Brian Freemantle - The Namedropper

‘What are you going to do?’ asked Beckwith.

‘What little I can, which is very little indeed,’ said Reid. ‘Argue mitigation, in view of Appleton’s admitted adultery. That’s all I’ve got.’

‘What about Wolfson’s submission for Leanne’s dismissal?’

‘You’re right that I should seek a postponement,’ conceded Reid. ‘It’ll be too close behind yours and there’s no way of anticipating how much blood there’s going to be on the carpet when you’re through. I’ll enter the postponement application tomorrow.’

‘On what grounds?’

‘More time for preparation, in view of the lateness of their medical production.’

‘What if Pullinger demands details?

‘The medical stuff was late.’

‘And left you with nothing.’

‘And left me with practically nothing,’ agreed Reid. ‘You ever regret becoming a lawyer?’

‘Every time I lose,’ said Beckwith. ‘It doesn’t last.’

‘This time it will,’ said Reid. ‘This was my big one.’

‘It still will be.’

‘But for all the wrong reasons.’

‘You want another drink?’ invited Beckwith, his own glass empty.

‘It didn’t help yesterday and it won’t help today,’ refused Reid. ‘I already feel like shit without any outside help.’

‘She’s sticking to her story,’ Beckwith told Jordan. ‘It loses the case for her but gives us a hell of a good mitigation argument that’ll reduce any damages if Pullinger won’t dismiss you from the case altogether.’

It was 4 p.m., Jordan saw, glad of the extra time he’d had to prepare his explanation to his lawyer without disclosing his computer hacking. ‘Is Bob still with you?’

There was a momentary silence from the other end of the line. ‘No. Why? Didn’t you hear what I just said?’

‘I heard what you just said,’ assured Jordan, impatiently. ‘Did you actually read the results of Appleton and Leanne’s chlamydia consultations? Remember enough for a word for word comparison with what Abrahams supplied about me?’

‘What the fuck are we talking about now, Harvey?’

‘Did you?’

‘You’re not making a whole lot of sense,’ protested the lawyer.

‘Please answer what I’m asking you.’

‘Bob offered them to me, as I already told you. And I glanced at them. But no, I couldn’t quote either of them, word for word.’

‘I wasn’t given them to read: Bob paraphrased,’ Jordan pointed out.

‘They’re nothing to do with your part of the case.’

‘They were lying on Bob’s desk. And they were much shorter than what Dr Abrahams supplied in my case.’

‘Because I told him I wanted every detail that could possibly arise or be challenged. That’s what I’m trying to do: prevent you stumbling into a bear trap… which I think I now can, because of Alyce’s denials. Leave it, for Christ’s sake!’

‘According to the depositions, Appleton ended his relationship with Leanne Jefferies when, seven, eight, nine months ago?’ persisted Jordan, coming to his prepared reason for talking about the chlamydia reports.

‘I don’t have the papers before me. Eight, I guess. I can check, from the stuff I’ve brought down with me.’

‘And Leanne lives in Manhattan, right?’

‘I told you, I don’t have the papers before me: everything’s in my briefcases. You want me to look it up?’

‘I already have, from what’s been made available to me. Her apartment’s on East 106 Street.’

‘We soon going to get to wherever it is you’re heading, Harvey?’

‘Why does Leanne Jefferies, who lives in apartment 38b, 3200 East 106 Street, Manhattan, and who hasn’t had any relationship for eight months with Alfred Appleton, go all the way up to Haymarket Square, Boston – where the Appleton’s are one of the most respected of founding families – to undergo a medical examination to establish her sexual cleanliness?’

The silence this time from Beckwith’s end of the telephone was much longer than before. Finally the lawyer conceded: ‘I don’t know.’

‘Wouldn’t it be a good idea for someone to ask her, preferably in court? And for us to compare everything Abrahams said about me with what their specialists wrote about Appleton and Leanne?’

‘I’ll call Bob at home, now. Arrange a meeting for tomorrow.’

Harvey Jordan isolated the discrepancy within fifteen minutes, which was hardly surprising as he was the only one among the three of them to have studied the entire and detailed computer notes of Dr Mark Chapman and Dr Jane Lewell and knew his own venerealogist’s assessment practically verbatim.

‘Antigens!’ declared Jordan, straightening up from his comparison of the court-presenting dossiers of the three American doctors. The fourth, prepared by the English specialist, James Preston, was also on the table, although to one side and not part of the main comparison.

‘What?’ demanded Beckwith.

‘Antigens,’ repeated Jordan, isolating the reference in George Abrahams’ deposition, copies of which were before both lawyers to compare against those on Appleton and Leanne Jefferies, which were also in front of them. ‘And doesn’t that turn everything on its head!’

‘It might if we understood what in God’s name you were talking about,’ complained Reid.

Beckwith had warned Jordan of Reid’s overnight resentment – initially rejecting outright the suggestion of another meeting between them – at the possibility of Jordan’s further criticism, and there’d been a discernible hostility during the half an hour they’d already spent together. Uncaring, Jordan insisted, ‘See the mention, in what Abrahams wrote…?’ His finger traced the passage.

‘I’m there,’ confirmed Beckwith.

Reid nodded, without speaking.

‘Now, go on,’ urged Jordan, quoting, ‘“The patient’s blood, which is group O, was subjected to further, microbiological haematological examination to establish the presence, if any, of chlamydia antigens, which would have remained present if the patient had suffered the venereal infection but undergone successful antibiotic curative treatment. There was a complete absence of chlamydia antigens, which confirms the patient, Harvey Jordan, had never been a sufferer…’” He looked up, inviting a reaction.

None came from either lawyer, both of whom were moving between the three separate papers. He had to be careful not to give any indication of having seen the case notes, Jordan reminded himself. He said, ‘There’s no reference in the reports, from either Appleton or Leanne’s specialists, of antigens. Or of an examination of their blood to look for them. Appleton’s says: “haematological examination found no evidence of the chlamydia bacteria in the patient’s A blood grouping.” Leanne’s specialist says: “The patient’s blood, which is of the AB type, was completely clear of any chlamydia infection.” But there’s no indication of any microbiological tests to prove that neither Appleton nor Leanne didn’t have antigens in their blood, which would be the medical proof that they never suffered from it.’

Beckwith came up from his frowned comparison, his face clearing. ‘You’re right! Their depositions only prove that Appleton and Leanne are clear now!’

‘And it does turn everything on its head,’ agreed the finally smiling Reid. ‘The most important being that Alyce could be telling the truth after all.’

Beckwith wasn’t smiling, though. To Jordan he said, ‘You did well, picking up on the omission. Well for Alyce. But not so well for yourself. If Alyce hasn’t been sleeping around the defence I intended against your criminal conversation claims goes out the window.’

‘Does it?’ demanded Jordan. ‘What about what else we’ve already talked about this morning comparing the depositions, which were so late being delivered that you, Bob, think they’re grounds for a postponement? Aren’t you a tad curious that Leanne’s medical report was prepared by a Boston venerealogist, not one far more conveniently located in Manhattan? I am.’