I told you I live.
I hate this chapter. It was very hard to write, and it shows with how terribly it's formatted and composed; I learned I can't write court scenes without being abysmally boring. But I want to wrap this story up. It's eating at me daily.
Two chapters left. And they only need grammatically editted. I'm excited.
Deflating your car tires,
Kelsey
CHAPTER 48: NO LUCK FOR THE GERMANS
'Hardened exteriors—especially when bolstered by boisterous conviction—often are hiding a soft, weak, trembling interior…'
The Professor thought this as his confidence waned. His legs moved him through the courtroom, but his reason was scrambling for the door. He was soon in front of the bench, the owlish judge eyeing the top hat carefully before boring into Layton's stern gaze.
"And wouldn't you know it, Professor Layton in the flesh…and top hat." It was a good sign that the judge wasn't bellowing at him to exit the courtroom, and another good sign that he recognized the hat. "Yet we've already begun the proceedings…"
"I understand, Your Honor, but considering this trial and the circumstances surrounding it aren't being followed in the strictest sense, according to typical formal proceedings, perhaps you could excuse my tardiness and allow me to be a valuable witness to Miss Haris."
Laura merely blinked, trying her hardest to hide her tears of relief. 'He came anyway… I was certain I was going to have to defend myself…' she cried internally. In truth, she'd warned him of coming to the trial, unwilling to let him stir himself into the whirlpool she'd helped create. But here he was, ignoring her demand.
Did she really expect him to obey?
"Are you claiming that you'll be assisting us as a witness today, Professor?" the judge asked quizzically.
"Yes, Your Honor." Layton smiled knowingly. "I'm well prepared for any variables this entire case may offer and have been an intricate part of this experience."
There was a silence, a cough. Someone blew their nose. And finally the judge acquiesced with a solemn snort and a hum through his mustache. Someone from the prosecution's side of the floor made to protest, but the judge glared hard at the person. No one else spoke or moved.
"So be it. I'm adding in Professor Layton as a witness. Please take a seat, Professor."
The formalities were presented once more, the rules read. Court decorum was brought to everyone's attention for a second (and sterner) time. The judge demanded the doors be monitored to prevent further interruptions. And then he introduced the case.
"It's not news, really, what this is all about. As I said earlier, this whole affair is rather…atypical, to describe it mildly. Initially this was going to be handed over to the International Criminal Court, but… Nevermind all that. It's my project now.
"As we don't have the luxury of finding a jury, given the situation our nation—continent, rather—is in, the outcome of this trial will be determined by me, Judge Winston Gravers, from the bench. The parties involved are the prosecution—which is made up of 13 nations, represented by Mr. Buxtehude," he gave a sweep of his massive hand in a general direction as if a lawyer would materialize in front of him, "and the defendants—Mr. Edward Chancey the Third and Miss Laura Haris, who will be defending themselves separately. Both of the defendants have been accused of crimes against humanity, specifically premeditated mass international murder, intentional cause of societal collapse, and—perhaps minor in the scheme of things—monopolizing in the commercial sector…" He rolled his eyes subtly before exhaling.
He finished with, "And on that note, the prosecution may proceed with their opening statement."
A tall, well-built man with stylishly smoothed hair stood and approached the bench. Alduous Buxtehude, the chosen lawyer representative of the 13 international countries that had had a personal beef with the accused, smirked as he sauntered to the front. His leer only faltered when an errant piece of his dark locks fell over his forehead. Tucking it back in its place, he resumed his smug grin, spoke quietly with the judge, gave an oath, and turned on his heel to face the audience.
"Certainly we all know what this court case will entail," Alduous began, voice confident and spun of silk. "Certainly we've all been the victims of the forced upheaval of life as we know it, in some way or another. Have you not looked around at the displacement of London…England…Europe's citizens? Families? Children?"
His face contorted emotionally with every list, alliteration, and example he continued with. The audience was listening with rapt attention, some nodding, others squirming. The lawyer was determined to put the accused in the lowest, dankest, most punishing hell that the world had to offer, and it was incredibly obvious to all present.
"Does anyone think that this couple of young, criminal masterminds is going to go free? Heh heh," he chuckled, shaking his head. "For what they've caused? I'd sooner be drawn and quartered than let that happen."
"Easy, Mr. Buxtehude…" Judge Gravers warned caustically. "We don't need to bite so hard as to draw blood in our opening statements…"
Alduous heavily sat down with a huff.
Then Edward Chancey the Third was called to the witness stand. His facial expression never shifted from the arrogant, condescending scowl that he always cast at whoever caught his eye. His hand cuffs tinkled as he stood, made an oath to tell the truth (Laura snorted), and then sat. Mr. Buxtehude slowly lifted himself up from his comfortable seat and pinned his sight on the young man.
"Mr. Chancey…young Chancey! And you're only…32 years old?" he asked, breaking the ice a little.
"Yes…" Edward replied quietly.
"Such a young person, especially to be in the position you currently find yourself. Tell me, did you ever finish college?"
Edward smirked. "Is this even relevant?"
"Let me ask another question then: how would you describe your relationship with any of your previous professors? I know certainly by the student rosters at Gressenheller that you were in college for at least three whole years, and then…well, I suppose as you mentioned, your degree—or lack thereof—is not pertinent…"
"If you knew the answer, then why ask the question?!" Edward snapped, clearly frustrated at his apparent lack of finishing his studies. "As for my relationship with my professors, I'm sure you can find that out by yourself as well." He folded his arms and shot a cantankerous glare towards the lawyer.
After several more questions (and even more vague answers), Mr. Buxtehude had obviously worn Edward out with drivel and boring interrogation, and was getting nowhere. The lawyer established Edward's involvement with Petrolite and his push to implement drills; he'd made a connection between some of Edward's former professors and coworkers (now deceased); he reaffirmed the whole Leopold façade that Edward had maintained for years. But…not all of the details (and much less, a conclusive motive) were confirmed. And Edward was in a combative mood.
"Why don't you describe your relationship with Miss Laura Haris?" Buxtehude grumbled.
"Oh yes, Laura! We finally come to her!" Edward piped up, his tone flirting with the possibility of being interested. "Enter Miss Haris, the mastermind."
"I beg your par—"
"Laura is—well, was—my most valued employee. She's a genius. A brilliant engineer, an even more brilliant strategist. She may have done more damage, though, had the Professor not intervened…"
For the first time since Edward had been interrogated by the Professor, Laura felt her heart clench and her voice hitch in her throat. Her name entered the stage, and she desperately wanted to shout and defend herself, but her words balled up and her nose felt that familiar twinge of hotness just before her eyes welled.
"The Professor?" the lawyer asked.
"Yes. She employed Professor Hershel Layton because she felt guilty for all of her misdeeds…so she had to frame me. Well, she ended up getting herself into some trouble too. You can't hide everything, Laura…"
The man tried getting more details, but Edward simply wanted to play around with everyone's emotions. He gave enough bait before reeling in the lawyer, whose face grew more brick-like with every tug at his patience.
"Nice try…" Edward chuckled, completely enthralled by his game with the lawyer.
'As if I'm going to outright claim the entire throne of this scheme…two can play in this game.'
And that was exactly what it all was to him: a long, bumpy game. Mr. Buxtehude was clearly beside himself with anger, and his face now resembled a lopsided, especially purple, turnip.
"I'm done with my interrogation of Mr. Chancey!" he spat.
Edward left the stand, smirking, and the seat was replaced by Laura, who slowly made her way to the stand. She tried to keep her shackles as silent as possible; it wasn't a noise to which she could easily become accustomed.
Mr. Buxtehude began his interrogation of Laura as brusquely as he did with Edward.
"So you're quite the little genius engineer, is that right, Miss Haris?"
"You say I am," she muttered back quietly.
"Why don't you tell us a bit about yourself. You have an education of sorts, don't you? It seems you attended Grissom's?"
"I did."
"And…how did you come about working for Edward Chancey?"
Without much detail or emotion, Laura explained her failure to obtain a college degree, her car accident, and then how she heard of an engineering position for an archaeological research group.
"Well, that faded away and soon I moved to Petrolite, since that was what Edward's interests evolved to," she continued. "After all, the one spearheading the archaeological pursuits was Edward himself. Of course I knew of him as 'Leopold' at the time, but… The whole time, the use of my talents was a chance to prove my worth, and it let me—"
She broke off, hesitant to reveal her internal struggle: how she wanted to shame Layton and help the former Leopold-now-Edward emerge as a more victorious archaeologist. But…how to express such a thing to a courthouse full of people unaware of her and the Professor's previous, unacceptable relationship?
Confused, Mr. Buxtehude eyed her with an urgency that begged her to finish.
"…it let you…what?"
"It let me define myself and break my own mold, so to speak," she ended generically, thanking a higher power for her quick wit.
'What a stupid answer…' she admonished inwardly.
Rolling his eyes, the lawyer sucked on his teeth before pressing further. "And you willingly worked for Petrolite for…a little over five years?"
"Yes."
"With Edward as your employer?"
"As I mentioned, he was impersonating his cousin, Leopold, at the time. But yes, ultimately as it turns out, Edward was my employer. Leopold is dead though. Died in a boating accident. You can find that out from the Book of Memory's page. And perhaps the records that Edward, well, erased."
In stark contrast to Edward's reticence, her candor was considerably surprising to the lawyer, but it didn't cause his haughty tone to waver. Moreover, he was hearing terms he hadn't been introduced to yet.
"The 'Book of Memory'? What does that mean?"
"Er…well, it's an archaeological find of Edward's. It's a book that connects events between two people, as far-fetched as that sounds…"
"Uh, do we have this remarkable artifact in our possession?" Buxtehude sneeringly inquired, shooting a look at the judge. He clearly wasn't buying the testimony.
Laura shrugged. "I personally don't."
Judge Gravers snorted and shook his head. "No physical evidence has been brought forth, so no. We don't have such a thing in our possession."
The lawyer returned to Laura. "And…erased, you say? How does one simply erase records?"
Laura sighed. "He covered up the fact Leopold died in the manner that he did. That's how you create a proper story, a proper persona, I suppose… Lie and remove facts? He killed people."
They chatted briefly on the topic of Edward's removal of Leopold's death from history, and then the lawyer became bored with it; he wasn't exactly interested in mythical books and Laura's adventures in Italy and around London.
"Fictitious drivel," he grumbled under his breath. "Well, what we do know is that you worked for a man whose goal was to create drills and drown the world, correct?"
"Well…I didn't know of those goals. I worked to create drills that sought crude oil."
"Evidence points to the fact that Edward placed these drills specifically over fault lines. Regardless of whether Edward forced this to happen—by allegedly killing off his expert advice and dodging protocol to get permission—or not, that is what happened. Fact. And did you ever question your purpose with Petrolite, what your mission with the company was? You seem nonchalant about the whole thing."
"I…I did eventually question." Laura felt herself falling into a trap of some sort. Under normal circumstances, she'd be able to catch it. But…somehow, she began to drown in a strange sensation of guilt.
"Eventually?" Buxtehude asked, smirking, clearing his throat and tilting an ear towards the young woman.
"I thought Edward wanted to mine oil…deep, deep oil. So I built the drills to be capable of reaching that depth. I told you this. His talk deviated from oil, and…he seemed different about the whole thing. So obviously I started questioning his reasoning and the company's purpose."
"And did you question your coworkers disappearing? Over the course of years?"
"I…assumed they quit…at that time…"
"Hmm…really. What do you mean he seemed 'different' about the whole thing?"
"He…he talked more about a 'grand scheme'…no more talk about oil and profits. Seemed odd."
She answered a few more questions, some specific about the drill's functions and capabilities. It was obvious Buxtehude was pinning some of the blame on Laura; he'd see to it she got prison time as well.
"And yet…you continued working for him until the very end? Up until the world was swallowed up? Well, an attempt to swallow up the world…"
Of course it was true. "Yes," she replied, too tired and depressed to bother dodging the interrogation. Suddenly she wasn't Laura Haris anymore, and she murkily turned inward to address the festering desolation filling her mind.
The man may have asked further questions, she didn't know, but she heard the crowd become noisy for a bit—a quick stir—before the lawyer shook his head with a winning grin.
"Miss Haris, it seems that you have a knack for simple answers…but there's a lot going on in that head of yours…"
She merely stared back at him, trying to hide her inner turmoil. She didn't want to talk anymore. Her interrogation alone had taken almost an entire hour, and the audience was getting numb. When Mr. Buxtehude alerted the judge that he was finished with Laura, Judge Gravers grumbled a bit and called a brief recess before the final questioning of witnesses began. Laura felt herself move calmly away from her seat and towards the room's perimeter, barely noticing the bailiff's hand on her shoulder. She glanced briefly at the Professor, who gave her a wink beneath his hat brim, and then she slipped through a door from everyone's sight.
Luke had been a nervous wreck during the entire interrogations, barely able to contain himself when Edward should have broke and blurted out the true in its entirety (but instead remained silent and snotty).
"I can't believe that lying, rotten—"
"Hush, Luke," Flora hissed, looking around them cautiously. "Don't let anyone know that we know what's going on…"
"What's it matter? This is getting bleak… Edward won't talk, Laura is dismal; this whole thing was doomed from the start!"
"Don't lose hope so easily, Luke," Flora admonished the boy with a small frown. "Do you think the Professor will let Edward get away with any of this? I bet he'll say something to put Edward in a corner."
"I suppose…" Falling back into his seat, Luke sighed and crossed his arms. "Still as boring as playing checkers with Rosa though…"
As the final interrogation, Mr. Buxtehude was to question the witnesses. Though, for this particular incident, only one who knew anything existed: Professor Layton. Nervous yet confident, the Professor took a seat at the witness stand and smiled as the lawyer haughtily approached him.
"So we have the famous Professor Layton in our midst, and as a witness, I expect nothing more than the best! Is that fair enough?"
"I daresay you flatter me, Mr. Buxtehude," Layton replied, obviously not flattered a bit. "I'll only give you the truth of this matter. And…let us remember: the devil is in the details."
Chuckling, the lawyer began a bit softer than with his previous targets. "Professor, please tell us about your relationship with Miss Haris and Mr. Chancey."
A shrewd man, the Professor thought. 'But: I am more so.'
In so many brief words, Layton explained his earlier teaching of Laura, and how he knew Edward via his father. Other than that, the devil of the more intricate details (specifically his true relationship with Laura) would not be exorcised this time.
"And…Miss Haris requested your help in her questioning of Edward and Petrolite?" Buxtehude asked. "After almost a decade of no correspondence? Is that correct?"
"Indeed. It's a common occurrence, that I receive inquiries about people's troubles. Sometimes I get these requests before the police do, to be truthful."
"And naturally, this is what happened."
"Yes, Miss Haris asked for my help in finding out about Mr. Chancey, and at that time, Leopold. It seems my reputation as a puzzle-solver preceded my archaeological prowess, which, to my chagrin, seems to often be the case…
"But I digress. I have a piece of evidence that may prove useful to this investigation, by the way. You mentioned this earlier…"
Folded and tucked neatly into a coat pocket was a page from the Book of Memory. All eyes—including Edward's, especially—were focused on the blank square that the Professor carefully opened, then held aloft.
"Explain yourself, Layton… Has this been cleared by the Judge?" Mr. Buxtehude demanded, genuinely curious.
"This is a page from the Book of Memory, an ancient artifact that is spoken of only in certain archaeological circles. A rarity, this object has been lost to history…until Mr. Chancey thankfully uncovered it for us. How that was done, I still have yet to discover, but as for this page… This is really all we need." He flashed a grin at Edward. "A truth serum of sorts, this page connects the names of two people whose names are written on it, and displays a list of every meeting—or memory—between the two.
"And therefore, with a simple flick of the pen, I can connect your name—" he glanced at Edward, "—and anyone else in this world…or the next."
Edward's eyes glazed over and he sat frozen. Laura smirked, triumphant bliss coursing through every vein in her body.
'I hope this is acceptable evidence…'
Edward seemed to telepathically glean her sentiments. "Using a fantastical piece of 'evidence', are you, Professor?" he chortled nervously. "Is this really going to be accepted in a court of law?!"
The audience stirred again, and the judge snapped at Edward.
"That's enough out of you! No comments out of anybody except for the witness!"
"Observe," Layton said quietly, ignoring the conversation that had occurred. He proceeded to write his own name, then Judge Gravers' on the paper. He handed the paper to Buxtehude, who passed the paper to the judge. The large man looked at it with an initial scowl of disbelief. Upon further inspection, he looked at the Professor, back down at the paper, laughed a bit, shook his head, then looked back up again. He continued this way for several seconds, opening his mouth to speak, then thinking better of it.
"What is the meaning of this…" Judge Gravers muttered. "Black magic?"
"It is not known how this page—how the Book—works," Layton explained with a sigh. "But, as you can see, it's painfully accurate. I'd forgotten we'd both smuggled pickled herring into the chemistry laboratory and stuffed the Bunsen burners full of it back in our university days, as you've seen on the page. Go ahead: write a couple more names for yourself."
"I'd much rather see the correlation between our convicted and any other pertinent individuals," the Judge decided quickly with a nervous swish of his mustache, collecting himself after the Professor's comment. "Let's continue."
The Professor loomed over the paper like a voracious bird of prey and addressed the process of how Laura and he discovered more and more about Edward, reciting lists of pertinent correlations between Edward and his hired employees, those who were blatantly ignored when their engineering expertise should have been heeded. He then noted chronologically when Edward's meetings with his experts came to a sudden halt: when the employee met his or her demise.
The rest was all detail: Edward hiding valuable information about Leopold's death; Edward giving a brief prophetic speech at the environmental conference, alluding to the impending earthquake; his disappearance amidst the panicking audience; his lack of communication with his supposed fellow Petrolite owner, Edward Chancey II…
"…who—by the way—is deceased. All meetings between father and son ceased because, as it says here, both were involved in a violent altercation in which Edward Chancey senior ended up suffering blunt force trauma to the skull… Where is his body? Well, we found it in the drill chamber building."
The lawyer stood stock-still, and a wave of shock rippled through the crowd.
"Such allegations…" Edward seeped, his eyes mopey yet nervous. He was fighting himself and shuffling through emotions.
"This page…" Buxtehude slowly shook his head. "How can this… But with this we know everything. Everything. The lists! Are they accurate?! Is the page accurate?!"
The Professor suddenly realized the change of attitude in the lawyer: he now understood the repercussions of such a Book. All of the possibilities! What need was there for witnesses when one has the truth blatantly writing itself on demand?
"It is accurate," Layton began cautiously, "but it is without emotion; this list is simply the cold, hard facts. It fails to describe motives, and personal relationships between the two individuals. It's not human, so it cannot tell all. We need to be careful utilizing such a gift. And that's indeed what it is: a gift, and it shouldn't be abused."
Buxtehude wasn't listening. He nervously shuddered, and then eyed the Professor closely.
"That page… Let me assess it."
Hesitantly, the Professor gripped the page. "What do you plan on doing—"
"Exactly what you haven't done. You've paired every person on the planet with this fiend, except for one: Miss Haris. And that's the most important pairing we need."
"But—!"
He snatched the page, despite the Professor's protests (which were quieted by the Judge), and within moments, the man had read through hundreds of interactions between Edward and Laura. According to this page—the most black and white witness, the least likely to be influenced and swayed by human emotion, the truest witness of them all—Laura and Edward were two sides of the same coin, and their actions were painfully obvious. Sure, Laura and Edward themselves had given the same structure of details in their testimonies, but this page was cut and dry…and by the looks of things, the trial was unofficially wrapped up.
"I said you have to be careful!" Layton yelled. "You can't simply assess the whole situation with historical facts! You aren't taking into account—"
"Silence, Layton," Buxtehude snarled. "I'm done with this interrogation. The crucial evidence has been presented, and I thank you dearly. You've proved to be an incredibly helpful witness and asset in this trial, and I'm suggesting to the Judge—as the sole decision-maker of this whole thing—that Miss Haris is equally to blame as Mr. Chancey. Both are clearly destined to procure the same goals," he stabbed a finger into the Book's page, "and both are devoid of any remorse!"
"That's untrue! The very fact Laura sought me out and questioned Edward is reason enough to believe she wasn't involved in the same way Edward was!" the Professor shot back.
"Okay, so she had remorse that she'd made a pivotal mistake in her career, and was moving towards deeds more nefarious than she intended. But the damage was already done. As an accomplice, she's still involved!"
At this point, the two engaged in an outright shouting match, joined in by the Judge calling the lawyer and professor to end their verbal fray lest he use the bailiff (and thus, force). Laura sobbed uncontrollably and the crowd blurred. Everything had exploded into an unbelievable end, with the Professor becoming the very person to seal the fate of the prosecuted. She pressed her knuckles into her eyes, and slouched forward onto the table.
'I hate the Book of Memory… I wish I'd never given him a page, and we'd all drowned…'
She heard the Professor begging the Judge to assess more than the page's worth, to listen to Laura's testimony and integrate that with the facts. Her motives, Edward's motives…how would one pit their testimonies against something as concrete as the Book seemed to be?
Sounds melded together, and she couldn't make heads or tails of it anymore.
"YOU CAN'T ONLY LISTEN TO A STUPID MAGICAL PAGE, YOU IDIOTS! YOU'RE ALL A BUNCH OF—" Edward screamed somewhat inaudibly, promptly being escorted away by the police before anymore vulgarities could be rattled off. He'd clearly snapped after witnessing the turn of events.
Professor Layton stood his ground just before he felt a member of the law's hands grip him by the shoulders. It was merely a fly's tickle compared to the law's jaws which held him like a vise; it was dreadfully obvious he'd lost with the very object he trusted to save Laura, and now there was no recourse. He was prevented from doing any more good (or was it harm?).
He dismally faced the crowd, somberly let the officers escort him to the exit, and Judge Gravers—along with a pulsing vein in his forehead—demanded all persons be removed from the room until further notice.
END.
WHOA. YOU MADE IT. REVIEW. AND YES I KNOW IT'S A ROTTEN CHAPTER. Were there any discrepancies/inconsistancies?