The Queen v. Karl Mullen (26 page)

Roger had a taxi standing by in Mansion House Lane and as soon as the necessary formalities had been completed he installed Mullen in it and they were driven back to Dr. Johnson’s Buildings. Martin Bull, who had gone ahead, was waiting for them in de Morgan’s room.

“No trouble, I hope,” said de Morgan.

“Some mindless yapping from the crowd,” said Mullen. The dignity of the Court and the success of the bail application had gone far to restore his self-possess”Yes. I suppose we must expect exhibitions of that sort. Let me update you. An inquest on Katanga has taken place and, as expected, has been adjourned. The next step will be committal proceedings. The prosecution will produce its witnesses, who can be examined and cross-examined in the usual way. It will then be for the Magistrate to decide whether a prima facie case has been established, so that the matter can go forward to the Central Criminal Court at the Old Bailey. You understand me, Mr. Mullen?”

“Sounds to me like taking two bites at the same cherry.”

“In a way. But it has advantages for us. We can see the whole case we have to meet. Also, recently, a useful alternative procedure has been introduced. Instead of appearing in person, the witnesses’ statements are served on us in written form. I propose, on your behalf, to agree to that.”

“We’re in your hands,” grunted Mullen. It was clear that he was in some awe of the ex-Attorney General.

“Very well. Let us look now at our side of the case. First, I’d like you to tell us how and why you went to see Katanga on that Thursday morning.”

This dive into the heart of the matter produced a visible tension in Mullen. After a pause he said, “I had heard some news from Pretoria which I felt it was my duty to pass on to Katanga.”

“Yes?”

“I was informed that his mother and his two sisters had been taken into custody and that charges were pending.”

“Charges of what?”

“Of conspiring against the State.”

“And you felt that he could help them?”

“He could certainly have helped them. For instance, if he had been prepared to drop the absurd and unfounded evidence which he seemed prepared to give against me, that would naturally have been accepted as willingness to co-operate with our government.”

De Morgan considered this statement carefully. The chop-logic in it was clear to all of them, but instead of pursuing it he said, “Let me go back a little. Exactly how did you set up this meeting?”

“By telephone. From Yule’s office. Before going all the way to Putney, I naturally needed to be certain that Katanga would be there.”

“Of course. And you were told—?”

“That the Katangas were both out. He had some business to transact with his publishers – about a second or third edition of his precious book, no doubt – and that he would be back at some time between eleven thirty and twelve.”

“And his wife?”

“I had no interest in her movements. But I think that the girl – Anna – did tell me that she was out shopping and would be back at about the same time.”

“Between eleven thirty and twelve.”

“Yes.”

“You are sure about that?”

“I’m sure that’s what she said about Katanga. I think she said it about his wife. I didn’t listen carefully to that. I had nothing to discuss with her.”

“Nothing?”

Mullen looked up sharply. He said, “What are you getting at?”

“Surely your news concerned her mother-in-law and two sisters-in-law.”

“Oh, that! I wouldn’t discuss that sort of thing with a woman.”

De Morgan thought about this for a moment. He was visualising what Mullen said as answers to questions in cross-examination. None of it made him very happy. He said, “And you’re quite firm on the time of Katanga’s return?”

“Do you want me to say it again?”

“I’m pressing you because you are certain to be pressed on it by the Attorney General. You realise, I hope, that the half-hour between eleven thirty and twelve is the most important thirty minutes in the whole case.”

Mullen said nothing. Roger thought, He’s not a fool. Surely he can see it.

De Morgan said, “I am assuming, of course, that it
was
the only time you were alone in the room. When your discussion finished, did you go out ahead of Katanga, or did he lead the way to the front door?”

“We went out together. Why does it matter? What’s it all about?”

Instead of answering him, de Morgan extracted one of the documents from the folder in front of him. He said, “We have had a word with our own medical adviser. Dr. Thoroughgood of the London Laboratory. We cannot put him fully in the picture until we see their medical evidence, but it is already clear that the suggestion will be that someone had been able to add an irritant liquid to the olive oil in which the bougie was standing.”

“Bougie?”

“You don’t know, then, about Katanga’s previous accident and the treatment he was having? There was a lot about it in one of the Sunday papers.”

“Sunday papers were not delivered to my cell at Wood Street.”

“No. Of course not. I’d better explain then.”

When he had finished, Mullen said, slowly, “Now that you mention it I did see a sort of glass jar on the sideboard. That’s the one I’m meant to have tampered with, is it?”

“Yes. And now I hope you understand the importance of that half-hour. And of the evidence which Anna will give.”

“She can’t give any evidence about it. She wasn’t in the room.”

“She was next door. And, as we have now discovered, the partition between the kitchen and the living-room is so thin that it constitutes no real obstacle.”

“However thin it was, she couldn’t see through it.”

“No,” said de Morgan softly. “But she could use her ears.”

The silence which followed seemed to Roger to take a long stride into the future. It was Mullen who broke it. He said, in a stifled voice, “And just what is she supposed to have heard?”

“Let me give you two alternatives. Neither of them may be true, but you will be able to judge, between them, the possible parameters of her evidence. She might say that during that half-hour she heard nothing apart from an occasional creak from the chair you were sitting in and perhaps an occasional rustle from the paper which you picked up from the table beside you and were passing the time by reading. Or she might say something quite different. She might say, for instance, that you were pacing up and down. That at one point, hearing a particular board squeak, she knew that you had come to a halt in front of the sideboard. That she heard what sounded like a clink of glass and she wondered what you could have been up to. And that you returned hurriedly to your chair when you heard Katanga put his key into the front door.”

“You’re making it up.”

“Of course I’m making things up,” said de Morgan sharply. “Until we hear exactly what this witness tells the Court we can only guess what she will say.”

“Yes,” said Mullen. He seemed to have recovered his poise. “And since we’re both playing guessing games, perhaps I could give you my own guess. Her story will be a lot closer to your first version than to your second.”

“I’m sure we all share your confidence,” said de Morgan.

As Mullen was leaving, de Morgan signalled to Roger to stay behind. When they were alone he said, “I couldn’t help wondering why our client was so confident that this girl Anna would be on his side. Taking account of her nationality and background one would have supposed that she’d be only too glad to see him go down.”

“I think I can explain that,” said Roger. “We’ve had a lot of help from a young reporter on the
Highside Times and Journal
—”

When he had finished, de Morgan said, “Not easy for the girl. One sees that.” With the end of the formal part of the conference he had got his favourite pipe going. “Glad you were able to put us in the picture, Mr. Sherman. Because” —puff— “it’s pretty clear” —puff— “that this girl is going to need
very
careful handling.”

On Thursday the
Sentinel
published, on its leader page, an article, under a one-word headline in its blackest print:

AGAIN?

It began without preamble.

In March 1984, four South Africans (Air Force Colonel Hendrik Botha and three businessmen, Stephanus de Jager, William Meteler Kamp and Jacobus La Grange) were arrested by British Customs and charged with illicit arms dealing. The charge was not disputed. It was shown that, in the six years between 1978 and 1984, they had channelled millions of pounds worth of high technology air force equipment from America and Europe to South Africa. The four men were first remanded in custody by the Coventry magistrates and in April were granted bail. To secure this, the First Secretary at the South African Embassy offered surety in the sum of £200,000. The men’s passports were confiscated and they were ordered to report daily to the police.

When, six weeks later, the magistrates refused to relax these bail conditions, an application was made to Mr. Justice Leonard, in Chambers. In a ruling which was described at the time as unusual (one can think of other descriptions) the four men were allowed to go back to South Africa, on condition that they returned for the hearing of their case.
They did not return.
The bail sum, which had been increased to £400,000, was forfeited.

At a press conference in South Africa Colonel Botha spoke, with pride, of the way he and his colleagues had helped South Africa to develop many weapon systems. He pointed out that £400,000 was ‘peanuts’ compared with the money they had saved their country in weapon purchases.

Bearing all this in mind our readers will be interested to learn that yesterday, Colonel Karl Mullen appeared at the Mansion House on resumed committal proceedings. He stood charged with the murder of a citizen of Mozambique, Jack Katanga. An application was made on his behalf for bail. It was granted on condition that his passport was confiscated and he reported daily to the police. We cannot speak with absolute certainty, but as far as we have been able to discover this is the first occasion on which a person charged with the crime of murder has been granted bail. We can only hope that the outcome will not be as humiliating to this country as it was on the previous occasion.

The Comet was crisper. It headed its article ‘A Champion Wriggler’ and said:

Those who have followed the twists and turns of the bookshop case will remember Mullen’s two attempts – both unsuccessful – to wriggle out under pleas of diplomatic privilege. Though those two tricks were trumped, fate has now handed him an untrumpable card. The chief witness for the prosecution has been removed. How? Mullen is charged with his murder. Coincidence?

“Have you noticed,” said Eileen Wyvil, “what a curious cross-fertilisation of information there is in this case?”

The Attorney General said, “I’m not sure that I understand what you mean.” Like most of the members of the Chambers he was in some awe of his devil.

“In most cases, until we get to court and hear what the other side has got to say, we have no idea of what’s been going on behind the scenes. Sometimes not even then. In this case we are both being fed, all the time, with the choicest tit-bits. Ours come mainly from these people who call themselves the Orange Consortium. Naturally they’re all out to help us. The defence, on the other hand, seem to be hand in glove with a north London newspaper who are equally well informed, but are against us.”

“And is all this information going to be of any use to us?”

“I’d go as far as to say that
any
information about this girl Anna is of paramount importance.”

The Attorney General thought about it. He had not yet had time to study the case as closely as Eileen had, but he could see the force of this. “I suppose,” he said, “that it really boils down to a question of which side she intends to support.”

“Exactly. And at the moment we know that she is being successfully pressurised to support the defence.”

“You mean that business about irregularity in her residence permit?”

“A very minor irregularity, really.
De facto
, if not in law, she is Professor Macheli’s adopted daughter.”

“I suppose you might say so.”

“So it occurred to me that we might be able to take steps to remove the pressure.”

“Steps?”

“Let me explain what I had in mind.”

The Attorney General listened attentively. Then he said, “You realise I shall have to speak to the Home Secretary?”

“In view of the anxiety of the government that nothing should go wrong in this matter, I fancy that you will find him a not unsympathetic listener.”

After the excitement of the bail proceedings the tempo had slowed. Representatives of the press had tapped all promising sources. They had been headed off by the police from Dorothy and Anna, had received an interesting lecture on crystallography from Professor Macheli and a prepared statement, drafted by Govan Kabaka, on behalf of the Orange Consortium.

The committal proceedings, being documentary, had proved unexciting and were, in any event, under a total reporting embargo. The press were not discouraged. They could feel the ground swell of public opinion and knew that the breakers would come roaring in when the Old Bailey was reached.

Questioned about this in the House, the Attorney General had said that the Honourable Members would not expect him to go into details about a pending case, but he would assure them that the Crown and the defence were equally determined to waste no time. He thought it likely that, if nothing unforeseen transpired, the matter could be brought on before the end of January.

Like the press the Honourable Members, it seemed, were happy to wait. As for Mullen, he had become as resigned as a man of his temper could be to his evening visits to Wood Street Police Station. On a dark evening, with snow threatening, the Desk Sergeant had said, “Soon be Christmas, Mr. Mullen.” And it was, in fact, ten days before that great Christian festival that he received a summons to King Charles II Street. It was the first word he had heard from there for nearly a month.