And Is There Honey Still For Tea? (34 page)

‘So, you are proposing that we abandon the case in an effort to deflect a prosecution? I take it you are not suggesting that James should offer to talk to the authorities?'

‘I do wish you would stop talking about me as if I am not here,' Digby protested, but without conviction. The others in the room ignored him.

‘No,' Barratt replied. ‘Without knowing what the Government's intentions are, that would be far too risky. I am proposing that we throw our hand in, but in very specific circumstances. I take it that the trial is still listed to begin tomorrow morning at 10.30?'

‘Yes.'

‘Then,' Barratt said, ‘I suggest that we abandon ship at 10.30 tomorrow morning, and not a moment before.'

‘I don't understand,' Herbert Harper said. ‘If we are ready to concede, surely it would be better for me to call Julia Cathermole without delay. Why …?'

Barratt did not reply. He smiled grimly in the direction of James Digby, who met his gaze for some seconds before turning away abruptly.

‘Am I mistaken, Barratt?' Digby asked slowly, deliberately avoiding Barratt's eyes. ‘Or am I hearing the gentle strains of the
Nunc Dimittis
?'

‘I have said as much as I want to say, James,' Barratt replied. ‘What you hear is a matter entirely for you.'

58

Tuesday, 12 October

‘I regret to say, My Lord, that I am unable to answer your Lordship's question.'

Bernard Wesley was standing before Mr Justice Melrose in the Silks' row in his courtroom at the Royal Courts of Justice. A notice attached to the outside door of the court informed the reader that the trial in the case of
Digby v Hollander, the Secretary of State for the Home Department Intervening
was taking place within, but that the trial was closed to the public, and that no one who was not involved in the case was permitted to enter. Despite the private setting, Mr Justice Melrose had ordered that robes be worn as usual. He was brightly arrayed in the red robes and white ermine of a judge of the Queen's Bench Division of the High Court. Ben Schroeder sat behind Wesley in the row reserved for junior counsel. Behind Ben sat Herbert Harper and Barratt Davis, wearing dark suits. To Wesley's left, Miles Overton sat, with Ginny Castle behind him and, behind Ginny, Julia Cathermole and Professor Hollander, wearing his usual academic uniform, a brown suit with a polka-dot bow tie. Between Ben and Ginny sat Evan Roberts, and behind him two dark-suited men, with official black briefcases bearing the Royal Coat of Arms on the floor at their feet. No one else was present except the Judge's associate, who acted as court clerk, and a court reporter.

Mr Justice Melrose had just asked Bernard Wesley why his client, Sir James Masefield Digby QC, was not present for the scheduled start of the trial at 10.30. It was a question to which Wesley had no answer of his own personal knowledge, and about which he was not prepared to speculate for the benefit of the court.

‘There is no reason known why Sir James is not present?'

‘There is no known reason, my Lord. I last saw Sir James yesterday morning, when we had our final consultation before trial. My learned junior and my instructing solicitors were present also. Sir James was, of course, well aware of the date and time fixed for the trial. My instructing solicitors have been in contact with the clerk at his chambers, and with his home address, but with no success.'

‘Are you applying for an adjournment for a short time to permit further inquiries to be made?'

‘No, my Lord.'

Mr Justice Melrose was visibly perplexed. Litigants and witnesses often ran late for a variety of reasons – they might be held up in traffic, they might have problems with public transport, occasionally they might be taken ill; the delays that resulted were frustrating but were an inevitable part of the life of any court, and the court would accommodate them to a reasonable extent. If, on the other hand, a party or witness deliberately absented himself from a trial, the court's attitude was necessarily very different, and the results were likely to be unpleasant. The judge had expected Bernard Wesley to ask for an adjournment, at least until later in the morning and, if further information came to light, perhaps until later in the day, or even the following day. The fact that Wesley made no such application could only mean that he did not expect Digby to attend, or had no reason to think that he would. But that did not make sense. It was an extraordinary situation. Hollander's article had made the gravest of allegations against Digby. Digby's action for libel had been his only possible remedy, and today was to be his day in court. The judge had the uncomfortable feeling that he was not being told the whole story. For a judge, that was a feeling which was not exactly unknown; indeed, it came with the territory. But this was an extraordinary case by any standards. He felt he had to make at least one more attempt.

‘Are you quite sure you do not want to make any application, Mr Wesley?' he asked, trying his best, not altogether convincingly, to sound menacing.

‘Quite sure, my Lord.'

Wesley sat down. The judge looked towards Miles Overton, who stood immediately.

‘Mr Overton, do you have any application?'

‘I do, my Lord,' he replied immediately. ‘As the Plaintiff has failed to appear to pursue his case at the time appointed for trial, and as your Lordship has been offered no prospect that he is likely to appear, I ask that the Statement of Claim be struck out and judgment given for the Defendant.'

Wesley stood.

‘I do not oppose the application, my Lord.'

To his own amazement, Mr Justice Melrose heard himself make an order in the terms Overton had proposed.

‘I further ask that the Plaintiff be ordered to pay the Defendant's costs,' Overton added.

‘I cannot resist that application,' Wesley replied.

The judge bowed to counsel and retired to his chambers to contemplate how odd life on the bench could sometimes be, and to reflect on the far less interesting case the list office would doubtless find for him now that the exotic case of
Digby v Hollander, the Secretary of State for the Home Department Intervening
had ended.

* * *

‘Thank you, Mr Overton, thank you, Miss Castle,' Hollander said, offering his hand to each in turn. ‘I will always be in your debt.'

They were standing, with Julia Cathermole, next to a large Gothic pillar in the hallway outside the courtroom.

‘Well, I'm not sure we really did very much,' Overton smiled. ‘You seem to have had – what is it you say in America? – all the bases covered.'

Hollander laughed. Julia thought he already looked five years younger, now that the weight of the case had dropped from his shoulders.

‘That was Julia,' he said, ‘and her friends in the intelligence services. Nothing to do with me. I came here with no evidence at all.'

‘But you always believed the evidence would come, didn't you?' Ginny asked. ‘Why was that? What gave you that confidence?'

Hollander shrugged.

‘I believed implicitly what Stepanov had told me. Look, I don't really know anything about intelligence work. But I have spent some time behind the Iron Curtain in connection with chess, and behind the Iron Curtain you just get a feeling for certain things. Stepanov was desperate to defect. I have had hints dropped on other occasions. It's not unusual when you are around Russians. So many of them want out. But it's always by innuendo – how beautiful they have heard America is; do you consider yourself fortunate to have been born in America? – that kind of thing; always indirect, nothing that could come back to haunt them.'

He leaned back against the pillar.

‘But not this guy. This guy drags me out of the tournament to some crummy bar, in God only knows what district of Varna – it reminded me of some joint on the South Side in Chicago, but without the glamour. That in itself was crazy. The Soviets had minders everywhere, as they do at every international event. Just talking to foreigners can get you into trouble unless there is a clear reason related to chess. Stepanov didn't care about any of that. Maybe he took steps to shake the minders off – I guess he must have done– but he got me on my own in a bar, and there was nothing indirect about it. This guy was not dealing in hints or innuendos.'

He paused for a moment, shaking his head.

‘He came right out and told me that his life was in danger and he wanted to defect. He explained why. He told me the whole story of his involvement with Digby, from day one, when he recruited him in The Hague. You didn't have to be an intelligence officer to know that he was deadly serious. He had not only come out and asked me whether I could help him to defect. He had entrusted me with almost everything he had to bargain with. I have to think that was because he knew the CIA would be interested and, in all honesty, I think he believed it was the only chance he had.'

‘And when Francis had duly delivered the message, the CIA didn't even have the decency to tell him that Stepanov was alive and free,' Julia added in disgust.

‘Baxter said there were security reasons for that,' Ginny said. ‘It does make sense.'

‘Until the operation had been carried out, absolutely,' Julia replied. ‘Of course, you wouldn't breathe a word until then. But once Stepanov was free, they could have told him. They wouldn't tell him where he was or what name he was using, obviously. There would be no question of Francis meeting Stepanov again. But to keep him in the dark – especially after Stepanov's death had been reported – there was no call for that.'

‘You assumed that the Russians had done him in, of course?' Overton asked. ‘You didn't believe the heart attack story for a moment, I imagine?'

Hollander shook his head.

‘It was one coincidence too many,' he replied. ‘That's what made me feel so badly about it and, I suppose, what put the idea for the article in my head.'

‘You felt the world should know?'

‘I was angry that Digby had got so many people killed, and now, for all I knew, he had added Stepanov to his list of victims. So I decided to put it out there.'

‘You always believed that the truth would come out, didn't you,' Julia asked, ‘despite everything?'

‘Yes. I knew you had contacts with the British intelligence services, and I had to believe that my article could not go unnoticed on both sides of the Atlantic. I didn't go into all the detail, of course. I didn't want to tip Digby off that I knew about the code with the chess board and pieces. I figured that might be a useful detail to come up with later.'

‘How right you were,' Overton smiled. ‘But apparently Viktor Stepanov beat you to it.'

‘Knowing he is alive is even better than winning the case,' Hollander said.

He looked at Julia for a few moments.

‘I suppose there really is no chance that I could …?'

She was shaking her head vigorously.

‘No. I guess not. I knew that. Well, I am glad it worked out for him.'

‘You knew that Digby wasn't going to appear this morning, didn't you?' Miles Overton asked suddenly.

‘Let's say I had a shrewd idea,' Hollander grinned.

‘He was never going to come to court,' Ginny said. ‘Not once he heard from Stepanov from beyond the grave.'

‘I told you,' Hollander said. ‘It was Oscar Wilde all over again. The only difference is that Digby saw what was coming and bailed out before it hit him. If it wasn't for that he would be playing chess in Reading Gaol pretty soon.'

‘As it is,' Ginny observed, ‘we will probably be hearing about his new life in Moscow after a decent interval.'

‘You can count on it,' Hollander said. ‘They will be running pictures of his press conference in the
Daily Mirror
in a few months from now.'

They stood in silence together for some time, and then shook hands again. Miles Overton and Ginny Castle turned to leave for the robing room. But Miles suddenly turned back.

‘What are your future plans, Professor Hollander?' he asked. ‘Do you intend to continue in academia, or have you set your sights on something more in the public eye, now that you have had a taste of the limelight? Your passion for the truth is unusual in this day and age. The American public would benefit from it.'

Hollander laughed.

‘Now that you mention it, Mr Overton,' he replied, ‘I have given some thought to politics. I have a few contacts in the Democratic Party. It has occurred to me that I might have a shot at running for Congress in a year or two. And I really think I would enjoy being Governor of my State somewhere down the road. I'm not sure whether I could make it, but …'

‘I wouldn't bet against you,' Ginny said.

59

When Ben arrived back in chambers, he dutifully reported to the clerks' room.

‘Thank you for coming back, Mr Schroeder,' Merlin said cheerfully. ‘But if I were you, sir, I would have yourself a nice long weekend, starting now. You have worked hard on this case, and I am sure the outcome has been a bit of a shock. You have earned it.'

‘Are you sure you don't need me?'

‘No, sir. If anything urgent comes up, I've got Mr Weston available. You can take that set of papers in your pigeon-hole with you in case you get bored. It's for next Monday morning, Inner London Sessions, three counts of burglary. Hopeless case by the look of it, but the solicitors say he is determined to fight it. Oh, and there's a letter for you in the pigeon-hole too, from Middle Temple. Enjoy your weekend, sir. I will see you next week.'

Ben gratefully accepted his senior clerk's advice. He collected his letter and brief and walked to the door.

‘Thank you, Merlin,' he said, turning to leave. On opening the door of the clerks' room, he almost collided with two men wearing uniforms bearing the Middle Temple coat of arms, one carrying a tall ladder. They were walking quickly towards the main door to chambers. One of them muttered an apology, but did not slow down at all. Ben turned back towards Merlin.

‘Who are they?' he asked.

Merlin shrugged. ‘They're from the Inn, sir, a Mr Whitehead, and I forget the other fellow's name. Something to do with pest control. Apparently they left some equipment here before when there was an infestation, and they just called to take it away.'

* * *

Ben made his way back to his flat in Canonbury. He opened the door and went into the living room, where Jess sat at the dining table. To her right were two glasses and a bottle of Chablis in an ice bucket. She leapt to her feet to hug and kiss him.

He smiled.

‘You seem to have been expecting me,' he said. ‘Obviously the news got through.'

‘Barratt called me to tell me what happened,' she replied. ‘He didn't have any plans for me, and I didn't think you would be doing any more work today, so I thought I would pick up a bottle of something nice and be here to welcome you. In the circumstances, it's not exactly a celebration, I suppose, but …'

He kissed her.

‘Thank you,' he said. He poured a glass for each of them, and they toasted each other.

He put his glass down on the table.

‘Actually, we do have something to celebrate.'

‘Oh?'

‘It's official.'

He had put his briefcase down by the door when he came in. He walked over to retrieve it, sat down at the table balancing it on his knee, opened it, and removed a letter with an envelope which had already been torn open. He handed it to Jess without a word. She sat next to him and read the letter. It was dated two days earlier and bore the distinctive crest of the Middle Temple, the
Agnus Dei
.

Dear Schroeder,

The Committee appointed to consider the circumstances of your relationship with Miss Jess Farrar has concluded that there is no evidence to suggest that any conduct is involved which would in any way constitute a breach of the Code of Conduct for the Bar. Nor does the Committee consider that any criticism can be made either of you or Miss Farrar. Accordingly, you may consider this matter closed.

Yours sincerely,

Master George Kenney

Committee Chairman

She shook her head. ‘Those arrogant …' she allowed her voice to trail away. ‘I don't want to consider the matter closed. I want to …'

He took her hand.

‘I know,' he said. ‘But we need to let it go.'

She nodded. ‘Yes,' she said.

‘I am sure Ginny has the same letter,' Ben said.

‘I'm glad for her, and for Michael,' Jess said.

She released his hand and looked down at the table.

‘Ben, I need to apologise to you,' she said quietly.

‘For what?'

‘For the way I've been treating you while this whole thing has been going on. I've been treating you as if this were all your fault. It's not, and it never has been. It's the fault of all those stupid old men who are still living in the eighteenth century. I made you feel bad because I tried to put you on the spot about what you would do if it went the wrong way. I shouldn't have done that. I'm really sorry.'

He took her hand again and leaned across to kiss her on the cheek.

‘It's all right,' he replied. ‘If anyone is to blame, I am. I know it sounded as if I expected you to give up your job with Barratt, and there is no reason why you should.'

‘There was every reason,' she replied. ‘The job with Bourne & Davis was never meant to be more than a break while I decided what to do with my life. I was wrong to compare it with your career at the Bar.'

‘But you took to it. You are even thinking of becoming a solicitor,' Ben pointed out.

She shook her head.

‘Not any more,' she said.

‘Oh?'

She refilled their glasses.

‘Yes, I've realised that's not what I want to do with my life. If this business with the Middle Temple had gone the wrong way, I would have left Bourne & Davis. Actually, I'm going to, anyway; not immediately, so don't say anything to Barratt, but it won't be too long.'

‘Really? Does that mean you have decided on a career?' he asked.

‘Yes,' she replied. ‘I'm going to read for the Bar.'

She watched Ben's utterly blank face for several seconds before clapping her hands together and laughing uproariously.

‘You should see your face,' she said affectionately. ‘It's a real picture.'

He was staring at her, expecting her to protest that she had been joking. She did not.

‘Are you serious?' he asked eventually.

‘Perfectly,' she replied. ‘I've spent quite a while following Barratt Davis around now and watching barristers in action, and I have concluded that, present company honourably excepted, I could do the job at least as well.'

She laughed again.

‘What's the matter? Afraid of the competition?'

‘No …,' he protested, joining in her laughter.

‘Well, you needn't worry. I wouldn't want to do crime. I want to do family law, or perhaps personal injury – something that allows me to help people in a crisis.'

He raised his glass.

‘I'll drink to that,' he said.

Her laughter suddenly drained away.

‘Ben, do you think I'm mad?' she asked. ‘Am I getting ideas above my station?'

‘No,' he replied firmly. He kissed her. ‘I think it's a wonderful idea. You must join Middle Temple, of course, even if it is populated by stupid old men from the eighteenth century.'

‘It will give us an excuse for having dinner together,' she pointed out.

They drank their wine companionably for some time.

‘Jess, there's something else I wanted to talk to you about,' he said.

She looked up inquiringly.

‘All this going to and fro from my place to yours, you going to and fro from yours to mine – it's starting to get a bit much.'

‘Yes, I know,' she replied.

‘So, what I was thinking was …' he hesitated, ‘if you are ready, we should look for a place together, somewhere bigger, where we will be comfortable. We could avoid all the travelling, we could spend more time together, and …'

She kissed him.

‘I am ready,' she replied simply.

They held each other without speaking for a long time.

‘Then, of course, we will have to face our next challenge,' she said.

He nodded.

‘Yes.'

‘Your family.'

‘Yes.' He paused. ‘Jess, I am sure they like you.'

‘They have met me twice,' she replied, ‘the first time during an emergency situation, when your grandfather had his heart attack and I drove you home from Huntingdon; the second time when I came home with you for a party. On those two occasions, it didn't matter that I'm not Jewish. But it will from now on.'

He kissed her again.

‘I promise you, Jess, I will not allow that to come between us.'

‘I know,' she replied. ‘But I don't want to be the cause of strife in your family, and I don't want to live on bad terms with them.'

‘You won't,' he promised. ‘I really don't think it will come to that.'

He paused and smiled.

‘We've dealt with the eighteenth-century old men at Middle Temple,' he replied. ‘We will deal with my family if we need to.'