by Patty Jansen
Clovis’ tourist groups were always very small. What was different about this one was that both men had opposing interests not just on Earth but also in Barresh. Robert bought blue diamonds from the restless and disenfranchised Pengali youths who found themselves on the edges of the Thousand Island tribe. Gusamo was interested in the tribe’s customs and taught the respected youths in the tribe to surf.
The tribespeople did not agree with Robert buying the diamonds, and didn’t understand it because, according to their values, the stones lost their significance once taken out of the land where they belonged. But to them, this was an annoyance more than a point of conflict. Their main problem with Robert was that he drew the inquisitive youths from the tribe and led them down a path that the tribe considered harmful.
There was no evidence that Robert and Gusamo had ever clashed about this subject, although they had heated discussions about other things. But since only the two of them had been on the trip—Clovis had taken off because he found Robert annoying and rude—no one was left to recount what had happened in those days that the two men spent on the island.
Earlier in the hearing, Robert had apparently made a statement that Gusamo had “gone aggro” on him and had left the camp on the island’s eastern beach, and that was the last he had seen of him. Abri said that Gusamo had camped on the western side of the island for five to ten days.
As we had also seen, the beach on the western side of the island was not all that far from the one on the eastern side, both being on either side of a fairly narrow peninsula.
According to Pengali trackers, Gusamo had barely moved from this area in that time. There was a fresh water spring at the far end of the beach, but he had not even made it to that point. Abri said that it was hard for him not to have known about the spring, because the stream trickled over the beach to the ocean and it always left trails, so she concluded that he had been ill or injured at that time.
He had written a note, put it in a jar and thrown it in the water.
Then he had waited.
The easiest way of accessing the western beach when coming from the eastern side was by boat, because the peninsula was rocky and rough, and the dense forest made it hard to climb the ridge.
Abri said that the tribe’s trackers had found evidence that a boat had come to the western beach and that the only boat of that type in the area was Robert’s dinghy.
Robert had claimed that he did visit the beach, because he’d become worried about Gusamo, but he found no one there.
Dr Cross doubted that, because Robert had never told the investigators about this visit to the beach and he would certainly have remembered it.
It was the prosecution’s case that Robert had gone to the western beach, found Gusamo there, killed him and dumped the body in the sea.
I had discovered Gusamo’s note in the bottle three or four days later, the Exchange had contacted me that Fiona Davidson was worried that her husband was missing three days after that, and Melissa Heyworth had gone to check on the island where a satellite image showed the boat on the beach.
By this time Robert had gone crazy trying to defend himself, because he knew he was in trouble.
When Melissa and her party arrived on the island, Robert had taken her hostage, afraid that she was a pawn of gamra’s—or so he said. Exactly what he was afraid of, Melissa had been unable to determine. Robert had seemed “unhinged”.
Melissa had not witnessed the killing of the Pengali trackers she had brought, and Robert’s statement said that they had been killed by the Thousand Island people, because they were Washing Stones tribe Pengali.
Abri vehemently denied this.
The angry sound of her voice made Idda stir under Kita’s jacket. Dr Cross looked at the wriggling bump a couple of times as if he wanted to say, No pets in the courtroom.
Robert’s statement also said that he assumed that, lacking food and the skills to hunt or fish, Gusamo had tried to swim to the shore, where he had been attacked by the beisili—swimming lizards that looked like plesiosaurs—who were not friendly during the mating season. We’d seen them toss his body around and I could wholeheartedly attest to that not friendly part.
When we were at this point, I made a remark that I thought that the case that Robert killed Gusamo was not convincing. He might have died trying to swim to safety.
Dr Cross gave me a sharp look.
“I was there,” I said. “I saw the beisili toss the body around. Who’s to say that Gusamo didn’t drown?”
“Mr Sahardjo would still have been fleeing Mr Davidson, because if Mr Sahardjo hadn’t been afraid of Mr Davidson, they would have stayed together and gone for help.”
“Do you think that will be strong enough to convict him, though?”
“We will leave that for the judges to decide.”
In other words: shut up, Mr Wilson.
He went step by step over what had happened, what Abri had seen and what she hadn’t seen; and he repeated himself two or three times to the point where Abri was clearly getting annoyed.
She vented to me during the morning break, which was served in a little room a bit further down the hallway, where I could hear the sound of the drums and many people talking and singing.
Abri said, “I try to tell him, and then he asks again, and I tell him and he asks again. I’m not stupid.”
By now, Idda was no longer happy to stay under her mother’s jacket. She ate from the cakes provided by the catering staff, but the cake had sticky coconut icing which ended up all over her and the surrounding part of the carpet. Idda grew upset about her sticky hands, and possibly a little agitated because of all the sugar in the cake and the attention she was getting. She raced around the room like a wind-up toy gone mad.
I grabbed her by the back of the shirt. “Idda, Idda, calm down.”
She gave me an indignant look, while dangling in her shirt.
I gave her to Kita. “Do make sure that she keeps calm.”
I was never sure if Kita understood me. In this case, she seemed happy to pretend that she didn’t.
“Don’t understand,” she said in heavily accented Coldi. “They are not hearing our story at all.”
No. Dr Cross was rehearsing her to tell the story as he wanted it.
I felt embarrassed for them and about the entire process. Some time soon, either Abri or one of the others was going to remark on the lack of fairness, and there would be nothing I could do to help refute their claims.
When we went back, I asked Dr Cross about the extra tickets to the gallery that we needed, and not only did he pretend to have forgotten about them, he said the court could not possibly allow all of us in the room when so many other people also wanted to get in.
Idda had escaped from her mother’s jacket and had discovered that the display screen on the wall of the room could be turned on and off by tapping her tail against it.
Dr Cross glared at her several times. Once, Kita made an attempt to catch her daughter—in itself a rare occurrence—and she ran around the room squealing and almost upsetting the trolley with the water jug and glasses.
By now I was getting really annoyed. “So we’ve come all the way from Barresh and the court won’t let us into the room? I don’t think the Exchange will be happy with that.”
“This is our courtroom, Mr Wilson, and it is our law.”
“All right. Maybe I should walk out of here with your witness. In fact, I’m highly tempted to do that. I have nothing to gain or lose from this process and the witness is not bound by law to appear, because, as you pointed out, this is your law, and not hers. We are doing you a favour.”
He knew I was right. His mouth worked, but no matter how much he might have liked to say, We paid for your trip, he knew he couldn’t say that either, because the funding of the appearance of someone in the court should never be related to demands made of that witness.
He gave a stiff nod. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Notify the court that t
here will be someone in the audience recording the session, as outlined by your agreement with the Exchange.”
“Our protocol prohibits recording equipment.”
“Then I recommend that you speak to my legal experts who have assured me that the Nations of Earth agreement with the Exchange takes precedence over that requirement.”
“I will have to get advice on that.”
“Please do.”
He nodded, stiff faced. And all of a sudden, the tables were turned. He’d gone from his assured way of intimidating Abri to uncertain, stiff faced, defensive.
Ms Trnkova, seated next to him, kept looking at me.
Dr Cross said that he needed some time to check my demands, and he would do so this afternoon.
After he had left the room, Ms Trnkova informed me that this meant that this afternoon’s session would be delayed and Abri would not appear today.
“So we came here for nothing today?”
“You came here to give yourself a better position from which to present your information.”
Well, fuck that. “That’s one way of looking at it.”
“I’m sorry. I can get the driver to take you back to the hotel.”
“What would happen if we went out that door instead?” I pointed to the front entrance where the crowd still camped and talked and sang and held up their placards and flags.
“It’s locked.”
“But if we went out the back entrance and into the forecourt. What could all these people tell us that we should be sheltered from?”
“It’s for your protection. They might be violent.”
“They’re playing music. We have nothing that they want.”
She met my eyes. Her expression was disturbed.
“Why are those people actually there and why is it that every time I ask about them, the question is deflected?”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“You know what I mean.”
Her cheeks had gone red.
“Look, I will tell you a few things I should probably take to the police, but when Conrad Martens was killed, he was on his way to meet us. When he didn’t turn up, and at that point we had no idea why, we noticed that we were being followed. We managed to capture one of the followers’ jackets and we found a reader with some interesting information inside about how certain organisations are trying to manipulate us. The same organisations who tried, and failed, to manipulate the elections and the same organisations which apparently funded my trip here. Money I shall be repaying as soon as I get a chance. I would like to go on the record that I am not for sale for any kind of money.”
She gave me a startled look. “No, of course not.” And then she added in a low voice, “I worked for Mr Martens. I liked him. He was an honest man.” Her eyes glittered.
“Good. Don’t forget it. Now what are all those people doing there?”
A door clanged in the corridor and a man left a room and walked down the hallway, carrying a reader. Ms Trnkova glanced over her shoulder, nervously, with her flaxen blond hair fanning out when she turned her head. “I will accompany you to the hotel.” She spoke more loudly than necessary, perhaps to mask the fact that I’d asked her a sensitive question. She said nothing more.
We went down into the lift, where the van still waited.
With all of us, it was quite squishy in there.
All conversations in the van, of course, were recorded as well so on the short trip to the hotel we spoke about the weather. I was trying to think of a place where we could speak freely and in safety. I hoped that Veyada had cottoned on to my thoughts in that direction and had come up with a smart location that did not involve the bathroom, because goodness knew what sort of equipment Thayu or Nicha or Evi had left in there. Besides, it would be suspicious to see one’s legal officer in the bathroom. Questions would be asked and suspicions raised. From this point onward, everything we did would raise suspicions. Did one take a legal counsel for coffee? That might be an option.
At the hotel most people left the van. I gestured for Veyada to stay behind. Sensing that something was up, Evi stayed as well. Nicha came out of the hotel’s main entrance, but I sent him back inside to go to Ayshada, and to ask for Thayu to come down.
“I’d like to have a talk about how we continue from here,” I said to Ms Trnkova, for the benefit of the driver, who would no doubt report on any of our activities. “Can I buy you a drink?”
“Sure. I don’t think I’m expected back at the office. We’re done for today.”
“Let’s go then, after I drop off this gear.” I indicated my case with my reader.
Ms Trnkova went inside the hotel’s foyer with us. She looked over her shoulder to the van, which slowly drove off. Hesitated. The driver kept looking out the window. We waited, but he finally drove off.
Chapter 15
* * *
ONCE WE WERE in the foyer of the hotel, I had no intention of going to our rooms. I just wanted to get rid of that prying driver. Thayu and Nicha waited in the foyer and I gathered them, Evi, Veyada and Ms Trnkova around me.
They were full of questions, but I put my finger to my lips and glanced at the hallway. “Out this way.”
We went into the dining room, and from there into the courtyard and out the back gate. It led into an alley that came out in the next street. We walked in a group, collars drawn up against the wind.
It was only a short walk to the cafe we had visited on the first day. We walked in pairs or groups of three along the footpath. I kept an eye on the traffic, but didn’t see the van. I had no doubt that we were monitored, but at least I hoped it would be hard to hear exactly what we said in a busy cafe.
My feeder burst into life when we crossed the wide median strip of the street, with its energy and recycling station. The windmill turned lazily in the soft breeze.
When we came to the cafe, it seemed that a parents’ group had descended on the place. All the tables were occupied with young women and men with strollers and toddlers and babies. Well, that was a bugger. I looked over the room and couldn’t see a single unoccupied table, but then an elderly couple left when they spotted us standing near the door. The table had only two chairs, but we managed to drag a couple over. Veyada sat on a little table in the corner and Evi offered to wait outside to keep an eye on any of our followers.
I ordered coffee for all of us. Ms Trnkova was making eyes at my restriction-free card, so I ordered some pastries as well, just because I could, and she had probably used up her daily allocation of sugary food with the snacks supplied at the court this morning.
“You worked for Conrad Martens,” I started the conversation.
She sighed. “I did. I assisted him with his cases, as I do for Dr Cross. But I was assigned to the case by the judges, and I usually work for Dr. Martens.”
“What do you know about things that were going on with Conrad Martens behind the scenes?”
“He was disturbed. He said the fairness of the court was under threat. He . . .” Her eyes glistened. “I don’t know what I can say.”
“Is anyone directly threatening you?”
“Not me so much. I’m only an assistant and they don’t know that I was the one who found a lot of this information . . . I believe you might have received a letter.”
“Mr Martens sent me a letter, do you mean that one?”
“No, that’s not the one. Also, please call me Lenka.”
Wait. Was she talking about the letter Margarethe Ollund sent me?
She said nothing, didn’t confirm, didn’t deny it, but I knew that this was precisely what she was talking about.
She said in a low voice, “You were asked to see her.” Her being Margarethe, no doubt.
“I couldn’t. Or at least not without raising suspicion. Do you know anything about what she wanted to say?” I lowered my voice further. “This has to do with the Pretoria Cartel, right?”
The waitress came to bring our coffee and a plate of pastries. Veyada, Nicha and Thay
u each took one, reducing the size of the pile considerably. Veyada bit into one, spilling powdered sugar and pastry flakes over the table.
Lenka was a bit more civilised with hers, breaking off a piece and putting it in her mouth.
For a while, we ate and drank in silence.
All around us people talked and children laughed and cried. Just a normal day in a busy cafe. I hoped the noise meant that we couldn’t be overheard.
Then I said, “So what is actually going on?”
“I don’t even know where to begin.” Lenka looked at the cup clutched in her hands, her shoulders slumped. Her steely demeanour and business-like expression had melted while I watched. She still wore the same clothes but abruptly seemed like a completely different woman to me. Haunted, worried.
She took in a deep breath and sighed. “I might as well tell you what I know, even though the court officials told me not to. There is nothing more to lose for me. I might as well resign, because . . .” She shrugged and sighed again. “I thought it was exciting when I was asked to look after Mr Davidson’s case. I really did. This sort of thing was why I’d gone into law. To convict criminals.” She gave a wry smile. “For years, I did my time looking after court cases involving breaches of employment contracts by large companies. I won’t bore you with the details.”
“Veyada here is a lawyer. I guess he wouldn’t find it boring.”
She eyed him. Veyada’s appearance could be fairly intimidating to people who didn’t know him. He was tall and broad, even for a Coldi. He eyed her back. He was not supposed to speak Isla, but I was sure he understood precisely what I said.
“Everything about this case is wrong. You know, even what I just said is wrong. ‘The court told me not to tell you.’ That’s wrong. Nobody should tell court officials what to tell their clients unless it pertains to the court process, for example if the judge decides that people should not speak to each other until after the trial, in case knowing a certain thing will colour your witness account. That’s all they can tell you.” Her expression was hard.
