The Namedropper

by Brian Freemantle

  The venerealogist shifted on the witness stand. ‘Both Alfred Appleton and Ms Leanne Jefferies have been successfully treated for Chlamydia trachomatis.’

  ‘What is a chlamydia microimmunofluorescence test?’

  ‘That which is carried out to establish the presence of chlamydia antibodies following the infection of cervicitis in woman and urethritis in men.’

  ‘Cervicitis in women and urethritis in men are conditions caused by a chlamydia infection, are they not?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Do the medical reports of Drs Chapman and Lewell show that Alfred Appleton suffered urethritis and Ms Lleanne Jefferies suffered cervicitis?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What is antichlamydia IgG?’

  ‘The antibody found in the blood of sexually active adults in response to the infection and which may be detected after successful treatment.’

  ‘Do the reports of Drs Chapman and Lewell show that Alfred Appleton and Ms Leanne Jefferies had antichlamydia IgG in their blood at the time of their examination by Drs Chapman and Lewell?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Could there be the slightest doubt about that?’

  ‘Not according to what I have been shown today.’

  ‘Could it have been produced by another complaint or infection?’

  ‘The microimmunifluoscence test is remarkably sensitive and specific. It is medically recognized to be accurate in ninety-nine percent of woman and between eighty to ninety percent of men.’

  ‘Your honour!’ protested Bartle, rising. ‘The fact that my client suffered chlamydia is not contested.’

  ‘Nor is it on behalf of my client,’ said Wolfson, in support.

  ‘But it was not admitted to this court until an hour ago!’ insisted Beckwith, who had not sat during the interjection. ‘I would ask you to find, your honour, that this court be allowed the fullest opportunity to explore this matter, including how and why it was withheld from this court until this later hour.’

  ‘It was not withheld!’ refused Bartle.

  ‘It was most certainly not supplied, which is a requirement of such pre-hearing exchanges,’ came back Beckwith.

  ‘You will proceed, Mr Beckwith, hopefully without any further interruptions, in the hope of this court discovering the truth of the matter,’ ruled Pullinger.

  ‘The court has already learned of your outstanding qualifications in your particular profession field, Dr Abrahams,’ picked up Beckwith. ‘As I understand it, there is no formularized presentation for reports such as these we are discussing. Is that right?’

  ‘That is so.’

  ‘Did you subject the appropriate samples you took from my client to a microimmunofluorescence test?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Which was negative?’

  ‘As I said in evidence yesterday.’

  ‘Had that microimmunofluorescene test proved positive and produced antichlamydia IgG antibodies, would you have omitted that finding from the report you submitted to this court?’

  There was shuffling from the lawyers’ tables on the right of the court but before either Bartle or Wolfson could rise, Pullinger impatiently made a waving down motion with his hand.

  The venerealogist still did not answer and Beckwith said, ‘Dr Abrahams?’

  ‘As we have already established, there is no formularized style of presentation.’

  ‘That wasn’t my question, doctor. Please answer it.’

  ‘No. Of course I would have included it in my report.’

  ‘Why?’

  Abrahams’ irritation at the question came out in a snort, which he tried to turn into a cough, looking directly from the witness stand at Dr Chapman. ‘Because the whole purpose of such reports is to establish whether or not there is – or has been – an infection!’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Beckwith, abruptly sitting.

  And said it again to the judge’s invitation to continue his submission when the court reconvened after the luncheon adjournment that Pullinger ordered at the conclusion of Abrahams’ evidence, with the agreement that the venerealogist should be released to return to New York.

  ‘Your honour!’ interrupted Bartle, jerking to his feet. ‘I would once more respectfully invite your honour to accept, with the apologies I have already expressed and would reiterate, my explanation for this most unfortunate misunderstanding, this oversight, and not further delay the progress of this case by calling Dr Chapman.’

  ‘An application that I also most earnestly request with Dr Lewell,’ said Wolfson, bobbing up as Bartle sat, as if both lawyers were performing vaudeville, if not theatre.

  ‘Why “most earnestly”, Mr Wolfson?’ demanded Pullinger.

  Leanne’s lawyer looked blankly to the raised bench, initially appearing not to understand the question. The confusion increased when he did understand. ‘I meant … maybe a mistake on my part, your honour. I meant my client and I are anxious not to impede the progress of the court now that this medical difficulty has been resolved.’

  ‘I do not for a moment find that what you refer to as “this medical difficulty” has been resolved to my satisfaction,’ refused Pullinger. ‘Having been found – exposed – to be so lamentably wanting, are you, Mr Wolfson, or you, Mr Bartle, seeking to bulldoze this court to bury those failings?’

  Both Bartle and Wolfson were standing now and their replies – ‘under no circumstance whatsoever, your honour’ – came practically in unison. Beside him Beckwith created another battalion of exclamation marks on his yellow legal pad, taking Jordan’s mind back to their adjournment lunch in the court cafeteria, at which Alyce, her doctor and Reid had not appeared. To Jordan’s insistence there, a euphoric Beckwith had gauged the chances of getting his dismissal at seventy-five percent. So surprised had Jordan been by the estimate that his initial, unconsidered thought had been that if he were discharged he could, within days, be back in England, the nightmare relegated to the place of bad dreams. Until a question hurried him back to reality. What, he asked himself, about Alfred Jerome Appleton and the personal promise he’d made to himself: what Alyce had in France called tit for tat? The fact that if he were discharged he wouldn’t be penalized for hundreds of thousands – millions even – didn’t come into any calculation. The bill would still be huge, here in America and in England. And he didn’t intend spending as little as a single bent penny of his own money in payment or settlement for anything. Appleton would, though. Jordan was more implacably determined than ever to recover everything and more – far more – for the upheaval the man had caused. So he wouldn’t be returning to London whatever the outcome of today’s hearing. Only when Alyce abruptly turned towards him did Jordan realize that throughout his reflection he had been looking at her. She frowned, questioningly. Jordan looked hurriedly away.

  ‘I hope I can be convinced of that,’ Pullinger was saying. nodding again to Beckwith to resume.

  Dr Mark Chapman came reluctantly to the stand and took the oath looking fixedly at Appleton and his lawyer, not averting his gaze until Pullinger stated, for the record, that the doctor had been called to give evidence upon the application of a defendant lawyer.

  ‘Dr Chapman,’ began Beckwith, at Pullinger’s indication, ‘will you give, again for the benefit of the record and in full, not by acronym, your medical qualifications?’

  Chapman’s hesitation lasted so long that Jordan briefly thought the man was going to refuse, but finally Chapman responded, with clipped, stilted formality, the faintest trace of an Irish accent in his voice.

  ‘In addition to those qualifications, you also contribute to medical journals upon subjects within your chosen expertise, do you not?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Regularly?’

  ‘No.’

  From the way Beckwith was standing Jordan could see the faint smile on his lawyer’s face and guessed Beckwith had reached the same conclusion that he had, that the venerealogist intended to remain monosyllabic.

  ‘How many artic
les have you been responsible for in, say, the last five years?’

  Chapman thought before replying. ‘Six.’

  ‘To the admiration of your peers? Dr Abrahams, for example?’

  From Bartle’s table there was movement that ceased at Pullinger’s quick look.

  ‘I do not know.’

  ‘You have not received letters of appreciation, congratulation, from other specialists in your field?’

  ‘Not from Dr Abrahams.’

  ‘But from others?’

  ‘Occasionally.’

  ‘As I made clear, I asked you to give your qualifications in full for the benefit of the court record. In assembling them for myself I discovered the possibility of you taking up a position as lecturing microbiologist at Boston’s leading teaching hospital, which would accord you the title of professor, would it not?’

  ‘The appointment has not yet been made.’

  ‘Were it to be made in your favour, Dr Chapman, would you include the diagnostic importance of antibodies and antigens in your lectures?’

  The man’s second hesitation was as long as the first. Eventually Chapman said, ‘Of course I would!’

  ‘Of course you would,’ echoed Beckwith. ‘Because as we have heard in very informative detail from Dr Abrahams, the discovery or otherwise of antibodies and/or antigens is a very necessary part of the investigation into infections and disease, either bacterial or viral, are they not?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why then, doctor, didn’t you include your discovery of antichlamydia IgG in your examination of Alfred Appleton, the purpose of which was to establish whether Alfred Appleton had suffered, or was suffering, a chlamydia infection?’

  ‘I was responding to the instructions with which I had been served,’ said Chapman, with the quickness that hinted at prior preparation.

  Now it was Beckwith who let the silence build into a mocking echo. ‘You were responding to the instructions with which you had been served?’

  ‘Yes.’ Chapman’s concentration was again on Bartle.

  ‘Which were?’ persisted Beckwith.

  Chapman had both hands gripping the side of the witness stand, as if he physically needed its support and his face was markedly flushed compared to his complexion when he’d first entered it. Formally, his voice fluctuating, he recited, ‘To examine Alfred Appleton and carry out various recognized tests to establish whether Alfred Appleton was suffering a venereal infection, specifically chlamydia. At the time of my examination, he was not. That is what I said in my report.’

  ‘Your original report,’ qualified Beckwith.

  ‘My original report,’ agreed the venerealogist.

  ‘At the time of that original report – during your investigative examination – you found antichlamydia IgG in Alfred Appleton’s blood, did you not?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Which proved that he had suffered such an infection and been treated for it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But you chose not to include that finding?’

  ‘I was following the remit that I had been given. At the time of my examination, Alfred Appleton did not have a venereal infection.’ The man continued staring fixedly at the table at which Appleton and his lawyer sat.

  ‘Your honour!’ broke in Bartle, groping to his feet. ‘Can I help by confirming what Dr Chapman is telling the court? The remit to which Dr Chapman is referring was mine.’

  ‘Knowing of its relevance in the case before us, you did not ask Dr Chapman to provide evidence of your client having an infection in the past, only if he suffered it at the time of examination?’ demanded the judge, making no effort to keep the incredulity from his voice.

  ‘That is so, your honour,’ confirmed Bartle. ‘The fault, the oversight, is mine, not that of Dr Chapman. And I humbly apologize.’

  ‘I think, Mr Bartle, that this is something about which I have to reflect further.’ Turning to the other side of the court Pullinger said, I think you have established your point, Mr Beckwith.’

  ‘With respect, your honour, I have a few more questions.’

  A frown flickered across the judge’s face. ‘Let’s move along, Mr Beckwith.’

  ‘Dr Chapman,’ resumed the lawyer. ‘Studying as I have your professional qualifications, I noticed also that you attended Harvard, as did Alfred Appleton? You were contemporaries, in fact?’

  ‘Yes.’ There was a fresh tightening to Chapman’s face.

  ‘Did you know Mr Appleton at Harvard?’

  ‘We were acquainted.’

  ‘How were you acquainted?’

  ‘We shared a mutual interest.’

  ‘In sailing?’ queried Beckwith.

  ‘Which I’m sure you already knew,’ flared the other man, giving way at last to anger.

  ‘I did indeed, Dr Chapman. But the court didn’t until now. Have you continued to sail with Mr Appleton?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So how would you describe yourself? As an acquaintance or as a friend?’

  There was yet another pause before the man said, ‘As a friend, I suppose.’ The voice was quieter, controlled again.

  ‘Did you attend your friend’s marriage, to Alyce Bellamy?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘How would you describe Alyce Appleton, nee Bellamy, as an acquaintance or as a friend?’

  ‘Your honour!’ protested Bartle.

  ‘I agree,’ said Pullinger. ‘I think you have extended this examination sufficiently, Mr Beckwith. Is it your intention to call Dr Lewell?’

  ‘It most definitely is, your honour.’

  ‘I shall permit it, on the grounds of fairness, but not with the same latitude as I have with this witness. Is that clear?’

  ‘Very clear,’ said Beckwith.

  ‘Then I don’t expect the need to remind you.’

  Dr Jane Lewell’s qualifications were not as extensive as those of either George Abrahams or Mark Chapman, but did include those of microbiology and gynaecology. She was a tall, thin woman, her face dominated by heavy, thick-rimmed spectacles. There appeared little attempt at make-up, nor to colour the greyness in her hair which she wore very short, cropped to the nape of her neck. Jordan’s immediate impression, when she began responding to his lawyer’s questions in a flat although confident voice, was that she was setting out to be as monosyllabic as the specialist doctor who had preceded her. It was quickly confirmed in a series of staccato, yes or no answers, despite Beckwith adjusting his questions to achieve fuller responses. Pullinger’s mounting impatience came to its head after she agreed that Leanne Jefferies had suffered a chlamydia infection with Peter Wolfson’s interrupting admission that her first, inadequate report had been a strictly accurate diagnosis according to his limited remit.

  ‘So there we have it!’ insisted Pullinger. ‘Both expert witnesses adhered to the very strictest letter of their legally permissible instructions – instructions that remain very much in the forefront of my mind – that had their evidence been presented in its original form could have seriously misled myself and a subsequent jury, but for the intervention of Mr Beckwith. It is now established for the benefit of subsequent proceedings that both Alfred Appleton and Leanne Jefferies suffered a venereal infection. Is this matter now concluded to your satisfaction, Mr Beckwith? It most certainty is to mine.’

  ‘With respect, your honour, I have questions to this witness that will occupy no more than five further minutes.’

  ‘Which I will time to the precise second,’ said the judge.

  ‘The domicile of Ms Leanne Jefferies is 3200, East 106th Street, apartment 38b, Manhattan, is it not?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Are you Ms Leanne Jefferies’ gynaecologist?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Had she been a patient of yours prior to her coming to you for the examination we are discussing today?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘According to what has been indicated here today, it was Peter Wolfson, her attorney, who made the appointment, with
its very specific remit, for Leanne Jefferies to be examined by you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Until this occasion, has Peter Wolfson had clients examined by you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Did you not think it strange that a woman domiciled in Manhattan should be asked to travel all the way to Boston for an examination for which there are …’ Reverting to theatrics, Beckwith consulted papers on the table in front of him. ‘There are to my rough calculation twenty consultants with qualifications matching yours within thirty minutes, even allowing for the worst traffic?’

  For the first time the woman lapsed into the previously familiar hesitations. Finally she said, ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did you ask her?’

  ‘Your time is rapidly running out, Mr Beckwith,’ warned the judge.

  ‘Dr Lewell?’ hurried Beckwith.

  ‘No, I did not ask her.’

  ‘How friendly, professionally or otherwise, are you with Dr Chapman?’

  ‘You will answer that question and that will be the end of your examination,’ ordered Pullinger.

  ‘We are friends, professionally and socially,’ said the woman.

  Twenty-Three

  The chambers of Judge Hubert Pullinger were as frigidly austere as the man himself, wallpapered practically from floor to ceiling with legal books, each precisely in its regulated, indexed place, scribbled notes in the centre of an otherwise unmarked blotter, pens in a regimented holder beside a telephone console. The chesterfield, with matching chairs, was in red oxhide and unoccupied because Pullinger kept the four lawyers standing before him, his attention totally concentrated upon David Bartle and Peter Wolfson. The only physical indication of Pullinger’s fury was the involuntary tap of an index finger, as if he were keeping occasional time with the sticky tick of the mahogany-cased grandfather clock creating the sole sound in the room, apart from the asthmatic rasp of Reid’s breathing.

  The judge still wore his robes and when he finally spoke, eyes now lowered over his prepared notes, the tightly controlled voice was so quiet that at first, until they adjusted, both Bartle and Reid strained forward to hear properly.