The Immolation of Eve

by Helen Fields

  ‘Here, you need a decent meal. What was the food like at the hospital?’

  ‘I couldn’t tell you. I wasn’t really hungry, anyway.’

  ‘Sorry, that was idiotic of me. Do you…want to talk about it?’

  ‘I wouldn’t know where to begin. Maybe it’s easier not to try.’

  ‘I saw it on the news, before we found out you’d been on the train. We didn’t think anyone could have come out of that alive. Do you remember much?’ I gave Naomi a few sketchy details as we ate, pretending no memory of the carnage I’d seen. We made small talk for a few minutes about chambers and mutual friends. Naomi had finished and was packing dishes. I set down my cutlery and put my head in my hands. I had to talk to someone about this or I’d go crazy.

  ‘There was one thing,’ I said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s going to sound awful in the circumstances but there was a man, on the train. Before we crashed.’ I felt sick for even talking about this after the lives that were lost but the memory was on a loop in my head. ‘We were kissing.’

  ‘I don’t understand, what man? Where did you meet him?’

  ‘You’re going to think I’ve got post-traumatic stress disorder or something. I don’t know who he was, I can’t describe him to you, it was dark and I was falling asleep and then, well, that’s pretty much it. Only he said something to me and I want to find out what it means. It was in a foreign language, it was something like ‘Cakooshkar’. You’re better at languages than me. Any ideas?’

  ‘I don’t know what it means but it sounds Slavic, presumably he was eastern European. What was the context?’

  ‘No context at all. Just that one word. It’s all I remember.’ Naomi stared at me.

  ‘Are you sure you’re alright, really? You’ve been through a dreadful trauma. Was this man, well, did he make it? We were told that you were the only…’

  ‘I have no idea what happened to him, I just need to know what it meant, if anything. Please help, Naomi, I just can’t get it out of my head. It felt like he was giving me a message.’

  ‘Tell you what, promise you’ll get some sleep and I’ll find the answer for you. Would you please put those plates down? You can’t open the dishwasher with one arm in a sling and the other hand full of crockery.’

  I smiled. Naomi’s the sort of friend who makes life better in a thousand tiny ways.

  ‘Go!’ she said. I went to bed. No dreams that night. I awoke once thinking there was someone in the room, not a scary feeling, just a presence. I turned on my lamp on but there was nothing, just me dishevelled in the mirror. I slept again until past seven.

  Naomi knocked gently and came in carrying a mug of steaming coffee.

  ‘Sorry, I’ve got to run. Southampton Crown Court, gang of drug dealers being sentenced, should be finished by lunchtime though. I’ll come straight back and we’ll do each other’s nails or something equally mindless. Sound good?’

  ‘Sounds perfect.’ I gave her an impromptu kiss on the cheek. ‘And thank you.’

  ‘Take it easy this morning.’ She walked to the door, brushing toast crumbs off the black suit that was our usual work wear. ‘Oh, I meant to tell you last night, a box of papers arrived from your mother’s solicitor while you were away. And that other thing you asked about – I did an internet search. The word you heard must have been Kukushka. It means cuckoo. Make sense now?’

  ‘No, not at all, but thanks anyway.’

  I sipped the coffee lying back against my pillows. Cuckoo. Perhaps I had misheard after all. I was so certain it would make sense to me. Maybe I was more traumatised than I thought. I pushed the bedcovers aside and determined to get on with my day. First job was to phone the clerks and get my work diary in order. I arranged a conference in chambers for the Krakow case the following day whilst it was all fresh in my mind. I’m right handed so the sling wouldn’t stop me scribbling notes. I grabbed some breakfast and contemplated my day. All my briefs were in chambers so work wasn’t an option and I decided not to watch the news in case they were still showing footage of the crash. Unable to face the well-intended emails I turned to the only thing left on my ‘to do’ list: the box of papers from my mother’s solicitor.

  I took a kitchen knife and slit open the parcel tape. Everything inside was immaculately filed except a letter on the top.

  ‘Dear Miss MacKenzie, I enclose for your safe keeping some papers that your mother wanted you to have in the event of her death. Now that matters of probate are concluded I hope you will have some time to go through these. Before she died so unexpectedly in February, Susan had intended to talk to you about the contents personally. I know she would regret not having had the opportunity to do so. Please contact me if I can assist in any way. Yours sincerely, Jacob Slade.’

  I had no idea what the letter meant. My mother died three months ago when she slipped in the shower. The autopsy concluded that she’d died instantly and thankfully didn’t suffer. My father died four years before from cancer that he’d fought for half a decade, taking not just his strength but every shred of dignity. Of the two deaths I knew which I would choose. I had no brothers or sisters so sorting out the estate was simple once the paper work was complete. My parents had used the same solicitors for years and were sticklers for organisation. Their obsession with having everything in its place that I’d rebelled against as a teenager was at last something I appreciated. Now this bizarre reference to whatever my mother had wanted to talk to me about. My parents never struck me as the sort of people to have skeletons in their closets. I was reaching for first file when the doorbell rang. Grateful for any distraction, I went to answer. A young woman stood at the door asking me to sign for a delivery.

  It was a day for surprises, apparently. The parcel was very light and rustled gently. Under several layers of tissue paper was a posy of wild flowers wrapped in silk – red campion, watermint, sowbread, burdock and giant horsetail. It was exquisite and could only have been sent by someone who understood my tastes perfectly. I looked for a card but found none so I set about finding a vase. When the phone rang I was so startled that I jolted back from the tap and got a complete soaking. I grabbed a handset and said my name.

  A man’s voice replied, ‘You got home safely, I’m so glad. Forgive me, Miss MacKenzie, it’s Patrick St John here, from the British Embassy in Slovakia.’

  ‘Oh, hello Patrick, yes everything was fine. No trouble getting through immigration, I’m so grateful for all your help.’

  ‘It’s what we’re here for. I’m sorry to bother you so soon after your arrival home but we’ve had contact from the Slovakian authorities. Their incident investigator would like the opportunity to speak with you to piece together more details about the accident.’

  ‘Of course, I’ll help in any way I can.’

  ‘I was wondering if your chambers or home would be the best place for them to call. Perhaps we could arrange something in a couple of days?’

  ‘That should be fine. Why don’t you pass on my home number?’

  ‘I shall. It was a pleasure to meet you and I’m glad you’re sounding so much better.’

  There was a moment of silence and then Patrick coughed gently.

  ‘I was, um, just wondering if you’d received the flowers we sent. As a welcome home gesture.’

  I grinned at his obvious embarrassment and tried to keep the amusement out of my voice. ‘They’ve just arrived. I would have thanked you but there was no card. They’re so beautiful. How clever of you to send wild flowers. I just got a complete soaking putting them in water and I’m standing here dripping wet.’

  ‘Miss MacKenzie, anything I say in reply is going to come out wrong so I won’t even try.’ I laughed. ‘The choice of flowers just seemed to suit you. Well, back to more routine matters here, unfortunately. Do keep in touch.’

  As I put the phone down my clerks rang to let me know that the prosecution had sent over more documents in the rape case which I needed to read before my conference. Well, I h
ad said I wanted to stay busy. The courier from chambers arrived as I was putting on dry clothes and considering Patrick’s very sweet gesture. Somehow I didn’t think that everyone the British Embassy helped was treated to the same thoughtfulness. As much of a catch as he was, I wasn’t likely to find myself in Slovakia or his company again. I went into my study with the files and there I remained until Naomi got home that evening.

  Three

  The following day I was in chambers for my conference with Albert Cornish and his commanding officer. Courts Martials are the armed forces’ criminal courts with penalties which are not for the faint hearted. Albert was having a run of bad luck. Last year I’d successfully defended him in another case so I guess I was the natural choice second time around. The earlier allegation had been more straightforward. Albert was charged with insubordination to a superior officer, refusing to follow a direct order. It turned out that the officer in question had been repeatedly bullying a young Private. When ordered to hold the lad so that the officer could beat him with his boots after he’d failed to finish a training run, Cornish had refused. The trial turned into a media frenzy. The victimised soldier, obviously fearing reprisals, had a sudden memory lapse in Court but at the end of the day Albert’s impeccable army record and attitude won the Court over. He was likeable, straightforward and patently honest. The publicity from the trial had been devastating for his career but he’d stood his ground which is why I found it so unbelievable that he was back in my care on an altogether more serious charge. He was escorted in by his commanding officer, Captain George Mallard.

  ‘Albert,’ I said. ‘I wish I could say it’s a pleasure to see you again, but I’m sure you’d prefer not to be here at all.’

  ‘Hello Miss MacKenzie. It’s good of you to take the case at all, thought you’d be sick of the sight of me by now.’

  I poured coffee as we settled down to go through the prosecution papers and plan Albert’s defence.

  ‘Let’s start from the top,’ I said as I looked at the prosecution charge. ‘The allegation is that you raped Angela Smyth at Smocza Jama, if I’ve pronounced that right, in Krakow on 4 March 2011. You’ve read Angela’s statement?’ He nodded. ‘And seen the medical evidence?’

  Captain Mallard spoke before Albert could answer. ‘There’s no DNA evidence connecting Lieutenant Cornish with Angela Smyth. As I read it no bodily fluids were found at all. Isn’t that right?’

  ‘Absolutely, but her witness statement does say that the assault stopped prior to ejaculation.’

  ‘It rather sounds as if you’re arguing her side of this. Albert has clearly stated that they did not engage in intercourse at all.’

  ‘Captain, you need to understand what we’re trying to achieve here. Albert knows I will do everything in my power to make sure he is not convicted, but I have to find the weaknesses in our defence. It won’t help for me to sit here and nod without testing Albert’s version of events. I need to examine the evidence the way the Court Martial will see it. You’re right, of course, Albert’s DNA has not been identified inside her body. However, Albert accepted in interview that he’d been socialising with her, they’d had several drinks at the bar and left together at around eleven-thirty.’

  ‘That’s right,’ Albert joined in. ‘But there was another man, someone we met at the bar. He left with us. I can’t understand why she doesn’t mention him at all.’

  ‘You don’t have a name, any more details?’ Albert shook his head and put his face in his hands.

  ‘I know you’ve gone through this all before but take me through that evening, step by step. Remember every detail you can, however insignificant it may seem,’ I encouraged.

  ‘Okay, we’d finished training operations, been given a pass for the night and told to be back at the base by 4am. Angela had been my partner for the training, we got on really well.’

  ‘Had anything happened between you during the operations? Was there anything more than just a working relationship?’

  ‘No, to be honest she’s not my type. I’ve got, sorry, I had a girlfriend back in Colchester. She’s a teaching assistant at a primary school. I was planning to ask Beth to marry me this summer, been saving up for a ring. What are my chances, Miss MacKenzie? I don’t want to lose her.’

  ‘One thing at a time, Albert. Let’s try to get to the bottom of this allegation first. How long were you at the bar before you met this other man?’

  ‘About two hours, although we’d noticed him in there before he joined us. He came into the bar just after us.’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘You couldn’t really miss him. He was well over six foot tall, slim build, looked pretty fit. You know the type, big shoulders, all cheek bones and smouldering eyes.’

  ‘Smouldering? Not the sort of word I imagine you use very often.’

  ‘Not my word: Angela’s. She’d noticed him before we’d ordered our first round of drinks, couldn’t stop staring at him. Eventually he just got up and came to sit at our table.’

  ‘Did he introduce himself? He must have said something. Think about his accent, clothing, tattoos. We need to see if we can get any witnesses to confirm his presence.’

  ‘It’s all been covered,’ said the Captain. ‘The local military police interviewed the bar staff. Apparently the place was packed, quite normal for a Friday night. No-one seems to remember anything at all.’

  ‘He was definitely not English. He spoke with a strong accent – a bit like the Polish soldiers at our training camp only not exactly the same.’

  ‘But he spoke English?’

  ‘Yes, he must have done. I don’t speak anything except English and schoolboy French. We were talking for a good hour before we left, I just can’t remember what we were talking about. From the moment he joined us everything’s a bit vague.’

  ‘How much had you drunk by then?’

  ‘Several beers, maybe six.’

  ‘Nothing else, no spirits, no drugs?’

  ‘Absolutely not.’

  Captain Mallard again. ‘How can he be expected to put together a defence if he was drunk? Most of my men out on a Friday night would be in the same state.’

  ‘I understand that, Captain, but drunkenness isn’t a defence and just because someone can’t remember doing something doesn’t mean they didn’t do it.’

  ‘But I didn’t.’

  ‘I believe you Albert, but we need more than just my faith in you. Do you remember walking through the city after leaving the bar?’

  ‘I remember seeing faces at windows on the way. No-one spoke to us. It was like watching a film with the sound off. I remember feeling….’ He paused.

  ‘You remember feeling what? Albert?’ I prompted.

  ’Like I was watching my own dream. One minute we were walking through the City. The next we were going down these stone steps, flickering lights. A real steep passage with a chain to hold on to and I know it sounds stupid but I could swear there was music playing, I couldn’t see where it came from, but deep inside the cave. That’s the last thing I remember until I was arrested.’

  ‘Still in the, sorry, how do you say the name of this place?’

  Captain Mallard helped, ‘It’s pronounced Smocha Yama. Literally ‘Dragon’s cave’. According to a local legend Prince Krak saved the city by slaying the dragon that lived there.’

  ‘I went to see it when I was on the site visit last week. It’s eerie down there; I still can’t understand why it was unlocked at night.’

  ‘Neither can anyone else. Our liaison at the Polish camp asked the Wawel Castle security officers. It was their night guard who called the police when he heard a disturbance in the cave. As far as they were concerned it had been locked up in the usual way but there was no sign of damage to the lock.’ Captain Mallard picked up his cold coffee, changed his mind and put it down again. ‘Lieutenant, what I don’t understand is how no other man was present when the police arrived. No one mentions him but you.’

  ‘Looks gri
m, doesn’t it, Sir? I don’t know what else to say.’

  The phone rang and my clerk told me that the military police transport had arrived for my visitors. We agreed to leave it there and continue the conversation at the preliminary hearing in Colchester next week. As Albert walked out he shook my hand.

  ‘Is it true that you were in the train wreck in Slovakia last week?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, but I’m absolutely fine. It won’t affect my handling of your case.’

  ‘I know that already Miss MacKenzie. I’m just so grateful to you for helping. I feel responsible – if it weren’t for this mess you’d never have been over there in the first place.’

  ‘Now, Albert, don’t start thinking like that. We’ll see about the engagement ring by the time this is all over, okay?’

  ‘I hope so, Ma’am. See you next week.’

  Captain Mallard had hung back as Albert was escorted out.

  ‘I apologise for my outburst earlier. I know you’re just doing your job. The army is keen to avoid the sort of publicity that rape charges attract, you understand. And for what it’s worth, no-one who knows Lieutenant Cornish believes he’s capable of such a thing.’

  ‘I’ll do all I can, Captain. Thank you for coming today.’ Defending in rape cases is always a heavy responsibility. Albert was facing years and years in prison if convicted. There was a victim who had no obvious reason to lie and medical evidence of internal injuries caused by very rough sex. Then there was this mystery man not even mentioned by the victim who could apparently disappear at will. This wasn’t going to be easy.

  I rolled my head around my shoulders to release some tension. I knew I had to go home and rest before I reread the case. Still, Naomi was cooking dinner which always made me feel better. As I said goodbye to my clerks I could see through the grimy London windows that the weather had turned bad.

  ‘Best take an umbrella, Miss MacKenzie. There a storm brewing,’ said Tom.

  I took his advice and when lightning flashed across the ancient buildings of Middle Temple I quickened my step and refused to think back to the last storm I’d witnessed.