The Queen v. Karl Mullen (11 page)

“What’s all this about?” said the policeman. “Well, well. If it isn’t old Ratty. I thought you’d died long ago.”

“Might have died this evening if you hadn’t turned up. Attempted mugging. Three of them. Maybe more. Had to defend ourselves.”

“Who’s your friend? Chris Woodray, isn’t it? You’re a nice pair to get into trouble, I must say.”

The man on the ground called attention to himself by trying to sit up and groaning.

“Looks like we shall need some transport,” said the policeman. Front doors were opening and a small crowd was collecting. “Soon as possible.” He was about to use his bat-phone when Ratter stopped him. He said, “We don’t want a squad car. We want a taxi.”

“You’re not pressing charges then?”

“Charges,” said the young man indignantly. He had managed to hoist himself onto one leg by clinging to the lamppost. “He hit me, not me him.”

“Are
you
making a charge?”

The young man was about to say, ‘Yes, I bloody am’, when discretion prevailed. He said, “No. Leave it alone.”

“In that case,” said the policeman patiently, “one of you kind people might ring for a taxi and then I suggest you go home. All of you.”

“For God’s sake,” said Captain Hartshorn. “What is this? Civil war? We’re not going to get very far if we start fighting each other.”

“I’ve had a word with young Jepson,” said Sesolo. “He’s a good boy, but apt to jump to conclusions. And this time, I’m not sure you can blame him. His orders were to watch the Katanga household and see no one tried to interfere with them. Right?”

“And just because this girl was black, I suppose they assumed she had something to do with Katanga.”

“Assuming didn’t come into it. They’d been watching the house, on and off, for a week. They knew all about Anna. She’s the household help.”

“They’re sure about that?”

“Certain sure. She’s a trim little piece. Very easy on the eye. Like all young men they’ve got minds like sewers and they naturally thought she might be something more than just a help about the house—”

“Never mind about that,” said Hartshorn. “What’s important is what she does on Saturdays and Sundays.”

“Seems likely she has her weekends off. Quite a normal arrangement.”

“Indeed,” said Hartshorn softly. “But what isn’t so normal is how she spends her Saturday mornings
before
she gets back to her father’s house in Tufnell Park.” He was handling the report, in Ratter’s laborious handwriting, that lay, with two photographs clipped to it, on his desk.

“You tell me,” said Sesolo. “What does she do?”

“It seems she has a date – a regular Saturday morning date – with Fischer Yule’s security outfit.”

Sesolo absorbed this information slowly. His mind did not work at the same speed as Andrew Mkeba’s. Andrew had been sitting quietly in the corner. Now he said, “It’s odder than you think, Boyo. We’ve identified the old man. He seems to be the girl’s father. He’s Professor Leon Macheli, from Maseru in Lesotho. He came over here after the December massacre. As a matter of fact, we’re already helping him. So you would hardly expect him – or his daughter – to have any sympathy for the South African establishment. Yet she trots off on Saturday mornings for a heart-to-heart chat with Yule. Which means that this interesting little piece has got a foot in both camps. So clearly she’s got to be watched. But we don’t want her watched by two different lots of our people, who start fighting as soon as they meet.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” said Hartshorn. It was like being back in his old job as Regimental Sergeant-Major. The most difficult job in the army, at the mid-point in the organisation, holding the balance between officers and other ranks. In the present case, he knew the value of Sesolo’s private army and did not want it discouraged.

He said, “I think, on the whole, we’ll sign off City Detectives. For the time being, at least. Give young—what’s his name—”

“Ronnie Jepson.”

“—give him a pat on the back from me and tell him that the information he’s given us about Anna was worth a knock or two. I gather he’s out and about again.”

“He’s back on his legs, yes.”

“Excellent. I’ve a feeling that the time is coming when he and his friends may be very useful indeed.”

“Number 27 on your register, sir,” said the Police Sergeant. “Karl Mullen.”

Mullen had spent the last hour sitting at the end of a bench in the Court anteroom, the other occupants of which appeared to be prostitutes, pimps and drunkards. He had been outraged by this treatment and saw no reason to hide the fact.

Nor was Mr. Lauderdale feeling at his best. He had come to Court early to prepare for the difficulties which he anticipated, and this had meant curtailing the quiet half-hour after breakfast which his doctor had prescribed. He looked with distaste at the crowded press benches and the overflow of the public at the back of the Court. Everyone had waited patiently while he dealt with his regular customers. Now, at last, they could see, in the flesh, the South African whose fingers had been so surprisingly trapped in the machinery of justice.

Rising quickly from his seat, Martin Bull said, “I appear for the defendant and my learned friend Mr. Lashmar appears for the prosecution.” He got this out a beat ahead of Lashmar, who had also stood up, evidently considering that he had the priority.

When Bull remained standing, the Magistrate shot a look of enquiry at him. Surely it was for the prosecution to begin?

“Before we start,” said Bull, “I have an application to make. It has no connection with the merits of the charge. It relates solely to the question of jurisdiction.”

Mr. Lauderdale said, “I have considered that question and it will have to be decided sooner or later. But should it not wait until a decision has been reached as to whether the evidence supports a committal or not? If my conclusion is that it does not, then the question of jurisdiction does not arise.”

“I feel,” said Bull, “and I am sure that I have my learned friend’s support, that unless we take the jurisdiction point first, a great deal of the Court’s time may be wasted.”

Lashmar nodded agreement. In fact, he was not ready for the hearing of the case.

“Oh, very well,” said Lauderdale testily, “if that’s what you both feel, perhaps you would enlighten me, Mr. Bull, as to why a properly constituted Court of this country is unable to hear what appears, on the face of it – I offer no opinion as to its validity – to be a very simple charge of attempted theft?”

“I must start, sir, by referring you to the Vienna Convention on Diplomatic Relations of 1961, which was incorporated into United Kingdom law by the Diplomatic Privileges Act of 1966.”

“You may assume,” said Mr. Lauderdale, “that I am not entirely unacquainted with these two measures.” He had studied them both for the first time that morning.

“Then if, as I trust I shall be able to do, I can demonstrate that the accused is, without question, a diplomatic agent, in the sense that this term is used both in the Convention
and
the Act, then might I draw your attention at once to Article 29 of the Convention. According to this Article, the person of a diplomatic agent is inviolable. He is not to be liable to any form of arrest or detention and the State that receives him is enjoined to take all appropriate steps—” here Bull spoke more slowly and with increased emphasis —“to prevent any attack on his person, his freedom or his dignity.”

His dignity, thought Roger. Save and preserve us! How can he be expected to be dignified sitting behind an iron railing on a bench recently vacated by a garrulous pimp? Or is he detached enough to reflect that what he is being subjected to now is a great deal less painful than what he has sometimes inflicted on people in his own country who had been charged with no offence at all. One look at Mullen’s face answered that question. He was not making any attempt to be detached. He was alight with hatred and frustration.

“It seems to me,” said Mr. Lauderdale, “that your whole submission can be expressed in half a dozen words.
Is Mullen a diplomatic agent or not?
If he is, I would concede, without the necessity of any further argument, that, under Article 29, he is immune from the criminal jurisdiction of this country.”

“I am obliged, sir. That is the precise point that I was approaching.”

Meaning, thought Roger, that we should get there much quicker if you didn’t keep interrupting.

“We are helped by the fact that the words are defined in the Convention. A diplomatic agent is either the head of a State’s Mission – this would normally mean the Ambassador
–
or
a member of the staff of that Mission having diplomatic rank. I therefore propose, first, to produce to the Court a written statement, signed by the Ambassador himself—”

It was observed that Lashmar was on his feet.

“In my submission, sir, this document cannot be considered by the Court.”

“On what grounds, Mr. Lashmar?”

“On the grounds laid down by the Lord Chief Justice in the case of the Romford Urban District Council against Walliker. Put quite shortly, a written statement will not be accepted by the Court if the person making that statement is available to give evidence in person.”

“Mr. Bull?”

“I agree that my learned friend has given us an accurate statement of the practice of the Court. The point is that, in this case, His Excellency is
not
available to give evidence.”

“You mean he is out of the country?”

“No, sir. I mean that he cannot give evidence in person. It would be an intolerable breach of protocol. His Excellency represents the government of South Africa. He could no more be expected to give evidence in an English Court than our own Queen could be expected to do so in a South African Court.”

Mr. Lauderdale considered this. He was aware that he was treading on dangerous ground. He decided to compromise. He said, “In view of what you say, Mr. Bull, and without endorsing its validity, I am agreeable to the document being read. I shall have to make my own mind up as to its evidential value when I have heard it.”

“I have copies for you and more for my learned friend. If I might ask the clerk to hand them in. Thank you. I need not trouble you with the first part, which simply establishes the position and authority of the Ambassador. It is the central paragraph which is relevant. He says, ‘In view of the many difficult problems which arise as a result of the activities of terrorists in this, as in many other countries, I felt that it would be of assistance to my Mission to have a man with experience in such matters to act as my adviser.’ With respect, that seems to me to dispose of the matter.”

“I must confess,” said Mr. Lauderdale, “that I should have been happier if His Excellency had been a little more specific as to the precise functions which he expected Mullen to carry out.”

“In that case,” said Bull, managing to look happier than he felt, “I propose to ask the accused to give evidence. It is true that he is not a compellable witness, but his immunity in the matter can be – and has been – waived. Mr. Mullen has expressed himself as glad to assist the Court in this matter.”

He didn’t look in the least glad, thought Roger, as Mullen removed himself from the dock to the witness-box, mumbled the oath and glared round the Court.

“Tell us first, Mr. Mullen, when did you arrive in this country?”

“On October 1st.”

“And what are your functions in this country? Would I be right in thinking that you have available, in your own files, background material about terrorists which would be useful to the authorities here?”

This was so clearly a leading question that the Magistrate shot a look at Lashmar. However, he seemed relaxed and indifferent.

“Certainly,” said Mullen. “I found that my files, in certain cases, were considerably fuller than those kept here.”

“It would, I think, be helpful if you could give us a specific example.”

“Very well. One matter in which I was concerned was the presence in this country of a citizen of Mozambique called Jack Katanga. A notorious terrorist, a stirrer-up of trouble in the Transvaal and a self-confessed murderer.”

The Magistrate, who had been studying his papers, said, “I don’t wish to embark on the substantive charge, but I can’t help noticing that one of the witnesses in that matter – in fact the principal witness – is named Katanga. Is that the man you are talking about?”

“If I might clarify the point,” said Bull. “He is the same person. He was in the shop, primarily, in order to sign copies of a book he had written, called
Death Underground.
Mr. Mullen was also there to purchase copies of it, since he felt it might be effective to change the mind of the authorities here, who had steadfastly refused to extradite Katanga.”

“Why should a book—?”

Before the Magistrate could complete his sentence Mullen interrupted him. He said, in a voice which frustration had raised to little short of a raucous shout, “Seeing that forty-two pages of this precious work are devoted to a detailed description of a cowardly murder which this man had committed we thought that the British authorities might conceivably agree that there was evidence of an extraditable crime having been committed.”

When he stopped speaking there was a moment of complete silence. Then the Magistrate, looking at Mullen over the top of his glasses, said, “Thank you,” and made a note.

Since everyone had been expecting an explosion this was curiously deflating.

“Please continue, Mr. Bull.”

“I have not much to add, sir. Tell me, Mr. Mullen, which of the many departments of the Embassy have you been mainly in touch with since you arrived?”

“With their Security Section, naturally.”

“At Axe Lane, in the City.”

“Yes. I am also lodging there. I am co-operating with the head of that section, Mr. Fischer Yule, in all cases known to us of persons in this country who are working against our State.”

Bull sat down, Mullen tried to leave the witness-box and was restrained by the clerk, who pointed out that Lashmar was on his feet.

He drawled, “A few points, Mr. Mullen. You have explained the nature of your job here. Might we look for a moment at your duties – your very important duties – in your own country. Is it correct that you – how shall I put it – keep an eye on people who do not support the current regime?”