by Silver Abi
“So, you don’t want the expert?”
“No, Your Honour, we don’t.”
“Miss Burton. How long will it take do you think to locate a suitable expert?”
“I have someone in mind already, Your Honour, the issue will simply be availability, but we may be able to proceed in the morning, if we were to rise now this afternoon.”
Judge Blake coughed once, sniffed and shifted his position in his seat.
“Very well. Mr Arkwright, I agree with Miss Burton. We shall begin at 8.30 tomorrow morning and I shall sit late if need be until this matter is resolved, which should keep us on track to complete matters this week. As soon as you know the name of your agreed expert, please send it to me, together with a résumé. I will consider matters in the round after hearing from the expert. We should stand Mr Maynard down for now, Miss Burton, but he remains under oath and I remind you of those constraints.”
“But Your Honour, leaving him in purdah, possibly overnight, it is unhelpful in the extreme.”
“Miss Burton, from what I have seen your client likes to talk in court but nowhere else, so it is unlikely to have any effect on him whatsoever. And you are the one who is challenging the software and insisting on the adjournment. There really is no choice. Tomorrow at 8.30 then.”
37
JUDITH WONDERED when Constance would return, as she wanted to see Raymond straight away, but ideally not on her own. She extracted her mobile from her top pocket and clicked to her texts. Nothing. She checked for a missed call but no one had tried to contact her. Reluctantly, she began her descent to the cells. She had just asked the officer on duty if she could see Raymond, when she heard a light step behind her which could only be Constance.
Constance took in Judith’s flushed and agitated countenance and frowned.
“Was it that bad? I saw something on Twitter on my way back,” she whispered, casting around to check for any eavesdroppers and Judith rolled her eyes only once before Raymond was paraded before them and taken into one of the small holding rooms, where he took a seat. Judith and Constance followed him inside and waited until the guard had left them alone. Judith groaned loudly and then she paced up and down the room, huffing and blowing, her gown billowing out behind her like a plume of smoke. Constance allowed her to do this three or four times before intervening.
“Judith?” She spoke calmly, despite her concern. “I can see that you want to talk to Raymond but I need to speak to you, outside. I have something really important to tell you.”
Judith waved her away with a flick of the wrist and continued to pace. Constance was forced to withdraw and eventually sat down and stared quizzically at Raymond. She had an inkling that something had happened with Pinocchio in her absence but she had no clue what it was.
It was a further two minutes before Judith finally ground to a halt. She leaned back against the wall of the cell, a knowing smile on her lips which quickly faded. Then she stared at Constance, wondering how to manage all the fallout from what she was about to say. There was no choice, given the time constraints; she simply must take the plunge.
“Ray. Your performance this morning was excellent, inspiring even. I am not sure I can think of words which can quite encapsulate how wonderful it was.”
Ray smiled. “Thanks,” he muttered. He had procured some chewing gum from one of the guards and he inserted a piece into his mouth. Judith’s eyes widened and she raised one hand and lowered it again. Constance shuddered; she was unused to hearing Ray speak, let alone answer a direct question with a direct answer and this answer had matched the question for sarcasm.
“Yes, first of all, I thought of the Oscars, but, no, your routine is far too subtle for that. Much more a Palme d’Or. More that sort of thing.”
Constance’s eyes moved from Judith to Ray to Judith again.
“What’s going on?” she asked with some concern. “And Judith, I have to remind you that you, we, must not discuss the case with Ray whilst he’s in the middle of giving his evidence.”
Judith beat her hand twice against the bars of the cell.
“Thank you, Constance. I am aware of the conduct rules which bind me. At the moment, I am more concerned that I will break the criminal law.”
Ray said nothing. He just rolled his gum around his mouth and sat surprisingly erect. Judith fixed him with her gaze again.
“But then, well things went a little downhill this afternoon, didn’t they?”
Ray remained silent.
“Ah. You’re not willing to tell Connie, so I suppose it is incumbent upon me. Connie, Pinocchio has already judged Raymond on the story so far. A little ruse of Arkwright’s which I had failed to anticipate. And guess what? It says he is a big fat liar.”
Constance nodded slowly, drawing her coat around her shoulders. Now things were starting to make a little sense. The tweet she had read had suggested that Pinocchio had yielded some unexpected results.
“No, no, it gets better, or perhaps I should say worse, depending on whether you are on our side or theirs, that is. Because, according to Pinocchio, everything is a lie: his name, his age, the school he attended previously.”
Constance was bewildered. How could that possibly be right?
“Well, so you pointed this out to the judge, didn’t you?” she asked tentatively.
Judith just managed to control her temper.
“Yes, Constance, and if you had been there instead of wherever on earth you’ve been all day, you would have seen it.”
Constance swallowed. Judith was often brusque but had never been so obviously unfair before.
“So there must be a problem with the software?” she ventured.
“You try to tell the judge that. He thinks it’s just fine. No doubt he is wondering whether, if he ditches Pinocchio, his knighthood will be similarly despatched to the dustbin.”
“No?”
“Well, he has adjourned overnight, reluctantly, to check on the programme but who knows where that will lead. But we have one last chance, I think. I have manufactured an expert to come forward, so we can try to expose the limitations of the machine once and for all. I have someone in mind myself; the obvious choice. And at least bought us a little more time, as you requested.”
“Well that’s great. Well done. So, they’ll admit the machine isn’t functioning properly and we’ll be home and dry.”
Judith laughed low, her voice cracking under the strain. How could she tell Constance, her eager and trusting companion, that the very solution she was proposing might be her own undoing? Or that she had had a chance once to obliterate Pinocchio and she had failed because of her own weaknesses.
“That was my original thought, too. But now I realise that I was wrong,” she managed. “If only that were the case.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, if only the software was malfunctioning.”
“But how can it be working if it said Ray was lying the whole time, even when he said his name?”
Judith beat one hand rhythmically on the wall of the cell.
“Tell her, Ray. Tell her that the software is working fine. That it’s you, you’re the one who isn’t working properly. Oh, it took me so long to work it out, but I can see it now. The first step was the mirror. I hate to say that it took me until the break today to work out that you were not interested in your appearance per se, but in your own facial expressions. I am really slipping.
“But it’s only just now, in this godforsaken room, that I have worked out what your game really is. What I need to know now, however, is why you are doing it?”
Ray shrugged once and continued to stare blankly at Judith. Judith grimaced, maddened by her inability to obtain a response. Ray opened his mouth for a moment and then closed it again. Judith approached him slowly, her voice softer but with more than a hint of the derision she could not repress.
“Of course, once Pinocchio began to opine, I came up with the obvious, that you killed Mr Davis and you were lying to cove
r it up; you wanted the mirror to help you lie convincingly. But it isn’t that. That’s too basic, too primitive for you. That would not present you with any challenge. And you are a boy who likes challenges, we’ve heard that.
“And that’s why you never spoke to us. You didn’t want to give anything away. I suppose I should be flattered. But now I am beginning to see you properly, to know you, to think like you. Is it so that you can show you are cleverer than everyone else, is that it? If so, we all know you are clever, but this is really not the time to show it.”
Constance was still looking blankly at the two of them and whilst Judith was wobbling from one foot to the other, barely controlling her temper. Ray remained perfectly still.
“Connie doesn’t get it, because, you see, she is not as familiar with Pinocchio as I am. And she’s not an old cynic like me. So, let’s try one for Connie, shall we? Don’t panic, Connie, it will not be a discussion of Ray’s evidence. Here we go then. Ray, how old are you?”
Ray removed his chewing gum and rolled it between the fingers of one hand. He puffed out his cheeks.
“Sixteen,” he said. As he spoke, his right eyebrow twitched dead centre, just once. It was all over in microseconds.
“Now let’s try it again, the truth this time. Ray, how old are you?”
Ray grinned at the two women, conceitedly. Then he rearranged his face into a serious expression.
“Sixteen,” he repeated, this time his face remaining absolutely still, except for his mouth which opened and closed.
Judith huffed and then turned to Constance.
“Connie. Did you see it? Tell me you saw it?”
Constance shook her head and stared at Judith as if she had lost her mind.
“You know what? You couldn’t have seen it, not if you didn’t know what you were looking for. You’d have had to film it and slow it down, 10 maybe 20, or even 100 times.”
Finally, the beginning of what Judith was trying to express was dawning on Constance.
“What, you are saying that Ray is doing something with his face?”
“Yes, that is exactly what I am saying and, if I am not mistaken, what Ray is doing. Something very tiny and strange and jarring and unnatural, every time he answers a question. And what he is doing will turn a truthful answer to a lie and vice versa. ‘Now you see it, now you don’t.’ But why? Why would you do that? That’s what I can’t fathom out.”
Ray shrugged a second time.
“For God’s sake Ray, what kind of shrug was that? A real one or a lie?” Judith paced the room furiously once more, her eyes wide, her nostrils flaring. She was muttering, “Think, think, think,” under her breath. She paused and once more approached him.
“You think Pinocchio is not a valid way of detecting truth, am I right?”
“Well, you think that too. You tried to stop the judge using it.” Ray’s voice was surprisingly light and youthful, reminding them suddenly that he was only a boy.
“Yes, I did,” Judith replied.
“So, there you are then.” Ray remained calm but now his voice had a harder edge.
“What, what is it?” Constance was still finding it hard to follow.
“You should be pleased with what I’m doing. I’m doing your job for you,” he explained.
“I can’t believe this,” Judith whispered.
“Can someone please tell me what is going on?”
“Oh Connie.” Judith sat down heavily and covered her face with her hand. “Ray is trying to fool Pinocchio, though God knows why. When did you plan all this? It took me months to pick up the cues.”
Ray was silent now and Connie stared from him to Judith.
“Let me get things straight,” she began. “Ray is trying to make it look like he’s lying, when giving his testimony, even when he’s telling the truth.”
“That’s right, isn’t it, Ray?”
“Mm.”
“But why?”
“Tell her, Ray. Tell us both. Put us out of our misery.”
Ray reached down and stuck his chewing gum beneath the table. Judith winced.
“It’s what I do,” he replied simply.
“What do you mean ‘it’s what I do’? Don’t speak in riddles. You owe us more than that.”
Ray leaned his elbows on the table. “Well, I thought it was obvious. I read about Pinocchio, the software, the algorithms which run it. They said it was 100% right, that some amazing brain developed it. And they were so sure it worked for everyone. I wanted to test it out and I got the perfect opportunity. Then I decided that even if they sent me to prison I would show them it doesn’t work – not for weirdos anyway.”
“Oh Ray, don’t use that term. It’s so pejorative.”
“That’s what you meant though, when you asked the judge to disallow it. And that’s what they call me, even in the newspapers; different school, same name.”
Judith gasped out a mixture of sympathy and exasperation.
“But don’t you see, if we don’t get the software thrown out, if Pinocchio says you are lying the judge will convict you, the jury will convict you and no one will be interested in the details.”
“No. You’re wrong. I was found at the scene covered in blood, Pinocchio isn’t what’s going to convict me. You know that. If you are as good as you say you are, then you will find a way of showing the judge I didn’t do this, whatever Pinocchio says. If, at the same time, I expose Pinocchio as a fraud then I will have succeeded too.”
“Ray. How could you have done this?” Judith attempted a further appeal. “Perhaps I could suggest you give your evidence again, tomorrow. At least if your testimony in court appears truthful the judge may have second thoughts or shorten things.”
“Shorten things? You mean what, 10 years instead of life? Do you remember what you said when you first came to see me?”
“No, well, I introduced myself. You said very little as I recall.”
“Yes, and you told me that you were going to get me out of here.”
“Yes, I did.”
“Well, I am relying on you to keep your promise. You do your job and I will do mine.”
38
SO YOU finally worked it out. Well done, Judith. Too late to stop me, of course, but not too late to have your own moment of glory, if you are really up to the challenge.
I didn’t think you would be quite so cross. I thought you would see the funny side; you and Constance working day and night to show I am telling the truth, whilst I turn all my energies to showing that I am lying. And I thought you might just be a tiny bit impressed. After all, to get a 100% result – “perfection in deception” – involved a huge amount of skill and effort. I even doubted myself, for a moment or two, out there.
And Constance, I haven’t forgotten you. You also have something crucial to do now. I have led you to the water, but the rest is up to you.
Perhaps the person I should have most admiration for in this whole process is my mother. She found you, after all, unaided. That was commendable. My poor, beleaguered mother, who pretended it was hard to see me leave home. At least she did pretend, she tried to make me think that I was missed. In reality, she was relieved, relieved that she would not be faced with a thousand requests to explain mundane concepts and a bedroom she was forbidden from entering.
So, now we enter the final phase. And now things move almost, but not entirely, out of my hands.
39
GREGORY WINTER entered the courtroom at 8.30 the next morning, marching smartly past the lawyers and mounting the steps to the witness box in one stride. Gone were the chinos and Swatch, replaced with a dark, fitted, single-breasted suit and classy Omega.
Judith’s research of the night before, although hasty, had been reasonably fruitful. Greg had licensed the use of Pinocchio to the Government, in order to permit its use in court, and, as the learned judge had reminded everyone, after a short, hurried pilot scheme it was to be rolled out countrywide. Greg had sold 49% of his stake for a reputed £15 millio
n a couple of years back, retaining a controlling shareholding. He had given a wonderful interview in Esquire magazine, which Judith had devoured at top speed, in which he had mentioned that the FBI were interested in Pinocchio too. Judith had laughed out loud.
And then she had sat tight and waited for the call from Arkwright, which came earlier than expected, around 9pm, informing her he had selected “Dr Gregory Winter” as the most suitable expert, despite his stated reservations, confirming that Dr Winter was happy to assist and asking for her agreement.
Constance remained absent. She had rushed off after the confrontation with Ray the night before and had texted Judith again this morning to say she would be back before lunch. Judith had remembered, in the early hours when she lay awake, that Constance had wanted to impart something important to her. But of course she had been preoccupied with Ray’s antics and then her thoughts had turned to Greg. It was too late now. It would have to wait.
“Can you state your name please,” Judith stood up stiffly and addressed the expert witness.
“Gregory Mortimer Winter.”
Judith started. “Mortimer”? What kind of name was that? That was a very un-Greg kind of name.
“And your qualification?”
“I have a PhD in advanced psychology and an MBA. I was also recently awarded an honorary degree from Harvard University in the United States.”
Judith’s nose twitched. She had known Greg called himself “Dr” but she had never analysed the reasons for this; in fact, now she reflected on it, she had thought it an affectation. She had never imagined he had any real academic prowess.
“Dr Winter, can you explain to the court, please, your connection to the Pinocchio truth verification software programme?”
“Yes. My company, Geppetto Inc., owns the rights to the software.” His delivery was different too, lighter in tone, more relaxed but imbuing confidence. Perhaps that was what came with running a big, successful business.
“Thank you. And Geppetto Inc. is a British company?”
“No, a US company. We took the name for, well, for obvious reasons.”
