The insistent atonal jangling ring from John's mobile broke into his thoughts just in time and Karen's name and number flashed upon the screen. Intrigued, he clicked the button and, as the voice spoke into his ear, a broad grin spread across his face. This piece of news was really rich and was to be savoured like a glass of vintage wine.
"Well, Karen, I must take my hat off to her. I've only known her slightly but she confirms my opinion as someone with considerable force of character. You have no lingering reservations about what you've helped bring about, I trust?"
"None whatsoever, John. There were times in there, when I could have sworn it was you answering all those questions, not her. You'd have been proud of her."
"I can think of certain individuals whose acquaintance I am unable to shake off who ought to hear from me personally of the good news."
Karen had spoken to John still gliding down from the total high from the good news. A flicker of concern crept into her voice as John was clearly bent on adolescent mischief.
"I know you, John, and that's the only thing I'm worried about. You may be accused of many things but discretion, never."
"I shall be my usual smooth, debonair self and I will behave myself impeccably in the way that I was brought up at my parent's knee."
Karen groaned to herself as she heard John's overdone flowery promises. Like others before her, she bit the bullet and hoped for the best.
Coope dressed John in his robes of office but his mind was only halfway devoted to the trial. Once a compulsive thought popped itself so deliciously into his mind, he could not help worrying over it like a dog at a bone. A part of his mind heard Neumann Mason-Alan and Brian Cantwell wrangling interminably over some legal technicality. Both were surprised that John let them get on without upstaging both of them as was his habit. Both of them edged their way into infringing on his powers and, like naughty schoolboys, took what liberties that they dared. Tomorrow might be a different day, not to mention the next time when they were just ordinary members of the orchestra and John was first violinist.
"My next witness is D C Winters who was both present at the scene of the crime and later when the defendant was arrested. It might be a good idea for him to be called to the stand."
"I think not, Mr. Cantwell.I consider that the next day should be set aside as his testimony is likely to be lengthy and the cross examination, likewise. Tomorrow morning might be more suitable to give due and proper attention to it. I take it that he will be available?" John said imperturbably with raised eyebrows.
At the nod from both barristers, John hid the mischievous glee inside him when he intoned the usual formula,
"Court is adjourned till tomorrow."
John exited from his throne with noticeable alacrity to his chambers when a surprised Coope helped him out of his robes. She noted the telltale gleam in his eye straightaway.
"I am going to pay a friendly courtesy call to Sir Ian and Lawrence James. I may be some time."
"You're not in any trouble, are you. Judge?"
"Today couldn't be better for me. A pity I couldn't say the same to them though they don't know it."
He beamed as he straightened his tie and zoomed out of the door. An anxious Coope shook her head, feeling as if she were the mother to an adolescent son borrowing the family car and going out on the tiles with too much adrenaline inside him.
A smart rap on the door preceded John's entrance by two seconds and he saw with malicious pleasure, that not only were the 'joined at the hips' duo of Sir Ian and Lawrence James scowling at him but, to one side, was the intense stony glare of Neil Houghton. Ah well, the more the merrier, John's thoughts bubbled up inside him like in the finest champagne.
"Don't you normally consider making an appointment with my secretary before descending on me. You never know, I might be busy."
"Not normally."
John's reply was delivered with perfect aplomb, which brushed aside Sir Ian's elaborate sarcasm like chaff. He casually appropriated a comfortably padded swivel chair and beamed round at the three others in turn, occupying centre stage, but said nothing to both provoke and worry them. A jubilant John Deed spelt impending trouble.
"Well, are you going to tell us what you've come to tell us and have done with us…and the chair," Came the curt, unfriendly tones.
"I thought I'd drop in as I have a bit of news which may intrigue you. I should imagine that your day to day routine must be dull and repetitive and so I thought this might liven things up……… I've just heard it on the grapevine that the prison service has appointed a new wing governor at Larkhall Prison…...and that they made a bold, progressive and, I might say, far sighted and humanitarian choice."
All three listeners visibly twitched at the mention of the prison, which was destined to haunt them. John's teasing tone of voice did not help as he was deliberately dragging out the news, and finally, each adjective as he described the successful candidate sent chills down their spines.
"……Her name is Nikki Wade, someone who you may recall."
"But they can't," chorused Sir Ian and Lawrence James in total horror.
"They just have."
"But they mustn't."
"There I beg to disagree with you."
"How can you, a High Court judge, even consider approving of a former criminal to run a wing in Her Majesty's Prison?" Sir Ian burst out, in a poor attempt to thunder in the sort of voice that John could assume easily when the need arose.
"There I disagree with your statement. I have familiarised myself with the details of a case which I would have rather fancied being involved with…."
Meaning sideways glances exchanged out of the corners of Sir Ian's and Lawrence James's eyes betrayed their recall of an informal discussion on the case. Even then, they vowed that this case should be steered firmly away from Deed even having sight of the case. Neil Haughton was less aware of the details but he could grasp the essentials that, even in the lower reaches of the prison hierarchy, the future of prisons on the shop floor was handed over to someone who was definitely not 'one of them.' As a member of a Cabinet, increasingly devoted to the authoritative control of society, the acquisition of knowledge however trivial, was a prized possession. It made them feel doubly insecure that both their patronage to secure the appointment of the right kind of functionary in the system and prior knowledge of this appointment was stolen away from their control. To make it worse, Deed of all people knew of it before they did.
"…….the point is that the second court of appeal hearing has wiped the slate clean and Nikki has emerged without a stain on her character, not like some people that I could mention."
"I don't know what on earth you're talking about, John," Sir Ian blustered.
John slightly swivelled his chair round to fix Neil Haughton with his gaze. While his lips formed the faint impression of a smile, his eyes definitely weren't. Suddenly all his deeply held values became sharp focussed when he looked at this man with his criminal mind and what he knew of Nikki Wade.
"My Lord, have you some special purpose in taking up our valuable time that the three of us intended to spend on our own. I would not intrude on your space at the Old Bailey on trivial matters."
"Trivial matters, eh? No, you and Sir Ian intrude upon my personal space when a trial comes up where you want a political fix. Seems only right to repay the visits when you have both interminably lectured me. As for you……"
At that point, John abruptly got to his feet, turned abruptly and made his way to the door. Sir Ian and Lawrence James were, after all, only the pathetic underlings of the likes of Neil Haughton however pompously they puffed themselves up to appear to be the opposite. He started to feel unclean in the presence of the worst criminal of all and what he knew of him but was unable to bring him to book for. When the archives on his present actions were thrown open for inspection in thirty years time when no one would be around to care, he was sure that official records would be well sanitized.The sharp slam of the door was succeeded by his rapidly fading footsteps.
The room was filled to the brim by the sort of bottled up anger of those who could not properly say it to the object of their anger. Talking behind the backs of others came easy to them.
"How the devil did this Ms Wade worm her way into the prison service in the first place?" Sir Ian's spiteful tones were the first to give vent to his feelings. He emphasised the word 'Ms' like an angry buzzing bee, the symbol of what was modern and dangerous.
"Well, don't ask me, it's not my department," came the politician's response. "I'm kept busy enough doing my damdedness to secure vital export deals and keeping the wealth creators happy, not in the goings on of some nameless con."
"But it was one of your cabinet colleagues who first let the case to go to the Court of Appeal in the first place. We in the judiciary can only arrange the trial and let justice be done."
"Huh, and your record of discreetly arranging for a safe pair of hands to field the hearing. I don't think so."
"The court of appeal judge and the two other members have a sound reputation."
"Had.You might as well have gone the whole hog and let Deed sit on the bench as a winger." Neil Houghton virtually spat as he glared at Sir Ian. Already John's presence was forgotten as the game of 'pass the parcel' got going in earnest.
The prematurely middle aged secretary with that careful expression on her face walked sedately in the dignified surroundings and started tapping away on her computer. She had her son's birthday party to organise which would involve a bunch of hyperactive boys yelling at each other at full volume, constantly demanding her attention and falling out with each other when they got too excited, arguing over whose turn it was to work the controls of the computer game. Rather like her masters, she thought, as she heard the heated voices rise and fall whom she was paid to act as maid cum nanny for. She knew better than to enter, offering the afternoon cup of coffee. She would be no more welcome here than offering glasses of coke to argumentative schoolboys at the party. She carried on typing away, imperturbably.
John stepped outside into the clean fresh air of the London streets. Well, at least, it was morally cleaner for all the lingering petrol fumes than what was trapped forever inside the edifices of government power. It was only then that the full significance of the earlier conversation with Karen hit him with its full force. Nikki had knocked openly at the door of the establishment and walked right in, with that sheer brazen cheek that he loved without recourse to servile subterfuge or base surrender of integrity. A feeling of pure delight poured through him, symphonic in its depth and elemental power. Part of his joy was that it was so utterly detached from his own self, from his own appetites whether sensual or spiritual. At the same time, it brought tears to his eyes that tremendous good fortune had been visited on a woman whose past legal battles had set a landmark in legal history of which he was proud to be a humble spectator. By all accounts, she had had to fight her way for everything she believed for in her life and also for others whose lives she had touched with her generosity. He had only met her on a handful of occasions and he may never see her again for all he knew but it was good that he had met her. He sincerely hoped that she would think well of him in turn. In a healthy society, the Nikki Wades of the world would lay their rightful claim to such places in the world and the grubby nonentities now lording it over others in their arrogance would be relegated to the basement of society where they belonged. A fresh breeze ruffled his hair and smartly stung his cheeks as he strode through the streets. It was not often these days that he had that dizzying optimism for the future.
"So why did that cretin of a Home Secretary, your friend, allow a second appeal after the first had gone pear shaped."
"Why should I know the inns and outs of another Department. I only sit next to him at Cabinet meetings." Neil's voice rose to an ugly screech of frustration at the pressure being put on him. He suspected that Sir Ian was only getting at him in payback for the time that he had asked him as a personal favour to settle an inconvenient personal matter over George Channing. That man did have the habit of never letting personal grudges go away, damn him.
"You know him. Don't pretend that you only talk cabinet business when you see him or you wouldn't be a minister."
"That was a civil service recommendation, if I remember rightly." Neil Haughton discreetly changed tack, trying to crush him with lofty disdain. "I seem to remember that it was felt that the first hearing had given that wretched woman everything she could possibly get and more than she deserved that she would fall flat on her face. The very first hearing was basically sound and there was not a cat in hell's chance that the second appeal could possibly succeed. That's what we have civil servants there, to make recommendations while ministers make the grand decisions"
"Yes, and create their alibis so they don't come to grief."
"Wasn't it your recommendation in the James Brooklyns case to appoint Deed as a winger for the Court of Appeal hearing?" Neil Haughton asked sharply.
"I would have never thought of that plan," Sir Ian said primly. "There's different levels of formulating recommendations."
Lawrence James had looked on as the other two men verbally slugged it out, his eyes firstly on one man and then on the other. He could suddenly see that he was the most junior and was going to be the chief whipping boy if he wasn't careful. For once, his pride burst to the surface in outrage and his sense of discretion totally left him.
"It is monstrous to blame me for what happened over the james Brooklyns case. You were there, Sir Ian, and were right there with me in that strategy……."
And so the debate wrangled on, the original purpose of the meeting entirely forgotten and the outpouring of words got them nowhere.
"Jesus, Denny," Lauren pleaded to the other woman in the bare brick humble surroundings of their cell. "I know how you feel responsible for Shell but you can't shut me out. You don't talk to me these days like you used to."
"What happens between me and Shell matters shit to you. I can do what I like and feel what I like without you nagging at me." Denny's angry voice spoke to the wall next to her.
"Look me in the eye and tell me that," Lauren urged her patiently but the other woman wouldn't move. What in hell had got into her from one visit, she thought? She had never seen Denny like this before as if she were a different woman. She had seen her in passing pop into Al's cell and that was worrying.
"You can't do nothing for me so you might as well give up trying."
Reluctantly, Lauren had to agree for the moment. That didn't mean that she was going to give up on the kid. Atkins women had their responsibilities. They were made that way.