumped out of the car and ran up the steps and into the building.

All his plans had been blown away with one kiss, followed by a night with no sleep. When the sun rose the following morning, Danny knew that he could no longer live a life that didn't include Beth, even if it meant leaving the country and having to live abroad.

***

Craig slipped out of the court while the jury were considering their verdict. He stood on the steps of the Old Bailey and phoned Payne on his mobile.

"Where did they end up?" he asked.

"Cartwright was dropped off at London University. He's doing a Business Studies degree there."

"But Moncrieff already has a degree in English."

"True, but don't forget that when Cartwright was at Belmarsh he took A levels in maths and business studies."

"Another small mistake that he's assumed no one would pick up," said Craig. "So where did the driver take the girl after he'd dropped Cartwright off?"

"They headed for the East End and-"

" Twenty-seven Bacon Road, Bow," said Craig.

"How did you know?"

"It's the home of Beth Wilson, Cartwright's girlfriend-she was with him that night in the alley, don't you remember?"

"How could I forget," snapped Payne.

"Did you manage to get a photograph of her?" asked Craig, ignoring the little outburst.