‘Fairness has got nothing to do with anything,’ said Beckwith. ‘Start getting your priorities in order, OK?’
Twenty-Two
Harvey Jordan was too experienced at performing, at being, someone else for there to be any outward indication of his shocked realization that he was showing the slightest concern for anyone other than himself, certainly somebody, however inadvertently, who had turned his life on its head as Alyce Appleton had done. He continued the review of the day’s events with the two lawyers in Reid’s office and responded sufficiently in the car returning him and Beckwith to the hotel, but the moment he got there was relieved to escape into the seclusion of his locked suite uninterruptedly to examine and analyze what he started out regarding as an inexplicable lapse.
As such it was unthinkable, virtually beyond comprehension. And there’d actually been previous warnings from Beckwith, before that day’s very necessary and positive rebuke. But it didn’t demand sackcloth-and-ashes penitence, Jordan reassured himself. There was even a partial, acceptable, self-explanation. The situation into which he’d been pitch-forked wasn’t one to which he was accustomed and professionally skilled, unlike the environment – the bank account fraud being the most obvious – in which he knew practically by instinct every move and trick, was able to recognize every manoeuvre. It was because he knew every trick and manoeuvre that he’d adjusted and now had all his electronic spyholes already drilled: and because of them had that very day knocked Appleton’s lawyer flat on his fat ass to end up, so far at least, hopefully with the judge tilting in Beckwith’s – and therefore his – favour.
But it was still different from what he normally did and how he did it. Apart from his dealings with the New York banks he wasn’t playing a part, pretending to be someone else whose identity he would shuck off like an unwanted skin when he’d achieved all that he wanted. In court he really was Harvey William Jordan, doing everything and more to escape an entrapment and its potential cost under an incredible medieval law comparable to the rack or being hanged, drawn and quartered, financially if not physically. So it made good and very practical sense to show consideration to Alyce, to protect her even, because from today’s behaviour she was doing very little to protect herself, with the wheezing Bob Reid scarcely doing much more. Jordan had meant what he’d told her today. He didn’t want to fight her: didn’t feel any animosity towards her for what had happened. He didn’t yet know – and couldn’t anticipate – how he might need her but whatever and however that turned out to be, it was essential that at all times she remained on his side. Essential, too, that she confirmed that France had been nothing more than a holiday dalliance, ending with no commitments and no regrets but most importantly of all, with no alienation of any affections. He most certainly couldn’t risk Alyce turning against him and changing her story – the true and genuinely honest story – if things started to go wrong with her case and her defence.
And Daniel Beckkwith should recognize that. Jordan determined that Beckwith definitely would if the lawyer started lecturing again at any time in the future about how he was treating Alyce. Because he’d spell out to the man the obvious reasons for doing so: let Beckwith know that what he was doing needed to be done solely for his own self-protection. Maybe remind the thwarted cowboy, even, of everything he’d done and suggested already to bring them out ahead in today’s confrontations. For Reid or Beckwith or both of them to imagine that he actually had some lingering interest in Alyce beyond getting as far away from her and everything in which she had involved him was a load of crap. He’d tell Beckwith that, too, if it ever came up between them again.
It had been good to think things through, analyze everything in his mind. And he had analyzed it, subjectively as well as objectively. The two lawyers had got it wrong, perhaps understandably, and he had acknowledged how easily it had been for them to make the mistake. Now it was over, resolved in his mind which was the only consideration because his escape from each and every problem with which he was confronted was all that mattered.
Jordan was first in the bar after his nightly laptop session, freshly showered and changed ahead of either Beckwith or George Abrahams, with whom they’d fixed dinner before quitting the court. Abrahams, the next to arrive, hadn’t changed his clothes but he appeared more relaxed outside both the court and his consulting rooms. Beckwith arrived again in jeans and the bison-figured belt and tooled cowboy boots, hair flowing unrestrained.
The conversation was awkwardly stilted in the beginning, Jordan initially happy to leave the obvious effort to Beckwith and the venerealogist, waiting for something of relevance before intruding himself, alert to an inviting opportunity. It came as he was completing the second drinks order, from a remark from Abrahams. There was an echo of something that had passed between the two lawyers during their earlier, after-court conference but Jordan seized it ahead of his own attorney.
‘Isn’t there an agreed format, a template, in which these types of medical reports are prepared, for presentation to a court?’ Jordan asked.
‘I don’t believe so,’ said Abrahams. ‘It’s not particularly common: this is the first time in over a year, fourteen months to be exact, that I’ve been asked to prepare the sort of assessment I did upon you.’
Jordan looked between the doctor and his lawyer. To Beckwith he said, ‘I understood when I first arrived from England that it was far more frequent than that: that Dr Abrahams was your regular consultant?’
‘Dr Abrahams is the specialist I’ve called upon since I began practising in Manhattan. Twice, I think.’
‘Twice,’ agreed the doctor.
‘So each specialist presents his assessments and findings on a case-by-case basis, in the form of his own choice?’ persisted Jordan.
‘I suppose so,’ said Abrahams.
‘In other situations – I’m not asking you to betray any other lawyer or case confidentiality – have you ever before encountered the sort of omission about antibodies or antigens that was thrown up today?’ asked Jordan, who was unsure if the doctor’s pause following the question was for recall or the man’s reflection upon confidentiality.
Eventually Abrahams said, ‘I’ve come across it once before. It was the first time the venerealogist for the other side had prepared such a court assessment. It was lack of experience, not an intentional withholding.’
‘What are you suggesting the fault is in this case?’ seized Beckwith.
‘I’m not suggesting anything,’ bristled the man.
‘It sounded to me as if you were surprised in this particular case,’ said Beckwith.
‘Dr Chapman is a recognized microbiologist in the field of sexually communicable infections,’ said Abrahams. ‘He’s published, to some professional acclaim, two specific papers, one even more specifically upon chlamydia. I would not have expected him to have ignored antibody reference or evidence, either positive or negative.’
‘Surely a positive finding would be of the utmost significance!’ pressed the lawyer.
‘Of course it would,’ finally confirmed Abrahams, his familiar testiness returning.
Beckwith did not respond to Jordan’s look, although Jordan was sure the other man was conscious of his attention. As he was sure of several other things. One was that Abrahams had been reluctant, without pressure, to appear to criticize a colleague whose publicly acknowledged work the man admired. Another was that Chapman’s reputation beyond Boston hadn’t been established by either lawyer, which yet again was more a failing of Reid, to whose case it was of more direct importance than Beckwith’s, although after that morning’s hearing that was now arguable. And the third was that if he hadn’t persevered – although Jordan accepted he hadn’t started out with any targeted intention – another potentially important discovery wouldn’t have been made. Quickly he said, ‘What about Dr Lewell?’
‘I know nothing of Dr Lewell’s work,’ replied the man. ‘I did not know of her until this case.’
‘The English examination tha
t I underwent before coming here?’ Jordan asked Abrahams. ‘What did you think of it, professionally?’
Again Abrahams hesitated, before saying, ‘Muddled. Completely inadequate.’
‘Which was why I arranged the second examination by Dr Abrahams,’ stressed Beckwith.
‘Had you already exchanged that initial, inadequate English report with the lawyers representing Appleton and Leanne Jefferies?’
Now it was Beckwith who hesitated, recognizing the possible inference from the question. At last he said, ‘Yes. That’s why I had it carried out in England, as part of the accepted, pre-court exchanges. Then I changed my mind and decided we needed something from an American specialist.’
‘Without telling the other side?’
Beckwith nodded but did not speak.
Jordan said, ‘So, until you officially exchanged the second report they would have thought you were proceeding upon the first, English findings, findings which Dr Abrahams has just told us were muddled and completely inadequate?’
‘You’ve made your point, Harvey.’
‘Good,’ said Jordan. ‘Why don’t we go and eat?’
Jordan breakfasted in his room, more interested in accessing his computer sites than eating. He was disappointed that there was no email traffic but remembered that neither the opposing lawyers nor the Boston venerealogists had local facilities and that any communication would have been restricted to telephone or possibly hotel faxes. The overnight arrangement had been for Jordan and the microbiologist to link up with the two lawyers at Reid’s office, although Beckwith was alone when they reached it. Jordan hadn’t bothered with television in his suite, so the local newspaper coverage he’d read in the taxi, relegated to an inside page, was the first he’d seen of the previous day’s court opening. The legal restrictions limited the account to the basic facts of the pre-hearing application being postponed on a procedural technicality, to be reconvened that day. The stock photograph of Alfred Appleton was from his yachting days, which made the image virtually unrecognizable as the man whom Jordan had seen in court the previous day and because of the way she had dressed herself down, with practically no make-up, the library picture of Alyce wasn’t a good representation, either.
‘Bob has had to go to persuade Alyce to show up,’ announced Beckwith. ‘She called him last night, saying her doctor was prepared to appear today and say the strain would be too much for her to be in court.’
‘I don’t want to be kept here another day,’ protested Abrahams, at once. I should have been back in New York today; my diary’s shot to hell!’
‘You will be back tonight,’ promised Beckwith. ‘We can go on in her absence, with the judge’s agreement; she’s not part of my application. But Bob thinks Pullinger would consider it a spoilt girl’s cop-out and I agree. I don’t want to lose whatever we might have gained yesterday.’ He looked at Abrahams. ‘We’ve managed to get print-outs of Chapman’s medical journal papers you talked about last night, back at the hotel. They could turn out to be very useful.’
‘When will we know if Alyce is going to show up?’ asked Jordan.
‘Bob’s going to call from his cellphone.’ The lawyer looked very directly at Jordan, as if expecting him to say more, but Jordan didn’t.
‘You think I could safely make a late afternoon reservation back to New York?’ asked the doctor.
‘Maybe wait a while: give ourselves an hour in court to see how things go.’
They rode unspeaking to the Raleigh courthouse, using the same entry route as the previous day through connected city buildings. Jordan looked intently through the windows as they walked, but failed to detect any photographic ambush.
Beckwith’s cellphone went as they were ascending the inner steps leading up to their assigned court. The lawyer hunched briefly over it, his back to the flow of people up and down the stairs. Turning back to Jordan, he said. ‘Alyce is coming. So’s her doctor.’
Alyce looked visibly ill, walking falteringly but unaided and in total contrast to the striding confidence that Jordan remembered from her entry into the Carlyle hotel just a few days earlier. There was no make-up at all and the plain black dress, devoid of any jewellery, accentuated the pallor of her face. Again she ignored everyone, including Jordan, but when she reached her adjacent table she turned back for the reassurance of her doctor’s presence. The man was about the same age as Alyce, bespectacled and blond haired. He’d taken a seat directly behind her, nodding in reassurance at her look. Reid did not go directly to sit beside Alyce but continued on to the court clerk, gesturing as he talked to the blond newcomer. The clerk, in turn, had a whispered conversation with Pullinger after the judge’s arrival and Pullinger said at once, ‘Mr Reid?’
‘I should explain, your honour, that with your honour’s agreement the man sitting directly behind my client is Dr Walter Harding, the medical director of the Bellamy Foundation hospital here in Raleigh,’ introduced the lawyer. ‘Mrs Appleton is in court today with great difficulty, brought on by the strain of this matter. Dr Harding is prepared to testify before you, should your honour require it, as to Mrs Appleton’s physical condition. He is also prepared to remain in court, with your agreement, to ensure Mrs Appleton’s condition does not deteriorate further.’
The frowning judge looked invitingly to where Bartle and Wolfson sat. Bartle came at once to his feet and said, ‘It is regrettable that Mrs Appleton is feeling such strain but I would remind the court that distress and strain are inevitable consequences of proceedings such as these which have not, in this case, actually begun yet. And that we hope Mrs Appleton recovers sufficiently to avoid any serious disruption or delay.’
‘Sentiments with which I fully concur,’ said Wolfson, rising as Bartle sat.
‘As do I,’ said Pullinger. ‘And with which I am sure you also agree, Mr Reid?’
‘Absolutely, your honour. And thank you for the court’s understanding.’
Jordan was close enough to his own lawyer to hear Beckwith whisper, ‘Shit!’
‘Still on the subject of delay, I trust we are ready to proceed on the matter of medical submissions?’ asked the judge, going back to the two opposing lawyers.
This time they both rose together, each holding a bundle of papers separated by various tags. ‘These are redrawn medical reports prepared overnight by Drs Chapman and Lewell, upon which my fellow attorney, Mr Wolfson, would also like to address the court,’ announced Bartle.
Jordan was conscious of a movement from Beckwith, close beside him, but there was no whispered conversation.
Pullinger allowed some silence to build up in the court before saying, ‘Mr Beckwith?’
‘My expert witness, Dr Abrahams – at some professional and personal inconvenience – has remained here in Raleigh to assist your court, your honour,’ opened Beckwith, as he stood. ‘I very sincerely hope that he will not be detained beyond today. I equally hope that we will be able, expertly and professionally, to examine these new submissions, by recalling Dr Abrahams to the stand to give this court the benefit of his expertise. I would also respectfully ask, pending whatsoever is to emerge from the statements this court has yet to hear from the attorneys representing Alfred Appleton and Leanne Jefferies, that their respective expert medical witnesses can be called to the stand to be examined on oath upon their resubmitted findings.’
There was immediate and obvious movement between the two now identified venerealogists, culminating with Chapman groping forward to attract Bartle’s attention. The attorney half turned towards the gesture but shrugged it off. Instead he rose to say, ‘Your honour, I hope already to have indicated an apology to your court, for a totally inadvertent misunderstanding which I am quite satisfied I can explain to your honour without any further need to protract what is, after all, a subsidiary matter to the main purpose of this court.’
‘Your honour!’ erupted Beckwith, before Pullinger could respond and by so doing coming close to being over-theatrical. ‘I am going to refrain from making the m
ost obvious comments upon what has just been said to your court. Mr Bartle and Mr Wolfson have their expert witnesses behind them in this court! What earthly reason is there for those expert witnesses not being called to be questioned about their original findings, which could have substantial import upon my application before you today and which I in no way consider subsidiary?’
‘A question I would be interested in having answered for me,’ commented Pullinger. ‘Can you help me, Mr Bartle?’
It was not Appleton’s attorney who responded but that of Leanne Jefferies. To fresh movement behind both opposing lawyers, the bewhiskered Wolfson said, ‘Your honour, I wish to assure this court that my expert witness, Dr Jane Lewell, is at your court’s disposal.’
‘As is mine,’ tightly conceded Bartle.
The skeletal Pullinger let the court subside into foot-shuffling, throat-clearing near silence, his vulture-eyed concentration unbroken upon the right of his court. Eventually he said, ‘Mr Bartle?’
‘Your honour?’ responded Appleton’s attorney, forced to his feet again.
‘I do not consider that you satisfactorily responded to my invitation. I no longer offer that invitation, but it will remain on record and most certainly in my mind and I would like you, Mr Bartle, and you, Mr Wolfson, both to bear that very much in mind as this matter proceeds, to whatever its end. Do you, Mr Bartle, fully understand what I am saying?’
‘I do, your honour,’ said Bartle. ‘And in the light of your honour’s comments I withdraw my request to make a statement to the court.’
‘Mr Wolfson?’
‘I do, your honour. And I also withdraw the suggestion of my making a preliminary statement.’
‘Distribute to the relevant parties the newly provided material,’ the judge ordered his clerk. ‘There will be a recess of fifteen minutes to provide an opportunity to study that material.’
‘Dr Abrahams,’ opened Beckwith. ‘Will you tell this court what is indicated in the medical reports upon Alfred Appleton and Ms Leanne Jefferies that have only this day, less than an hour ago, been submitted?’
The Namedropper Page 22
