"I am Judge Jackson and I'm running this trial. In my court, I intend to see respect for the rule of law adhered to. On my right is Judge Everard, my winger who will advise me. Mr Neumann Mason-Alan, will you open for the prosecution," the thin faced man declaimed in portentious tones. You fool, George and Monty thought in close sympathy. The jury looked taken aback while the words scared the shit out of Mel Bridges.
Neumann Mason-Alan countered the initial shock by leading a line of tedious questioning of the two stakeout drugs squad officers, avoiding his usual vice of asking leading questions. They declared in slow repetition how they'd seen the accused get on her motorbike in the morning at various precisely recorded times and arrive back in the evening. The monotone delivery induced a soporific effect on Mel Bridges after her initial shock, inducing the feeling that this elaborate costumed charade was being conducted around her and she might easily tiptoe out of the court and it would continue without her. When the second witness made repeated reference to a casually dressed, well to do fair haired woman arriving and leaving on a regular basis, Judge Jackson who had directed a frowning gaze on the court, interjected imperiously.
"Mr Mason-Alan, I don't see this woman amongst the list of witnesses. Why isn't she being called to give evidence?"
"There was felt no cause to do so. The police investigation dropped her from the investigation," smiled Neumann Mason-Alan through gritted teeth, arms outstretched. She had been identified as Jo Mills and he saw no reason to pursue an obvious blind alley.
"Nor me either," added George helpfully. She had the sinking feeling that these interventions weren't going to work and this was par for the course for this judge.
"But that's not good enough. I demand that she be called as a witness this very instant," Judge Jackson expostulated, eager to assert his authority. Oh God no, thought George, Neumann Mason-Alan, Mel Bridges and Monty Everard, the last of whom rose to the challenge.
"Both sides have had the chance of submitting such witnesses as they thought relevant and there are rules against admission of last minute evidence and witnesses. For my money, both experienced Queen's Counsels know what they are doing. In any case, either side could have grounds for appeal if this affected the verdict and favoured the other party," Monty grated in firm decisive tones. As he knew very well, the fear to his public reputation concentrated Jackson's mind like nothing else could have done.
"In that case, continue. Let's not be wasting any more time," the man said, tight-lipped. Everyone kept straight faces except for an obviously confused looking Mel.
After that diversion, the trial ran steadily downhill for George. Neumann Mason-Alan was no genius but in his plodding way, he deployed the witnesses and evidence which stacked up remorselessly against her client, especially the witness evidence of the drugs bust. If Mel Bridges couldn't be nailed for criminal conspiracy to operate a drugs ring, she was wide open to the lesser charge of possessing a large quantity of Class A drugs which some bright spark had placed on the indictment. George plugged away as best she could knowing that the big guns in the form of DCI Taylor would be called after lunch and then Mel Bridges faced the inevitable onslaught.
At this moment, Nikki made her quiet entrance in the visitor's gallery up on high born of her emotional desire to stroll down memory lane. After her first triumphs in the Court of Appeal firstly in getting her freedom and next in wiping her name clean as cop-killer, she'd been involved in less perilous circumstances in a series of court cases in the Old Bailey and she'd indulged fond reminiscences in sitting in the same gallery where she and her friends had once sat. She had wended her way here, swinging past security and being greeted with a smile by security, as she revisited the scenes of her further triumphs testifying in support of her friends and Helen or watching from the gallery as her favourite barristers and John Deed and Monty Everard had worked legal wonders. It was part of her return to work to embrace her dual identity of working woman and campaigner for prison reform and loving mother and partner to Helen, despite her tiredness. Paul had indulged her request as Nikki needed it and also to ensure that her knowledge wasn't becoming outdated. As she took her place, George and Monty took her eye with fond remembrance and even Neumann Mason Alan's presence was softened by nostalgia. Suddenly a discordant note was struck by this thin-faced young man speaking in arrogant tones and he roused all of Nikki's dormant violent antipathy towards abusive men just at an unexpectedly
"And did you conclude from the size of the drugs haul and the way it was secreted away that the accused was not merely holding the quantity of illegal drugs but with a view to supply it?" Neumann Mason Alan said, becoming over eager in reaction to the torpid way the trial unrolled.
"My Lord, isn't this a leading question," George shot back, eager to make some kind of mark on the trial.
"Silence. I am Judge Jackson and I decide what is a leading question," the man said, a sense of power rippling like adrenaline through his system.
It was at this point that Nikki gripped the rail of the visitor's gallery and her face turned white with fury. The name Judge Jackson came straight out of her subconscious and she relived the moment when, in her absence, she'd been ripped away from her former existence to the bare savagery of Larkhall Prison from her former existence as a businesswoman. Monty took one glance at Nikki and stepped in.
"I consider that questioning should be more properly directed at your next witness, DCI Taylor. Seeing that it is nearly lunchtime, court is adjourned," he said in forceful tones designed to flatten out dissent wherever it came from. As everyone started to file out of the court, Monty vaulted over the side exit into the court and made his way rapidly up to where Nikki was sitting, frozen like a statue.
"Nikki," Monty called out into her ear with all the warmth of manner he could summon up."Come with me into a side room. We need to talk."
The last words curiously conjured up exactly the way that Helen could tune into her feelings, however different their voices. Numbly, she did as she was bid and found herself sitting down and sensing a kindly presence just when she needed it. She blinked her eyes open and recognised to her surprise Monty's craggy features.
"I'm not only here to talk to you as your company is far preferable to that wretch I've been trying to coach but I'm really afraid that you'll do the kind of damn fool act I'm always protecting John Deed from. The two of you are more similar in nature than perhaps even you know."
Nikki's expression cleared and softened in response to the earnest plea in the man's rough voice. It wasn't the first time this comparison had occurred to her and it pleased her.
"You mean we're both as bad as each other?"
"Both of you get the bit between your teeth and you're away. You're both reckless leaving me to urge caution and restraint. I feel a little envious of you at times."
"John's a natural leader," Nikki replied calmly, the man's self esteem problems peeping through the cracks."He's not Superman. He gets the backup from you he needs. Number two isn't bad, don't you worry," Nikki urged, her concern for this lovable man melting the last traces of her rage.
"Back to Jackson," Monty pursued in businesslike tones, treating Nikki as one of the brethren which wasn't lost on her."He's the son of the hanging judge who first sent you down, blast him. I'm acting as winger because of his reputation and he's certainly lived up to it."
"So what's your plan?" Nikki asked politely.
"If we could get away with it, John and I would cheerfully sit on the bugger and get him to change. Failing that, right minded barristers like Jo Mills, George Channing, Brian Cantwell and even Neumann Mason-Alan could appeal his sentences. That focusses his mind very swiftly. Even Lawrence James who loves him can't save him from the brethren if we stick together. You've seen us in action of course," Monty declaimed proudly in vibrant tones that totally convinced Nikki.
"I get it. We'll leave it to you. I'm all right now. Promise," grinned Nikki. Helen had given her similar notice that she can shoulder the bulk of the childcare so she was directed to stick to doing what she was best at.
"I have to go, Nikki. I've got to kick Jackson into shape for the next session and deal with John's incandescent rage later on." This drew a wide grin from Nikki as she could imagine the scene.
"The woman on trial will go down. She hasn't a hope and George knows it. We wouldn't have let that fool loose on any other case. Be seeing you," Monty finished before rocketing out the door like a man on a mission. An immense feeling of relief flowed over Nikki. Through Monty's rapid words, she'd completed her work task and she'd move on when she was good and ready.
"So what proceeds from the alleged drug dealing did your investigation find as possessed by my client over there in the dock?" questioned George of DCI Taylor in
pursuing the one promising area in her case.
"You'll find all the considerable sums of cash payments paid in personally in the bank accounts set out in the evidence," pressed back DCI Taylor.
"But where's the bling, the villa in Spain, the flashy cars, the expensive lifestyle? All you have to show are a couple of electric guitars,"retorted George. Monty pressed his hand on Jackson's sleeve, indicating that this was a proper field of investigation.
"The cash payments are good enough for me," replied DCI Taylor. Beneath her crisp blue uniform and white shirt lovingly ironed by her partner early this morning, she inwardly conceded the point.
"Let's put it another way. The learned counsel in his questioning established that you have an exemplary career in the drugs squad, with many successful investigations to your credit, a police commendation and rapid promotion considering your age, have you not," rapped out George confidently.
"Yes I have."
"I put it to you that the typical drugs baron has an expensive lifestyle such that I detailed earlier on while my client's lifestyle bears not the remotest resemblance to this. Can you explain this huge discrepancy?" George finished triumphantly, spreading her arms wide.
"No I can't. It doesn't mean she isn't a drugs baron," came DCI Taylor's simple answer. She knew no other way than to tell the truth.
This took the wind out of George's sails utterly. Worse was to come. when Mel Bridges came to take the stand, when all the accumulated evidence was thrown at her and there was nothing George could do about it. Judge Jackson gave her twelve years imprisonment. As Mel stood there shaking in her shoes, the strange thought dawned on her that this was far worse than any headmistress's punishment. She was led off forlornly down to the cells, awaiting the white van and back to Larkhall Prison as a fully fledged prisoner.
"That's better," Kristine said softly in the healing silence of the dark as she felt John being at peace at last. It had been a rocky road tonight after Kristine had been 'released' from Larkhall prison the day before. Her visit to John had been brief. Retrieving a mortally offended Jules who wouldn't forgive his mistress for abandoning him, at least not without recompense was trying enough. John was shocked to see Kristine's bruised eye, a souvenir of being assaulted by Buxton, but she wasn't in the mood for his concern.
"It's all right John," she had said firmly. "It'll heal. It isn't likely to endanger my sight," she had said harshly. All she wanted was to retire to the blissful solitude and safety of her own flat after the intensity of living cheek by jowl with so many people. Her head was still buzzing after all her experiences which weren't ready to be channelled via her computer to the electronic ether. After showering in her own sweet time, she flung herself to bed to luxuriate in the feel of her wide soft bed, Jules having sloped off pointedly to his basket. She dropped into the pit of dreamless sleep as her body demanded it.
The next day, she found herself taking the partially derailed track back to the university. When she reached her office, she was overcome by a feeling of long distanced familiar surroundings which her nerve endings were hyper-conscious of. She needed to get onto her computer and reconnect with her world. She clicked onto her computer and idly worked through her accumulated e mails, dumping the trivial. When she'd come to the end, she created a brand new word document, entitled it "Some experiences of Larkhall Prison" to keep an open ended feel. She lit up her first cigarette of the day, feeling the grateful nicotine and the sound of the wind chimes from the open window. At last, she was ready, without trying to work in long familiar academic frameworks, she poured out her experiences in a stream of prose for an hour or so.
Not until she'd finished at midday did she feel safe to draw breath. This was her theoretical starting point to assimilate her experiences of two weeks imprisonment into proper form and make it the reality she needed. The peace and quiet of her surroundings were balm to her senses and she was also starting to consider that she'd been ungracious to John for looking after Jules on top of his own dog in her eagerness to get back to normality. She was ready to talk.
"It's nice to hear from you, Kristine," Coope's pleasant tones sounded in her ear coming down the line and cheering her up. She passed the phone over to John and she could see that the judge was quickly laying plans after being in a restless mood all morning. She didn't know for certain what the cause was but she had her suspicions but it wasn't her place to ask him outright.
When John came round that evening, he was still wound up by the account Monty had given him of the new pipsqueak of a judge and his lamentable and arrogant performance in trying a case that was cut and dried and served up on a platter. As Monty had feared, it had taken all his persuasion to stop him from committing some damn fool act of reckless abandon. Nevertheless, the restraint he'd secured of John was only skin deep and below the surface, he was still boiling with pent-up rage. He didn't stop to think that he mightn't be in the best mood to see Kristine and wonder if she had her own cross to bear. In reality, she was still traversing the perilous adjustments from getting more than she bargained from her research project, including the way she'd had to be rescued which gave her mixed feelings so her nerves were still frayed. The result was a full-on row which blew up from nowhere and John stalking out into a remote box-room in the flat. The trouble was that both of them had far too good a command of the English language for their own good.
Tension hung on the air, Mimi and Jules wondering what on earth had happened to the two humans and it was only when they each started to make tiny whimpering sounds that John and Kristine each started to look outwards from themselves and comforted the two creatures. This made both of them start to wonder just what in hell they'd been arguing about. John felt it was down to him to make the first move to build bridges as being stuck in a box-room doing nothing was not what he had wanted.
"Ridiculous though I'm sure it sounds, I quite overlooked you'd spent two weeks in Larkhall prison. After all I've heard of the place, I should have known better. Perhaps we should sit down, you tell me about your experiences and I'll tell you about mine."
Even engaging in an act of humility, this man has such a melodious voice I could forgive him anything, well almost, Kristine thought and with a wide smile, she indicated the sofa.
"You pour me a dry Martini and you pour yourself whatever you like. We both need one. After we've done, we'll talk as you said and I'll cook you my extra special dinner reserved for those with discerning palates," Kristine said in her smoothest tones, meaning the dinner she'd cook if sex was on her mind which John understood loud and clear.
Thus it was that the evening slid away into a state of more pleasurable normality. John winced in sympathetic pain at the unbelievable experiences that Kristine retailed in such casual tones so that his sexual desire was spiced with admiration and respect for her. Kristine at last got the message John had been saying in his jagged incomprehensible fashion of a young Judge Jeffries on the loose and she understood completely the stress he felt at trying to keep this idiot in line. After all, he might easily be a source of outrageous prison injustices if he weren't controlled. She felt a little guilty at her impatience and anger that anyone outside her recent raw experiences was unfeeling. They both apologised to each other graciously over the succulent meal and alcohol and this put necessary temporary distance between themselves and their lives.
"Don't forget to turn the light out," Kristine said softly in that sense of shared familiarity before the rustle of clothes announced their disrobing, The sexual contact they made was hard and furious and, while Kristine could easily account for it by two week's sexual abstinence, either John had done the same or else he was a good performer even if he'd just separated himself from another woman he'd pleasured. After they'd satiated each other, they were coming down from their heights into a state of blissful abandon that abolished everything out of their bedroom and they felt at peace at last.
"There's nothing like a good row to have some really sensational sex and you take some beating even amongst my wide circle. I mean men and women," Kristine said smugly as her fingers described random patterns on John's back.
"Don't your students provide far too much temptation?" John asked without thinking about it.
"There are some gorgeous women but they are out of bounds. I don't feel that safe that I'd risk losing my job," Kristine answered with a mixture of levity and seriousness which didn't bother John any.
"I suppose I'm safer. I once seduced Jo Mills when I was her pupil-master," John said as if he was a naughty boy which, of course he was. It made Kristine laugh and reminded her what a bad man he was and how it gave him that extra dash of rakish attraction.