by Abi Silver
‘Well that depends.’
‘On what?’
‘On what he says when I question him.’
Constance felt her face beginning to flush, but she remained calm.
‘Give me two minutes to get Mr Salisbury a glass of water and then we’ll be ready to start,’ she said. And then, as an afterthought, she added, ‘even superheroes need to drink.’
Dawson chewed his thumb as she exited the room. Then he clicked his knuckles. Then he opened the file up and continued reading.
36
JUDITH BURTON was returning to her apartment with a shopping bag in each hand. She had completed her sixty lengths at the nearby pool and had sourced all the ingredients she needed for a ‘superfood’ salad lunch.
Greg was at work, so she was looking forward to spending as much time as she wanted, chopping and whisking and simmering, and sporting her disposable caterer’s gloves for hostile vegetables like beetroot and red onion, without fear of censure. And when her culinary creation was finally ready, she could sit down with all the newspapers spread across the table and a glass of her chosen white wine (Greg would never drink during the day and she suspected he disapproved of this habit of hers, although he never said), some ciabatta and an olive oil/balsamic dip and peck away, making the meal last the whole afternoon.
As she deposited her parcels on the floor of the kitchen, she thought back to the dinner she had made for Constance. What had Greg commented afterwards? Interesting young woman, that was it. The comment didn’t bother Judith in itself, but she was intrigued that he should focus on those two attributes of Constance; something unusually alluring about her and her youth.
She, Judith, generally forgot how young and relatively inexperienced Constance was when they worked together, although Constance did defer to her on some matters and, clearly, Constance was the master of lots of technological applications Judith didn’t even know existed. And while Judith had certainly been drawn in at first by Constance’s online profile, once they had met she had ceased to find her particularly fascinating. Constance was bright, there was no doubt about it, and extremely hard-working and they made a great team, but she was patently down to earth and conventional in many ways.
Judith pulled her phone out of her bag and switched it on for the first time that day. As she extracted various knives, peelers and a chopping board from her cupboard, she sat down to check her messages. The first was from Constance.
Have taken the car case. Assume you’re ‘in’. Pick you up around 3pm for meeting with our client?
This was followed by two missed calls, also from Constance, presumably to check she’d received the message. Judith checked the time. It was only twelve. She could still manage a more hastily prepared salad than she had anticipated and a read of some background on the case before pick-up. She should probably, therefore, abandon the alcoholic accompaniment.
Yes please, she replied. I’ll be waiting. And ‘here we go again,’ she muttered to herself.
37
‘WHAT DO WE KNOW about James Salisbury’s background?’ Judith asked, as they sat in Constance’s car, parked on High Firs Lane in Hadley Wood, a few doors away from his house.
It was a wide street, lined either side by large detached houses, most of them set back from the road and accessed via intimidating gates, surrounded by high walls or occasionally softened by neat hedges. On their journey, they had circled a large, green park, replete with swings and two tennis courts. And at the corner of the street they had passed a small preparatory school; Judith didn’t catch its name.
‘He’s fifty-nine, founded SEDA in 2005. He was fifty-fifty shareholder with a childhood friend of his called Imogen Walsh. She died two years into the venture on a skiing holiday. James carried on alone. It’s his personal car that was involved in the accident.’
‘And how is the company doing?’
‘Published accounts show low but steady profit for the parent company…but they are waiting for the explosion in the UK, when the government Bill goes through, any day now.’
‘Because what? Their cars go on general release then?’
‘Yes. There are about a hundred SEDAs on the roads here now, either on specific trials or a few owned by staff, like the one in the accident. Word is, SEDA is far advanced in terms of the sophistication of the software, because they’ve thrown more money at the project than their competitors and focused on this product only.’
‘You sound like a SEDA advert.’
‘I’ve been asking around. The SEDA is rated. Their main line is called the Go!.’
‘The Go!.’
‘Yes. It’s a catchy name; there’s lots of marketing about how it’s for people with busy lives, you know, “always on the Go,” that kind of thing. It looks sleek, it’s pitched at medium income people and it’s roomy inside. And it’s good on fuel consumption.’
‘It’s electric?’
‘Yes. Apparently, it was SEDA who finally persuaded the supermarkets to start installing charging points, which made the whole electric car thing viable. James himself went to visit all the big chains and asked them “if they wanted to help make the world a better place”.’
‘And they did, of course. Is he married?’
‘Yes, to Martine, born Martine Braithwaite. Former Miss South Yorkshire 1998. Age thirty-nine, housewife, likes shopping.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘She was in a local magazine recently talking about it. “Shoes for every occasion,” it was called. I’ll dig it out for you.’
‘Thank you. I might learn something useful. Children?’
‘Two. Joshua aged nineteen and Zachary aged twelve. I think his wife must have chosen the names.’
‘Careful. That sounded decidedly like the snobbery I am trying hard to curb.’
‘It’s not snobbery. I’ve met him, remember. Just drawing conclusions, like you do.’
‘Anything else noteworthy? I assume no criminal record, no previous bad press?’
‘Nothing on Google but I need to look deeper. He says he doesn’t know what happened.’
‘How do you want to play things?’
‘With a straight bat. After all, he is our client, albeit an unusually wealthy one.’
‘He suggested coming here, which is surprising.’
‘It is, although it’s understandable that he wants to play the whole thing down at work. I’ll just try to get some background on him and the cars. Feel free to ask anything yourself. Let’s drive in. It’s number 26, so a few more houses along.’
The Salisburys’ house was set back from the road along a gravel driveway and protected from the world’s intruders by high, black metal gates. It was an imposing Georgian-style edifice, surrounded by a neat lawn and colourful garden and overlooking fields beyond. According to Zoopla, when it had changed hands last in 2010, it had set the Salisburys back a cool £4 million but it was worth more like £5 million now.
‘Ooh! Smile you’re on Candid Camera,’ Judith mumbled, as a camera, mounted on a stone planter, came into view and swivelled around, following their movements as they travelled along the driveway. ‘Just an old joke, don’t worry.’ Constance frowned her confusion.
‘Mr Salisbury. How nice to meet you.’ Judith’s hand was extended to coincide precisely with his opening the door and he took it hesitantly, also grasping Constance’s hand in a similar diffident manner.
‘I don’t have long,’ he said. ‘Something has come up and I have to leave for a meeting shortly.’
James directed them into an opulent lounge and waved them to sit down on a white leather sofa. He remained standing by the mantelpiece. Judith took out her notebook. Constance pulled out her tablet.
‘Well, if we don’t have long, let’s dive in straightaway, shall we?’ Judith began. ‘I’m Judith Burton. If your case goes ahead, I will be y
our barrister in court and I’ll be working with Constance to do all I can to defend you.’
James drew a sharp intake of breath. ‘I’m hoping it won’t come to that, as I told Constance. So tragic. That family, almost totally wiped out in one blow.’
‘Yes, absolutely terrible,’ Judith replied, ‘but, forgive me if I don’t stand on ceremony, especially if time is short today. We want to know about the car you were driving. What model was it?’
‘A 2016 SEDA,’ James stammered.
‘It’s one of a number of SEDA cars registered to you at this address?’
‘Yes.’
‘You’re the CEO?’
‘Yes. And the founder. SEDA was established with the aim of bringing autonomous vehicles to the masses. And, I’m pleased to say, after a lot of hard work, we are nearing our goal.’
‘That must be very gratifying for you. Your wife has one too, a SEDA?’
‘My wife has a new model, and my eldest son the same.’
‘And they’re all registered for use on the road in the UK?’
‘Absolutely. That’s one of the first things the police asked me, but, yes, they are all registered. You can see it as soon as you check the number plates with the DVLA.’
‘Do you have a garage?’
‘We converted it. But I usually park the car on the drive, close to the house.’
‘And at work?’
‘I have a designated space in an outdoor car park.’
‘And the car was in full working order, no problems, nothing damaged, fully serviced?’
‘Yes.’
‘What level of autonomy does the car have?’
‘How familiar are you with these vehicles?’ James asked.
‘I’ve read about them, that you can have different levels of control, some driverless cars have a full manual alternative, others don’t even have a steering wheel. Which was yours?’
James squinted up towards the sun pouring in through the sash windows.
‘Forgive me. I was just thinking about that poor family again. Would the police really put them through a trial, on top of everything else?’
‘I can’t say. And perhaps I was leaping ahead. What’s important, for now, is to establish the basic facts. The level of autonomy of your car?’
‘My SEDA is an early model, a pioneer in many ways, voice-activated software as well as all the laser, radar and full camera package. The 2016s have a manual override.’
‘A manual override?’
‘Yes. When you get in the car, VERA, the computer, talks to you, asks where you want to go, and there is an option to drive the car in manual mode for the entire journey, or all journeys, if you wish.’
‘And why might someone want to use manual mode in a driverless car?’
‘We prefer to call them autonomous or at the very least automated, not driverless. There are a few reasons. I’m not sure if either of you is a car enthusiast.’ He allowed his eyes to travel through the window to Constance’s modest vehicle before continuing.
‘If you were, then, let’s say you were embarking on a journey up in Yorkshire in some scenic countryside, up hill and down dale, as they say, you might very well prefer to drive the car yourself, to feel at one with your vehicle.’
At that moment, the gates opened and a white van drove in and continued along the driveway. As it parked next to Constance’s car, they read ‘McQueen’s Security Systems’ emblazoned across its side panel.
‘Security?’ Judith asked.
‘There’s a lot of burglary in the area,’ James explained, ‘and I’m probably not the most popular man in town at the moment, either. I thought it prudent to have everything checked over. Excuse me a moment. I’ll be right back.’
James exited the room and they watched him, through the window, instructing the young security man, who listened intently, before James tapped him companionably on the shoulder and said his goodbyes.
‘I was asking about why a person with an autonomous vehicle might wish to drive themselves and you talked about aficionados. Any other reason?’ Judith resumed her questions, when James returned to the room.
‘At the other end of the scale. If you wanted to break the law, speed, travel the wrong way down a one-way street, that kind of thing. You would have to re-take control of the car to do so. The car’s programmed to drive according to the law, including any speed restrictions.’
‘So if anyone gets into your car, if he does not actively choose the manual mode, the car will drive itself.’
‘Yes.’
James handed Judith a business card. ‘Toby Barnes is my marketing assistant. The number on the card is direct to him. Make an appointment with him and he’ll show you around our factory and answer all your questions. I’ll tell him to expect to hear from you. Then you’ll understand things better.’
Judith gave the card a cursory glance then tucked it away in her pocket.
‘If the car is operating autonomously, what should happen if a person steps out into the road suddenly?’ she said.
‘It should take evasive action.’
‘Like what?’
‘Brake and swerve away from the obstacle.’
‘Why did that not happen in this case, do you think?’
‘This is where I am struggling,’ James replied. ‘I know I have no memory of the crash, but I still can’t believe it happened. Thinking about it now, I wonder if the car was in manual mode, that I’d switched over and then I did something wrong. I can’t see any other explanation for the accident.’
A wave of tension rippled across James’ face.
‘I see.’ Judith watched him closely. ‘Constance has told me that, understandably, you want first access to all the data from your car,’ she said. ‘The police have rejected that request, so we now need to make a court application, on your behalf, to persuade the judge you should get to see it first. Presumably you have other means of transport for now.’
‘Yes. The police can keep my car as long as they feel necessary, of course. It’s the data we need. And I am sure that it will explain this awful mix-up.’
‘So we’ll get on with the application and let you know.’
‘Thank you. I would very much appreciate it if you could do it quickly, please.’
‘You said it’s impossible for your car to have crashed in autonomous mode,’ Constance had her own questions to ask, ‘but you accept in your marketing material that your vehicles can still have accidents. Can you explain how that might happen?’
‘I prefer to talk about incidents or crashes, collisions,’ James said. ‘Those words are more neutral, they don’t imply fault and, you’re right, they can happen, but only in circumstances where there is no way out.’
‘Like what?’
‘Like totally undetectable black ice, combined with another conventional car pulling out at speed unexpectedly, for example.’ James suddenly became more animated. ‘Or oil, which is hidden, perhaps because of the camber of the road.’
‘I see. Then, assuming your car was in autonomous mode, we would be looking for something like that, at the scene?’
‘Yes.’ James laughed suddenly and the two women waited for him to elaborate. ‘Sorry. Of course it’s not funny,’ he said. ‘It’s just that this whole issue has been debated over and over recently. Our illustrious insurers want the government to pick up the tab for all collisions involving autonomous vehicles, when they are first introduced.’
‘And what does the government say to that?’
‘What you would expect.’
‘Why are the insurers taking that approach?’
‘They foresee it will be too complicated to explore fault in autonomous vehicles, at least at the beginning, but I think that’s an excuse. I mean, they can easily adapt the current process. They are focused too much on profit.’
‘And you’re not?’
‘I am running a business and I want it to be successful, if that’s what you mean. But safety is always SEDA’s first concern.’
‘How did you suffer your own injuries? Do you know?’
‘Ah, silly, really. I broke three ribs and bashed my head. They think I wasn’t wearing my seat belt properly. That may be right. Sometimes, I spread my work out across the car, even on the back seat. I might have pushed the belt down across my waist to reach my papers. Then, on impact, I hit the air bag pretty hard.’
‘The airbag inflated?’
‘I believe so. I hope so. The EDR will say. If you view the car, you’ll be able to see. Our cars are very safe. We have brought in a number of radical features to protect drivers.’
‘Yes. I read that too.’
‘Look. I was wondering. Supposing this does all go to a trial and, we don’t manage, well, what’s the worst that could happen?’
‘It’s a bit artificial to talk about now, as we have no idea what happened. But, assuming you pleaded not guilty and there was a trial and you were to lose, you would be sentenced to anything from around two years up to fifteen.’
‘Fifteen years in prison!’
‘The maximum sentence is reserved for the most serious offences; excessive speed over a prolonged period, under the influence of alcohol or drugs, use of your mobile phone or driving a car with mechanical problems you know about. Although I haven’t read many of your papers yet, it appears that few, if any, of those aggravating factors are present, but, because of the deaths, it would definitely be a custodial sentence.’
‘What about pleading guilty?’
‘That’s up to you; were you to do that now, we are unlikely to get to the bottom of what really happened.’ Judith paused. James watched her intently. ‘But your sentence would be reduced. Of course, I don’t see how you can do that, when you don’t remember what happened and you haven’t had a look at your EDR. Of course, this is all assuming you were in control of the vehicle.’
‘Yes, I understand. Thank you for being so candid. I do need to go now or I’ll be late. The show must go on and all that,’ James accompanied them towards the door and forced another half smile. ‘But, like I said, feel free to call Toby. He loves visitors.’
