The Glimpse

by Claire Merle

  She grinned, fear and excitement jostling inside her.

  They passed through a double doorway and turned left into a courtroom. Half a dozen rows of slim tables faced 146

  a raised platform. Wood paneling enclosed the judge’s podium. Centred directly below the platform stood the transcriber’s beech-wood desk. The transcriber’s interface was already synched up to a projection screen.

  The dock lay on Ana’s right-hand side, level with the transcriber’s desk.

  Before the bench, on the left of the courtroom there was a locked glass booth.

  a locked glass booth.

  Ana settled into the front row beside Jackson. It was strange that after nearly three years of folowing Jasper’s studies, it was her and not him putting it al into practice.

  She breathed in the smel of polished wood. Her insides tingled with anticipation.

  The counsel for the prosecution arrived and took his seat at the other end of the front bench. He placed a silver pad on the table and slicked back thick hair with a large, steady hand. He glanced her way but showed no interest.

  The courtroom stirred with the defendant’s arrival.

  Handcuffed to a guard, Cole Winter entered the glass booth from an external doorway. A second guard sealed the booth behind them. The first removed the cuffs, then unlocked the door into the courtroom.

  Ana watched Cole as he crossed to the dock. Despite the shabby suit and bruises on his face, his smooth movements conveyed deep self-assurance. His shorn hair was dark, his eyes deeply set, and his muscular frame towered above the guard. Everyone in the courtroom rose, looking left as the Bench arrived, but Cole turned his gaze to their table. His eyes met Ana’s and locked on her. Heat rose to her cheeks.

  She struggled to disengage but found it impossible until he looked away.

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  The Bench stepped up to their raised seats. As two of the three judges sat, everyone but Cole and the prison guards on either side of him, did likewise.

  guards on either side of him, did likewise.

  ‘The court requests the defendant gives his ful name for the records,’ the standing magistrate said.

  ‘Cole Alexander Winter.’

  The deep, smooth quality of his voice surprised Ana. She found herself looking at him again, noticing a tattoo the size of a postage stamp peeping out of his shirt colar. He seemed to sense her. His eyes flicked to where she sat.

  She looked down immediately, staring at the pad on her lap.

  ‘We are here to discern,’ the standing magistrate said,

  ‘whether the court has the right to hold you under the pre-charge detention of the 2017 Terrorism Act. This wil be a plea before venue.’ The magistrate pushed horn-rimmed glasses up his nose several times as he spoke. ‘We wish to know,’ he continued, ‘if you are later arrested for the abduction of Jasper Taurel, how wil you plead.’

  ‘Not guilty,’ Cole said.

  ‘Prosecution, you may stand to outline your reasons for holding the defendant.’

  The prosecution rose and recounted the circumstantial evidence weighing against Cole: his presence the night of the abduction in the same car park as Jasper; the formative years Cole spent with the Enlightenment Project; his close relationship with the terrorist Richard Cox.

  Ana switched the pad to mute and practised touchtyping Ana switched the pad to mute and practised touchtyping with the screen lying flat on her lap. As she focused her breathing, entering the light zone of concentration she 148

  used for her piano-playing, she decided she would not look at Cole again. He totaly unnerved her.

  The prosecutor outlined Cole’s prior conviction for GBH

  and his arrest two years ago in connection with the abduction of a Novastra employee.

  ‘Jasper Taurel,’ the prosecutor said, ‘is the son of Novastra CEO, David Taurel. In each of Mr Winter’s prior arrests, Novastra was the target. This alone, I’m sure, is enough to convince this court that Mr Winter’s presence in the car park, under no circumstances—’

  ‘Objection!’ Ana fumbled to her feet. Jackson squinted warily at her. ‘Mr Winter was questioned, but never charged in either of his prior detentions,’ she said, hoping the wobble in her voice wasn’t too obvious. ‘His prior arrests should not be counted against him.’

  The female magistrate scowled. ‘This isn’t a trial, miss, sit down.’ Ana plonked into her seat. The magistrate’s eyes slid across to the prosecution. ‘Stick to the point,’ she instructed.

  The prosecution straightened his tie and cleared his throat. ‘A look at Jasper Taurel’s telephone bil wil remove any doubt from this courtroom as to whether Mr Winter’s presence in the car park can be considered a mere coincidence.’

  At that moment a digital phone bil came up on the double-sided projection screen. ‘This is Jasper Taurel’s double-sided projection screen. ‘This is Jasper Taurel’s phone bil, dating from 1st February of this year until March 21st – the night of his abduction.’

  The prosecutor, Ana realised with a smal stab of frustration, had his interface linked up with the courtroom screen.

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  He flicked a finger in front of his tie and the last number came up highlighted.

  ‘This is the last number Jasper Taurel phoned on March 21st, 8.45 p.m., approximately seven minutes before the car we believe abducted him was caught on camera leaving the blue Barbican car park. The recipient number of this cal is registered to Mr Richard Cox, who is currently serving a life-sentence for the Tower Bridge bombing. The man who pays his telephone bils however, is sitting right here in this courtroom.’

  A bank statement flashed up on screen, confirming the prosecutor’s statement.

  Shock fluctuated through Ana, radiating from her stomach into her feet and her hands. Cole paid Cox’s phone bil. Which meant he stil had to be involved with the Enlightenment Project. But why would Jasper ring Cox the evening of the concert? Why would he even have his number?

  The prosecutor smoothed his tie and sat back down.

  Jackson bustled to his feet. Ana flicked her forefinger twice to reactivate the interface vocal response and then remembered she’d disconnected the pad. Her heart flipped into her throat. Her eyes raked over the touch-flipped into her throat. Her eyes raked over the touch-responsive screen but the mute symbol had disappeared.

  Jackson stood beside her, waiting. The silent courtroom also waited.

  She peered down at where the mute symbol had been only moments ago. Her hands trembled. Her breath sounded raspy and loud even to her own ears.

  There it was! She touched a clammy finger to the symbol and began to type.

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  We draw the judiciary’s attention to the case of Peter Vincent.

  Despite herself, Ana glanced at Cole. Their eyes linked for a second. She shivered. Jackson began to speak, his words flat, stilted. Cole wouldn’t be the only one questioning what was going on if the lawyer didn’t deliver his lines better than that.

  Ana closed her eyes. Blocking out Jackson and Cole as best she could, she set forth the argument of Peter Vincent.

  The words flowed from her, but splattered from the defence lawyer. He bled them of al meaning and significance, until it became excruciating to listen to.

  Reaching the close of her argument, Ana peered at the Bench. The female magistrate stared at Jackson with contempt. The two men seated either side of her shuffled papers as though readying to leave. Jackson didn’t even have their attention, there was no way he could influence their decision.

  their decision.

  Jackson realised he’d finished, abruptly halted and sunk down. The woman looked at the two men. Both nodded.

  Without conferring further, the female magistrate stood to give their decision.

  Ana scrambled to her feet. ‘Excuse me, sorry . . .’ she said.

  ‘I know it’s unorthodox in a pre-trial hearing, but in light of the telephone bil the prosecution omitted to show us prior to today, we would like to ask
Mr Winter a couple of questions.’

  The younger male magistrate looked surprised, the other two bored.

  ‘Al right. Keep it brief,’ the elder of the men said.

  Ana brushed out the black skirt Rachel had leant her, 151

  smoothed her hazelnut-dyed hair and straightened her shoulders. The questions she had were for her own benefit and would more likely incriminate Cole than help him. But she had to know.

  ‘Mr Winter,’ she said, bracing herself to meet his gaze.

  But he was looking down at his lap, as though he knew he unhinged her and was trying to make this easier. ‘Why did Jasper Taurel phone Richard Cox the night he disappeared?’

  ‘No idea.’

  ‘Do you know Jasper Taurel?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘What were you doing in the Barbican underground car park on the 21st of March?’

  Cole’s gaze flickered up with interest. It felt like a match struck in the centre of her mind, destroying her thought process.

  ‘I’m a musician,’ he said. ‘I was at the Barbican for the concert. Just before the end, I saw a student from my academy leaving the concert hal and I folowed her out to talk to her.’ Ana thought of his perfectly pitched wind chimes. She shouldn’t have felt surprised that he was a music student, but for some reason it threw her off. Like everything else about him.

  ‘Was she a friend?’

  ‘No, we’d never officialy met.’

  ‘Get to the point,’ the female magistrate growled, ‘or sit down, miss.’

  ‘The defendant has a clear, innocent motive for attend-ing the concert,’ Ana said, putting on an authoritative voice 152

  like her father’s. ‘If we can show the court that he is, as he claims, a music student, and that he was folowing a felow student out of the concert, we have established a motive for his presence at the Barbican on the night of Jasper Taurel’s abduction, leaving the prosecution’s only case against Mr Winter that he was taken by the state case against Mr Winter that he was taken by the state from his mother when he was four and put in one inadequate foster home after another, until he ran away from an orphanage and ended up spending his teenage years hiding from the authorities in the Enlightenment Project. Wil Mr Winter be discriminated against for a third time, because the government was unable to provide him with a secure upbringing?’

  She paused, wondering if Cole was teling the truth. If he was lying, he’d just made his own bed.

  The younger male Bench member put down his papers and leaned forward.

  ‘As this is not a trial,’ Ana continued, ‘if any other evidence is brought to bear against Mr Winter concerning Jasper Taurel’s abduction, the court wil of course stil up-hold the right to detain him again.’

  ‘Objection,’ the prosecution said. ‘We have Jasper Taurel’s phone bil linking him to Mr Cox and Mr Winter.’

  ‘But there is nothing linking the Enlightenment Project to Mr Taurel’s abduction,’ Ana argued. ‘The Wardens currently state it could have been any number of religious or fanatical groups.’ She paused, taking her time, anticipating the moment she would twist the facts around in her favour.

  ‘As far as I’m aware, it is not usual practice for a victim to cal their kidnappers several minutes before an abduction. It actualy strikes me as rather preposterous.

  Unless 153

  the prosecution can explain to this court the logic of Mr the prosecution can explain to this court the logic of Mr Taurel attempting to contact his kidnappers before he vanished, I don’t see how Mr Taurel’s telephone bil bears any relevance to the issue at hand.’

  The older male magistrate conferred with his coleagues, then nodded for Ana to go on. She assumed he wished her to prove Cole’s claims of being a musician and folowing a felow student.

  ‘If it’s possible,’ she said, ‘we’d like to cal up the surveilance footage the prosecution submitted in evidence against Mr Winter, claiming he folowed Mr Taurel down to the car park.’

  The transcriber checked with the bench and received an affirmative nod. A few seconds later, the surveilance recording appeared on the screen. A black and white image showed an overhead shot of Jasper furtively entering the blue alcove by the concert hal bar, and exiting through a stairwel off to the right marked car park. The transcriber forwarded through the next two and a half minutes of footage until a man, strongly resembling Cole, approached the silver lift door next to the stairwel exit. At the base of the man’s neck was an empty square tattoo, making his identity indisputable.

  A girl already stood at the lift, waiting.

  Ana gaped at the projection, speechless. It was her! She was standing right beside Cole. He said something and her screen-self nodded. The lift doors opened. They entered.

  Ana clung to the courtroom desk. Think now, freak out later, she warned herself.

  The night before last she’d been so determined to find 154

  Jasper, she’d barely noticed the man in the white shirt and scruffy suit trousers beside her. She’d thought he was one of the Pure chauffeurs going down to Level One where al the drivers gathered at the end of the evening.

  She’d felt uncomfortable riding alone in the lift with him, but she’d been too worked up to worry about it.

  ‘May we rol back the surveilance tape, please?’ she said.

  Her tongue felt heavy and uncooperative, making it hard to get the words out. The images reversed showing Cole backing through the bar, and several seconds later she was striding backwards too.

  ‘Is it possible to access the camera from the balcony corridor of the concert hal so we can see if, as Mr Winter said, he folowed the girl out and not Mr Taurel?’

  she asked.

  The transcriber nodded and within a minute the dim corridor leading down out of the concert hal to the bar, filed the screen. Ana saw herself exit the hal in a hurry.

  About twenty seconds later, Cole came after her. What was he doing in the balcony seats? And more to the point, why was he folowing her? Fortunately, the specifics of where they’d both exited – seats alocated only to Pures – didn’t seem to matter to anyone else.

  From across the courtroom, Ana felt the heat of Cole’s eyes on her. Instinctively, her hand rose to her cropped brown hair.

  ‘The music school where you and the girl attend?’ she asked, though of course she knew the answer.

  ‘The Royal Academy of Music.’

  ‘Would it be possible to access the Royal Academy of Music’s student list?’ she asked the court.

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  The transcriber set to work again. Cole cleared his throat. She purposefuly ignored him. Rather theatricaly, he cleared it again. She turned slowly, struggling to meet his gaze.

  ‘I’m not a student,’ he said. His eyes twinkled. She pressed her fingers into her forehead, hoping she wouldn’t faint. ‘I’m a teacher. I go in from time to time and help with the composition class.’

  ‘Here it is,’ the transcriber said. She’d puled up a list of Academy departments and professors. Cole’s name was among the visiting professors for composition.

  ‘Wel,’ the elder male magistrate said, ‘it looks as though Mr Winter had as good a reason to be at the Barbican on Thursday evening as anyone else. As the young lady here so rightly points out, this is not a trial. The Wardens have already had Mr Winter for two days of questioning and if they wish to detain him any longer they’l either need to charge him or come up with more evidence indicating his involvement.’

  The prosecutor jumped to his feet. ‘But what if he runs?’

  ‘No charges have been brought against Mr Winter. He is

  ‘No charges have been brought against Mr Winter. He is free to come and go as he pleases. Case dismissed.’

  Cole looked over at Ana and smiled. Her whole body began to shake.

  He’d been folowing her the night Jasper was abducted.

  He paid Richard Cox’s phone bils. He’d recognised her even with the brown eyes and brown hair. He knew who she was: a par
t-time music student at the Royal Academy; the girl Jasper was bound to; the daughter of the man who practicaly invented the Pure test the Enlightenment Pro-156

  ject preached against. She was probably the back-up plan in case they had any problems with Jasper. And she’d just got him off the hook.

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  14

  The Rescue

  Within minutes the only people remaining in the courtroom were Ana, Jackson and Cole. Slumped in his seat, Jackson looked neither victorious, nor relieved, just humiliated.

  ‘Sorry,’ Ana said, handing him back his interface.

  ‘Why?’ Cole asked, sweeping over to them and standing square on to her. ‘You did it because he couldn’t.’ He stretched out an arm to shake her hand. ‘Thank you.’

  Ana stared at his open palm, afraid of touching him, afraid of looking into his eyes. She swayed and gripped afraid of looking into his eyes. She swayed and gripped the table to steady herself.

  ‘Are you al right?’ he asked.

  She clambered out from behind the long desk and ran into the aisle. She didn’t look back as she flew towards the double doors. She had no idea if Cole would folow.

  She just knew she had to get as far away from him as possible.

  Outside, she slowed to a brisk walk and checked behind her. Beyond the stone gable a security guard lounged beside the metal detector; the halway lay empty.

  Ana stalked down the path to the street. She’d come al this way only to have her plan ripped out from under her.

  Cole would hardly help her find out if Jasper was in the En-158

  lightenment Project when it seemed likely he’d been sent to kidnap her if Jasper became a problem.

  A hundred metres up the road on her right, Nate and Rachel saw her and began hurtling forward. Ana put her head down and turned left, heading for the junction with Ave Road. Nate shouted and burst into a run. The patter of his trainers grew louder. Then suddenly stopped.

  She shot a look over her shoulder and saw Cole swagger out of the courthouse. Nate punched the air with his fist and whooped with joy.

  Ana turned the corner into Ave Road and began to run.