John Matthews - Past Imperfect

'RPR. Rassemblement Pour la Republique — why?'

Barielle rode the question. 'And what political persuasion are you?'

'Socialist.'

Suddenly it hit Corbeix in a rush: himself Socialist, Fornier Socialist, Thibault complaining about political bias against his client; and now them both clearly spotlighted as having bent the rules. Give Thibault his due, bastard as he was, he'd sewn the package together well.

Thibault raised one hand. Barielle acknowledged. Corbeix expected Thibault's summation, his coup de grace.

But Thibault was holding out a booklet. 'Some interesting facts I think are also worthy of note about this particular illness, your justice.' Thibault started reading from the booklet: 'In severe cases, during episodic attacks, this will lead in turn to eye strain, vertigo, and may effect vital functions of the brain, causing memory loss and temporary fugue states.'

Corbeix felt his blood boil. He'd accepted that in a year or so he might be in a wheelchair, accepted that increasingly he'd lack the strength to lift his youngest daughter, that he'd have to soon sell his boat because even a short day trip would be too tiring — but what he wouldn't accept was this smarmy Paris advocate preaching what his illness entailed, what he might or might not be facing.

'… And given the effects of this disease on the brain, I think severe questions must be asked about Monsieur Corbeix' mental competence.' Thibault paused for effect. 'Or indeed, in this case, if he has allowed a combination of bias and mental impairment to colour his judgement in continuing.'

But Corbeix knew that to hammer home the point effectively, he'd have to stand, and he could feel the spasms biting deeper as he raised. He stole himself against the pain, feeling it pop beads of sweat on his forehead. He was determined not to let it show — provide a physical demonstration to support Thibault's claims. Fully upright, the spasms in his legs screamed to drag him back down. 'Monsieur Thibault is not a doctor. And I resent him taking up instruction time with amateur diagnosis. Particularly when it's my health that is at issue.'

'I was just trying to bring some clarity to-'

'I know what you were trying to do,' Corbeix cut in. 'You were challenging my mental competence to continue with this case. As it so happens, my mental competence is not affected. The effects described are only in extreme cases. I am far from that stage yet — and perhaps, God willing, I might never be at that stage. Your pathetic, amateur diagnosis is about as ridiculous and assumptive as me suggesting that three generations of inbreeding has made you the idiot you are today.'

'Gentlemen, please… please!' Barielle fought to regain order.

Corbeix threw in one last point. 'And as for Counseller Thibault's suggestion about political bias, if your justice please: this is as ridiculous as me challenging Thibault's right to represent Monsieur Duclos, purely because he too is RPR.'

Corbeix sat down. A last second, scrambled flourish, but would it be enough? Certainly earlier Thibault had done enough to convince Barielle of sufficient bias to call a mistrial.

Thibault quickly summarized the 'confronts' he'd raised: personal bias through family ties, political bias. Bias at every turn. And finally a question of physical competence: had Corbeix' judgement been sound, and would it still be so in three months? Alain Duclos' rights to a fair and even-handed trial had been severely compromised. Under the circumstances, Thibault would fully expect a mistrial to be ruled. Thibault sat down.

Barielle nodded curtly and continued for a moment with some notes. Corbeix' throat was dry; he found it difficult to swallow. Finally Barielle looked up to give his deliberation.

'…When is it that you are due to testify in France?'

'Tuesday week.'

'I understand that the trial procedure is very different there, and in effect this will be one of a series of preliminary hearings.'

'Yes, apparently so. I'll be asked to provide the background of PLR to support the link between the two boys. And later, if the case goes to full trial, I'll be called to provide pretty much the same information in front of a jury…'

Lunch time at Boehmier amp; Kemp, Washington, DC. The only quiet time of the day. Jennifer McGill decided to have a quick sandwich and use the time to catch up on the morning's paperwork. CNN flickered on a 16" screen in the background, the sound on low.

A name on the TV suddenly struck a chord, but she couldn't remember from where. She looked up abruptly from the file she was reading and turned up the sound. Larry King was on with a Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio look-alike who she hadn't seen before.

'… Even the pre-trial run up is apparently turning into something of a media circus in France. Claims of political bias have been made, and of course then we have Alain Duclos' central involvement with a landmark bio-technology case. Given this intense spotlight, no doubt you will face quite hostile challenges regarding the tenuous nature of PLR in evidence: how will you answer these?'

'By keeping firmly to the evidence and the facts in hand. The sessions I was involved with alone produced almost ninety pages of transcript, and over sixty pages of notes and transcripts were prepared by an associate psychiatrist even before my arrival…'

And then the name hit: Calvan. It wasn't one of her cases, it was being handled by Gerry Sterner. But she remembered a researcher from Paris being on to Gerry just a few days back.

She picked up the phone and buzzed switchboard. 'Susan? Is Gerry still there?'

'I think he's in the library. I'll ring through.'

Seconds later Sterner's voice came on the line. 'Yeah.'

'Gerry. Jennifer here. Get to the nearest TV — fast! Your Calvan woman's on with Larry King.'

Garbled thanks as Sterner darted two doors along to the coffee room. Two secretaries were watching Pacific Drive.

He grabbed the remote. 'Sorry. Sorry . Emergency!'

Larry King's image flicked on in profile. Trademark red braces. '… to your knowledge have there been any previous incidences where PLR evidence has been presented in a murder case?'

'Two in India — though only one made it to full trial. But this is the first case of its type in a society which inherently rejects the concept of reincarnation and PLR. And so in that respect…'

Sterner rushed from the room, grabbed the first telephone in the adjoining office. His secretary was out to lunch, so he raised reception. 'Susan, can you get me Jean-Paul Thibault at Guirannet amp; Fachaud in France. They'll be winding down for the day there, so you'll have to be quick.'

Could it be… could it really be?

Monique had decided even after the second tape, yes , purely because she couldn't think of any other rational explanation. Nobody else but Christian could possibly have known such depth of detail. Though still that initial wall of resistance; berating Dominic that she might accept some vague psychic link, but not that it was Christian re-born.

But with the continuing sessions and tapes and then the trial, though never mentioning anything to Dominic, her view had slowly changed. At first just through attaching Christian's voice to the descriptions on tape… the many poignant memories flooding back. But then she'd become curious about Eyran Capel.

Initially only casual questions when Dominic talked about the progress of the sessions and the case: What does the boy look like? Is there a resemblance to Christian? Does he remember anything while awake? No on every count, no image or magic picture in her mind to cling to, nothing except the voice on tape. Playing them repeatedly, asking for each additional tape equally as casually, trying not to give away the mounting intensity of her curiosity.