Deep in the bowels of government, the high and mighty deliberated long and hard, and had finally figured out a strategy to quietly ensure that the case never got to court. Sir Ian was deputized to carry out these tricky negotiations and he caught up with George Channing in the foyer of the Old Bailey.
"Ah, George. We don't get to see much of each other these days."
She was not deceived by the man's tight-lipped attempt at casual cordiality. She didn't like the feel of his remark, especially when his eyes were coldly fixed firmly in her direction. She decided that flippancy would best suit her purposes so that she could be rid of him and head off elsewhere.
"Well, you know how it is, Ian. Life these days is so hectic, that I don't get a chance to talk to people as much as I like."
"You mean this wretched lawsuit against the Metropolitan Police is taking up so much of your valuable time, George."
"Well, you know me, Ian. If a job is worth doing, it's worth doing well. That's the way that Daddy brought me up."
"Quite," he said curtly." What has intrigued a number of us in high places is your choice of client. Your particular exemplary track record would suggest that you would be more likely to defend the Metropolitan Police than to attack it. You would have done a brilliant job in sweeping away this vexatious claim for damages from some supposedly hard done by ex policewoman who is suffering from a martyr complex."
"I take work as I please, Ian. You know that," George retorted, her glassy smile her best shield in an emergency. Up till now, she had dismissed him as a rather insignificant man.
This was the first time that she found him start to threaten her and she found it unsettling.
"Come come, George. By all accounts, you are becoming quite the campaigner these days. Jo Mills and John Deed must be impressed with your skills and dedication," Sir Ian said with false heartiness, making up his commentary on the spot.
"Surely you are being somewhat premature in celebrating my success. I've yet to appear in court."
Sir Ian sighed with exasperation, finding this infuriating woman impervious to his insinuations and he resolved to a more direct form of attack.
'You know, George, we of the Lord Chancellor's Department maintain an active interest in our barristers, especially the high fliers. We have never really talked to you in any depth as it has been an understood thing that you have long shared the interests of the 'movers and shakers' in society. Your partner, Neil Haughton is a politician who is held in the highest esteem. We've noticed you going through something of a temporary mid life crisis. You have parted company from Neil Haughton which is, after all, happens in political life as much as any other. What has caused concern is that you have neglected more long lasting connections. We really wonder just where you are heading."
"Surely, aren't you being rather foolish in apparently telling a woman what to do?"
"We embrace the modern ethics of equal opportunity."
"That's being unusually progressive of you, Ian," George retorted sarcastically.
"By no means, George. At one time, we tended to recruit only from a restricted class in England with the results that ideas and people stagnated. It was counter productive in terms of our long-term aims. We recognize that there are those coming into the fold who are of different ethnic origin – Lawrence James for instance- who has much to offer. We also recognize that there is really no difference between career women and career men. For this reason, we are gently urging you for your own good to drop this case. It can do you no good to your future career."
"What on earth do you mean?"
"Surely, word is bound to get around your normal clientele that you are ceasing to be as sound as you used to be."
"Are you seriously suggesting that I am losing my marbles?" snapped George, an inward chill freezing her veins as she saw how the conversation was heading. Her mind started to go on overload and her thought processes were going click, click, click.
"It's not how I see the matter but more how they see things. A temporary blip can be smoothed over. There is still time to retrieve your fortunes before they start to slip through your fingers. After all, your lavish standard of living is dependent on a regular succession of wealthy clients. Think about it, George."
The blond haired woman spun round on her heel and stalked off, her high heels clicking in short rapid steps. She would not dignify him with an answer.
Her first instinct was to get back to her chambers and grab for her mobile phone and talk to Daddy. Sighing with that sense of long patient suffering, his feet reluctantly dragged him towards her office, only to be greeted with unusual warmth from her daughter.
"So what's the problem now?" he rumbled, wanting to be put out of his misery yet dreading what scrape his imperious daughter might be seeking to be extricated from.
"I've just had a very worrying conversation with Sir Ian," she replied in an unusually muted tone of voice. "It seems that he is trying to blackmail me to abandon the Sally Anne Howe case."
"What?" Joseph exclaimed in shocked tones of voice, jumping to his feet. He could not think for the life of him George could possibly be blackmailed about.
"I haven't done anything wrong, Daddy, only in taking the case on in the first place and joining in with you band of rebels. I am threatened with being frozen out from my regular supply of clients. They think that I am vulnerable because I love the high life."
"Had you thought of taking up criminal work on a regular basis? After all, you are an excellent advocate. It would add more strings to your bow."
"You mean become an imitation Jo Mills? I think not," scoffed George. The idea of her acting in public as a noble defender of the weak seemed laughable. The vision of sainthood hurt her eyes.
"No, as an original George Channing, whoever she is. You have to decide your destiny."
For the first time in his life, a deafening silence greeted Joseph Channing's remark. On the other end of the phone, the words resonated in George's mind as if a tuning fork had been precisely struck. She had focussed in on the one case without thought for the future. She realized that she had approached the crossroads in her life. She needed to go somewhere and sit down and think.
*********
Kay had just finished eating her homemade pizza together with a very grateful Marino who had dropped in at dinnertime. Italian cooking was her speciality. Marino had cultivated that wistful look on his face and knew that the Doc's company and home cooking was a much better deal than eating some lousy takeaway food, someplace nowhere in particular. Just as Marino helped himself to a beer from the fridge, the phone rang.
"Kay Scarpetta, Chief Medical Examiner," she announced in formal tones. "Oh hi George, it's lovely to hear from you. I remember my stay with you with fond affection and Marino remembers your cooking."
"Hmm hmmmm," echoed Marino, grinning his face off but also vividly remembering the sharp edged cut glass charm of George's manner in place of the cheaply disposable world he lived in, well except the Doc's house. He hurried back to rejoin Kay and put his beer on the side. Seeing Marino's sharp interest, Kay kindly gestured Marino to pick up the other extension in the kitchen.
"I'd love to have a social chat but my reason for calling you is business," George said in a lowered tone of voice." I'm in trouble right now. I am in serious danger of being blacklisted by the establishment."
"That's horrible, George. That can't be right. What in hell have you done that deserves this? You are one of the finest advocates I've ever had the pleasure of working with."
"No shit," Marino called out." They can't do that to you."
"Unfortunately they can," George answered in a tight tone of voice as she replayed the reality of the scale of threat being deployed against her. The spontaneous expressions of affection and support really churned up her emotions inside when she had to be objective about the matter.
"It all stems from the case I'm handling now and the case that you helped me out on. Since the judges strike that I told you about, everything has changed. There's been open warfare between us and the establishment and……….."
"They've picked on you as the fall guy," put in Marino." It's not what you've done, see."
Kay fell silent at Marino's sharp observation. It could not be improved upon.
"I wanted to ask you if you can think of any serious problems in working over in your state at least part time. I can foresee that my work in civil cases will dry up over here and I'm not totally confident that I'll get enough criminal work to sustain me. It isn't my speciality, you know."
"Just let me think this one over and I'll come back to you. I need to research this one. I'd love to see you work over here, both personally and professionally," Kay pronounced in a firm definite tone of voice. It was the plain, direct answer that George expected.
"It would be a dream come true," sang out a star struck Marino.
A little while later, a solitary tear worked its way out of George's eye, which she wiped disdainfully away. She was happier to bathe herself in feelings of being wanted by her nearest and dearest. It helped her feel better
John had been reading his copy of the Times when there was a discreet knock at the door. George had a little knowing smirk on her face as she let herself into his chambers and kissed him on his cheek.
"People will start talking about us if you keep popping into my chambers," he said, his tone of voice indicating that such a prospect would be pleasurable.
"Well, we're married or at least we have been once," came the flirtatious reply, which made John beam all over his face. Despite her conversation with John at the restaurant, she couldn't resist flirting with John as long as did not lead him into getting the wrong ideas.
"Is this business or pleasure?" he answered in kind.
"John, I thought I'd let you into a little secret," George confided gleefully as she figured out that he should be the first person to know of her future plans. "I'm seriously thinking of upping sticks and moving to the States, at least part of the time."
John carefully folded up the newspaper and his face was studiously blank. This was not what he had expected. After the conversation in the restaurant, this was seriously bad news.
"Of course you are free to come and go as you please but won't you find it something of a culture shock?"
"I don't know. I've always been a quick learner. Of course, the differences between law the other side of the pond may be exaggerated and it is something I'm researching."
"So what's brought this on?" he said, making it clear to George that this was his first reaction to the news, not the second.
"Only that Sir Ian and his cronies are threatening to cut back on my normal work if not
I have to use my talents to bring me enough money to live on. If you must know, I've asked Kay Scarpetta to check out the ground over there."
"I'll kill Haughton for this," murmured John with suppressed fury in his voice, noting with alarm the Americanism that George had unintentionally slipped into. It seemed symbolic of the situation.
"Oh, don't be so nineteenth century, with pistols at dawn. That fearful ex of mine might
be only partially responsible. It takes a crowd of them to have thought up this plan. You
have to keep everything in perspective. Besides, you don't get rid of me that easily any more than Daddy will see the last of me. It might not come to anything, after all."
George embraced this sometimes infuriating intractable man more to comfort him. She wasn't totally certain of her own feelings of the idea anyhow but John wasn't to know that. If he did, he wouldn't stop beavering away at her to change her mind but she couldn't be doing with that. Only George could change George's mind. She had supposed that John would have worked that out long ago.