Harker took a gulp of water. He said, ‘Maybe I was unwise to ignore Mr Humphrey. But I was innocent, as far as I was concerned the man had no grounds for suspecting me, he was being pompous, making snide comments about my answers. I was … angry that he was adding to my torment with his stupid questions.’
‘Really?’ Vance sneered. ‘Really?’ Then he asked blandly: ‘So do explain again to the jury how you, so innocently, came to be smuggling your illegal firearm with you when you attempted – illegally, with your expired passport – to leave the British Virgin Islands. You’ve told us that you did it because, as a soldier, you were simply accustomed to carrying arms. Yes?’
Harker shifted. ‘Yes.’
‘But,’ Vance said, ‘your firearm was packed in your bag which was going into the hold. Concealed. A soldier carries a weapon openly for constant use. Yours was hidden for future use, was it not?’
Harker’s mind fumbled. ‘I hoped it wasn’t going to be used at all.’
‘So it was for emergencies? Like shooting it out with police trying to arrest you for murder? But you knew it was illegal to bring your gun ashore, illegal to smuggle it on to the aircraft. Didn’t you?’
Harker sighed. ‘Yes, I knew it was illegal.’
‘Like it was illegal when you smuggled it on to the plane in New York when you went out to join the boat. And then smuggled it into the Bahamas?’
Harker said desperately, ‘But that proves that my purpose was innocent, doesn’t it? When we left New York, Josephine was alive so there was no question of shooting it out with police, as you suggested.’
Vance grinned. ‘Josephine was alive, yes. And Josephine had just made her will in your favour. You intended to murder her, so having your gun would be handy.’
Harker closed his eyes and shook his head.
‘No?’ Vance leered: ‘So tell me – did Josephine know you were smuggling a firearm aboard the plane to the Bahamas? Did you make her an accomplice to those crimes?’
Harker was caught off guard. He hesitated. ‘Yes.’
‘You hesitated again!’ Vance cried. ‘Why?’
‘Because …’ Harker faltered, ‘I was trying to remember.’
‘Trying to remember? But Josephine was a law-abiding, sensible woman, wasn’t she? And she was very excited about taking off to fulfil a dream of sailing the world. So wasn’t she worried when she found out you intended smuggling a firearm into the Bahamas? Wasn’t she horrified at the risk that you, both of you, could be caught out, arrested at the airport and sent to jail – that your whole dream could blow up in your faces because of one stupid gun? Wasn’t she?’
Harker swallowed. ‘Yes, she was worried but –’
‘Then, why did you have to try to remember?’
Harker sat in the witness box, pale, his heart pounding. Vance let the silence lengthen. Then he said, ‘You can’t answer that question, can you? Because if Josephine had known she would have made such a fuss that you would remember clearly. So it’s obvious that Josephine did not know. So, why you are lying?’
Harker swallowed. ‘I’m not lying.’
‘No? Well, we’ll leave that to the jury to decide – and to wonder why. But while we’re talking about guns, did Josephine know about the other pistol, the Smith & Wesson 38?’
‘No,’ Harker said.
Vance smiled. ‘Oh, you’ve learnt your lesson, haven’t you? But when you noticed it was missing you must have been worried?’
‘Yes.’
‘Yes, because the police regard stolen firearms as a serious matter, you know that?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you kept this gun in the glove-box of your car.’
‘No, not usually. But I had put it there one trip when we went skiing, I think, and forgot it. Next time I looked it was gone.’
‘Gone. And you must have been mystified. And worried, because if the gun were used by the thief to commit a crime and it was traced back to you as the registered owner, you might have been suspected of committing the crime. So why in heaven’s name didn’t you protect yourself – and do your legal duty – by reporting to the police?’
Harker gave a deep, tense sigh. ‘I’ve told you: in the hurly-burly of packing up I simply forgot.’
Vance smiled. ‘Despite the seriousness you, a senior military officer and successful publisher, simply forgot …’ He smiled at the jury. ‘I put it to you, Major Harker, that that gun was not stolen. That you smuggled it with the other one into the Bahamas, unknown to Josephine, and the .38 bullet that was found, which made the hole in the saloon cushion, was fired from that gun.’
Harker glanced at the jury, then shook his head. ‘The hole was there when I bought the boat. The gun went missing long before.’
‘Then why was the licence for it found in your wallet?’
‘I simply brought it along with the other licence for the smaller Browning. I kept both licences together.’
‘I put it to you that the licence was found on you because the gun was aboard originally, and fired the .38 bullet found in the cushion.’
Harker swallowed. ‘If the .38 was on board, why wasn’t it found?’
‘I will ask the questions, thank you. But I will make an exception and answer yours. It was not found because you, Mr Harker, threw it overboard, after you had shot Josephine with it! To get rid of the evidence.’
The accusation hung. The courtroom was silent. All eyes were on Harker. He was very pale, his face haggard. He said huskily, ‘Not so.’
Vance continued relentlessly: ‘She probably threw that heavy book, the Nautical Almanac, at you in self-defence and it broke the glass of the speedometer. Josephine then fled aft, to the rear wheel, where you shot her. She fell and left the bloodstain on the deck. She then either staggered up and toppled into the sea, or you weighted her body and threw it overboard.’
Harker stared at nothing. ‘Not so.’
‘You then tried to scrub the bloodstain off the deck, using soap powder,’ Vance continued. ‘You deliberately damaged the radio by ripping out the transmitter to account for why you didn’t radio for help. You also threw two life-rings and the life-raft over to make it look as if she had fallen overboard accidentally.’
Harker breathed deeply. ‘I deny all that,’ he said huskily.
Vance jabbed his finger. ‘And that’s why you didn’t dash back to America, that’s why you fled south to the faraway British Virgin Islands. To put as much distance and time as practical between you and the scene of the crime in the hopes that Josephine’s murdered body was not found by the authorities when you finally reported to them.’
The courtroom was hushed. All attention was on Harker. He sat rigid, his face gaunt. ‘None of that is true.’
Luke Mahoney sighed; he knew Harker was lying. He glanced at old Charlie: the man’s eyes were hooded.
Vance was saying, ‘And now, let’s just go back briefly to that little airport in the British Virgin Islands, the day you were arrested. Do tell us again, Major Harker, what the destination on your ticket was?’
Harker took a deep breath. ‘Guadeloupe. I intended buying an onward ticket to the Bahamas when I got there, once I knew what my flight options were.’
Vance nodded sagely. ‘Indeed? How very sensible. All of us in this courtroom do that sort of thing all the time – when we want to fly to Canada we buy an air-ticket to Bermuda because once we get to Bermuda we will find out what our flight options are … Very sensible.’
‘What’s, the question?’ Charlie cried.
Vance smirked piteously at the old man, then at the jury, then he said to Harker, ‘Last question, Major.’ He paused. ‘You sold forty-nine per cent of Harvest shares to Josephine for two-point-two million dollars, and you retained two per cent. The reason for this was that, between you, you owned fifty-one per cent and so the two of you could therefore control the company. Correct?’
‘Correct,’ Harker said hoarsely. He took a sip of water.
‘Very sensible,’
Vance said. ‘Happens all the time … But, who owned the other forty-nine per cent of Harvest?’
Harker swallowed. He said: ‘Westminster NV. A company in the Netherlands’ Antilles.’
‘Yes …’ Vance said knowingly. ‘And who owns Westminster?’
‘It’s …’ Harker hesitated. ‘It is a holding company for a number of shareholders who wish to remain anonymous.’
‘Oh, understandable,’ Vance said. ‘But when it came to annual general meetings, how did the Westminster shareholders cast their votes?’
Harker took a tense breath. ‘Through the Westminster accountant who was given proxies.’
Vance nodded. ‘And you don’t know the identity of these Westminster shareholders?’
Harker was ashen. ‘Correct.’
Vance smiled. He walked slowly to the witness box, holding a document. He handed it to Harker and said, ‘Is that your signature on this deed of sale, dated 1991?’
Harker closed his eyes. He took a deep breath. Then he glanced at the document.
‘Yes,’ he whispered.
‘I put that document in as Exhibit Twenty-two, your honour,’ Vance said airily. ‘Tell the jury about it, Mr Harker.’
Luke and Charlie were staring in astonishment. Harker took a trembling breath.
‘This is a deed of sale which says I bought all the shares in Westminster from the original shareholders in 1991.’ He closed his eyes.
There was a murmur in the courtroom.
Vance let the answer take its full effect. Then he said softly, ‘So you lied to us. You do know who the shareholders of Westminster are. Yourself.’
Everybody was staring at Harker. He had his eyes closed. He nodded faintly. ‘Yes.’
Again Vance let that hang. Then, softly: ‘Why did you lie to us?’
Harker still had his eyes closed. He shook his head.
‘I’ll tell you why …’ Vance proposed. ‘Because you did not want the jury to know that you alone still controlled Harvest House, even though you had sold forty-nine per cent to Josephine. Despite that sale, you controlled everything, because with the two per cent you retained, plus the forty-nine you bought from Westminster, you controlled fifty-one per cent – even without Josie’s votes. No matter what happened, you could always outvote Josephine if you wanted to!’ He paused, angrily. ‘Or her heirs, if she ever changed her will.’ Vance glared then jabbed his finger. ‘And Josephine had no idea of this, did she? Because, if she had known she would not have risked her money to buy your other forty-nine per cent!’ He glared, then cried: ‘Isn’t that so?’
Harker had his eyes closed. He remained silent. After a moment, Vance went on, ‘And you did not want the jury to know all this because with Josie’s forty-nine per cent which you inherit under her will and your Westminster shares you own one hundred per cent!’ He paused for effect, then he cried, ‘And as you own one hundred per cent, you’ll have all of the three million dollars insurance Harvest had on her life, plus her own insurance, plus other assets such as her apartment! And the boat …’ Vance paused, his eyebrows raised; then he said quietly, ‘Nice work if you can get away with it.’
Harker was looking at him now, shaking his head. He said huskily, ‘Not so.’
Vance smiled. ‘No? Well, I make all those details I just mentioned total about six million dollars.’ He paused. ‘Isn’t that about right?’
Harker stared at him, his face grey.
‘Yes,’ Vance said languidly, ‘about six million, give or take a million …’ Then he picked up Harker’s bank statement and studied it theatrically, with a frown. ‘And at the moment your bank balance, after paying off all your debts is …’ His frown deepened. ‘Only a little over nine thousand dollars.’ He paused and looked at the jury with a smile. ‘Wow … Rags to riches, huh?’
‘Objection,’ Charlie cried. ‘What’s the question?!’
Vance smiled maliciously. ‘The question, Mr Harker, is, did Josephine know, when she bought forty-nine per cent of Harvest, that you had bought Westminster? Did she know you would control Harvest even without her shares?’
Harker looked faint. Luke groaned under his breath; old Charlie cursed. Then: ‘Yes,’ Harker said huskily.
Vance smiled. ‘You hesitated again, Mr Harker. Why?’
Harker closed his eyes. ‘I didn’t.’
Vance’s smiled widened. ‘So you’re going to lie about that as well, in the face of the jury? Very well, sir, continue.’
Harker said, ‘Yes, Josephine knew. But she still wanted to buy my shares in case I one day decided I wanted to sell the Westminster portion. If that happened, she could still control Harvest by exercising her option to buy back my other two per cent.’
Vance smiled, nodding, playing cat and mouse. ‘Really? If that’s true why didn’t you just tell us in the first place?’ He let that hang; then he jabbed with his finger. ‘I’ll tell you why. Because it isn’t true. You’re lying again, aren’t you, Mr Harker?’
Harker was shaking. Ashen. He said huskily: ‘I’m not.’ He blundered on: ‘I didn’t shoot Josephine … I don’t know how she came to disappear! And that bloodstain on the transom is not hers, it’s old!’
Vance was smiling at him. ‘Really?’ he said. ‘You don’t say …’ He turned to the jury, smiling for the cameras. ‘No further questions,’ he said. He turned to old Charlie. ‘Your witness. What’s left of him.’
Silence hung deafeningly in the courtroom. Then Charlie rose stiffly, to try to patch up his tattered, doomed client in re-examination.
But Charlie was smiling. He had his hands thrust deep in his pockets, pensively. He said to the ceiling, ‘All very interesting … All very interesting, this dramatic speculation from my young learned friend … and very entertaining.’ He turned his head and beamed at the jury. Then a frown clouded his benign countenance: ‘Because, of course, it’s all based on assumptions.’ He shook his head. ‘And, as any schoolboy will tell you, the conclusion drawn from assumptions is only valid if all the assumptions are proved to be true and correct!’
Vance rose to his feet warily. He drawled, with a weary smile for the camera, ‘Your honour, this is not a question in re-examination, it is rhetoric – or argument. Can my learned friend please be told to get to the point?’
‘Yes, Mr Benson?’ Judge Ludman scowled.
‘Oh,’ Charlie said, palms up, broad enamel smile, ‘all will become clear if Mr Vance will curb his endearing exuberance and listen for a change.’ He turned back to Harker. ‘As I was saying, Major, conclusions based on assumptions are only valid if each and every assumption or premise is correct, isn’t that so?’
Harker swallowed. ‘Yes,’ he agreed.
Old Charlie waved a hand. ‘For example,’ he said conversationally, ‘if the basic premise is: “Canaries have two legs,” the uninitiated might be tempted to argue: canaries have two legs, Mr Jones has two legs, therefore Mr Jones is a canary.’ The jury smiled. ‘Ah, but there is a basic error in the premise or assumption, isn’t there? What is it?’ His finger shot up. ‘Ah – it lies in those legs. So, Mr Jones can be a canary only if you start off with the premise: “Only canaries have two legs”! If that is your basic premise, then Mr Jones must indeed be a canary.’ He beamed. ‘But we know Mr Jones is not in fact a canary, don’t we? So? So it is clear that what is logical can be patently untrue.’
‘What,’ Vance demanded, ‘is the question?’
Old Charlie raised a finger. ‘Ah, the question, quite right …’ He beamed at Vance, then turned to Harker: ‘Can you, in the name of all that’s holy, tell me why, when you were at Tortola airport, if you were trying to collect all this life insurance of Josephine’s, and all her other money and shares, why you would be running away like a self-confessed criminal from all the people who you had to cooperate with in order to get it? Namely, the insurance companies, the lawyers, the police, her father, Harvest House itself?’
Vance was back on his feet. ‘Objection, your honour – this isn’t eviden
ce, this is argument!’
Old Charlie looked astonished. Grieved. Hurt. Cut to the quick. He spread his pink palms.
‘Why, your honour?’ he asked plaintively. ‘What’s Mr Vance’s problem? His weakness in Aristotelian logic? What’s he afraid of? Why doesn’t he want the jury to think about these obvious weaknesses in the prosecution case?’ Charlie looked deeply saddened by the way the administration of justice had fallen into dubious hands of late; he shook his head. ‘Doesn’t he want the jury to arrive at the truth?’
‘Objection,’ Vance groaned.
‘Sustained,’ Judge Ludman sighed.
Charlie’s palms went up in submission again. ‘As your honour pleases …’ He turned to Vance and added, ‘Anything for a quiet life, though I don’t know what you’re scared of, Ed …’
‘Objection!’
Charlie cringed, shielded his ears and looked hurt. ‘Very well, no further questions, your honour,’ he said, deeply mystified by the injustice of his fellow man. ‘I have no further witnesses.’ He added with a catch in his voice, ‘Josephine, alas, having disappeared …’
‘Court will adjourn for lunch,’ Judge Ludman said bad-temperedly. He turned to the jury. ‘The evidence is now over, ladies and gentlemen. After lunch you will hear argument, the closing addresses of the prosecution and the defence, whereafter you will retire to consider your verdict.’
He banged his gavel. Everybody rose. He stalked out of the courtroom.
The people in the public benches shuffled towards the doors. Harker left the witness stand. He walked back to the defence table, exhausted.
‘You bastard,’ Charlie whispered at him. ‘Sit down.’
Harker sat, drawn and trembling.
Charlie fiddled with papers angrily. He waited until the courtroom was almost empty, glancing about. ‘You bastard,’ he repeated. ‘Why the hell didn’t you tell me about those Westminster shares?’ He glared, then threw down his pen in disgust and stood up. ‘Well, I’m going for a drink! A big drink!’
Harker tried to grab his arm. ‘Charlie – it’s the truth …’
‘Oh sure.’ Charlie pulled his arm free, and turned for the door. Harker scrambled up and started after him but the guard grabbed his elbow. ‘Sure,’ Charlie repeated as he stopped and looked over his shoulder. ‘I’m mighty glad the evidence is over and there can be no more surprises.’ He stabbed the air with his finger. ‘At two o’clock we start the addresses to the jury, pal. You haven’t made it easy for me. And right now I’m all you’ve got between you and the electric chair!’
Unofficial and Deniable Page 41
