Jeffrey Archer - A Prisoner Of Birth

Desmond Galbraith rose from his place. "My lord, my client and I for our part accept that the only disagreement between the two parties concerns the second will, which as you have stated we are in no doubt was Sir Alexander's last Will and Testament. We offer the will and the attached letter as proof of our claim, and we would also like to present a witness who we believe will put this matter to rest once and for all."

"By all means," said Mr. Justice Sanderson. "Please call your witness."

"I call Professor Nigel Fleming," said Galbraith, looking toward the door.

Danny leaned across and asked Mr. Munro if he knew the professor. "Only by reputation," Munro replied as a tall, elegant man with a full head of gray hair walked into the room. As he took the oath, Danny thought that the professor reminded him of the sort of visiting dignitary who used to come to Clement Attlee Comprehensive once a year to present the prizes-though never to him.

"Please have a seat, Professor Fleming," said Mr. Justice Sanderson.

Galbraith remained standing. "Professor, I feel it is important for the court to be made aware of the expertise and authority you bring to this case, so I hope you will forgive me if I ask you a few questions concerning your background."

The professor gave a slight bow.

"What is your present position?"

"I am the Professor of Inorganic Chemistry at Edinburgh University."

"And have you written a book on the relevance of that field to crime, which has become the standard work on the subject and is taught as part of the legal syllabus in most universities?"

"I cannot speak for most universities, Mr. Galbraith, but that is certainly the case at Edinburgh."

"Have you in the past, professor, represented several governments to advise them on disputes of this nature?"

"I would not wish to overstate my authority, Mr. Galbraith. I have on three occasions been called in by governments to advise them on the validity of documents when a disagreement has arisen between two or more nations."

"Quite so. Then let me ask you, professor, if you have ever given evidence in court when the validity of a will has been called into question?"

"Yes, sir, on seventeen separate occasions."

"And will you tell the court, professor, how many of those cases ended with a judgment that supported your findings."

"I would not for a moment suggest the verdicts given in those cases were solely determined by my evidence."

"Nicely put," said the judge with a wry smile. "However, professor, the question is, how many of the seventeen verdicts backed up your opinion?"

"Sixteen, sir," replied the professor.

"Please continue, Mr. Galbraith," said the judge.

"Professor, have you had the opportunity to study the late Sir Alexander Moncrieff's will, which is at the center of this case?"

"I have studied both wills."

"Can I ask you some questions about the second will?" The professor nodded. "Is the paper on which the will is written of a type that would have been available at that time?"

"What time is that precisely, Mr. Galbraith?" asked the judge.

"November 1998, my lord."

"Yes it is," replied the professor. "It is my belief, based on scientific evidence, that the paper is the same vintage as that used for the first will, which was executed in 1997."

The judge raised an eyebrow, but didn't interrupt. "Was the red ribbon attached to that second will also of the same vintage?" asked Galbraith.

"Yes. I carried out tests on both ribbons, and it turned out that they were produced at the same time."

"And were you, professor, able to come to any conclusion about Sir Alexander's signature as it appears on both wills?"

"Before I answer that question, Mr. Galbraith, you must understand that I am not a calligraphic expert, but I can tell you that the black ink used by the signatory was manufactured some time before 1990."

"Are you telling the court," asked the judge, "that you are able to date a bottle of ink to within a year of its production?"

"Sometimes within a month," said the professor. "In fact, I would submit that the ink used for the signature on both wills came from a bottle manufactured by Waterman's in 1985."

"And now I should like to turn to the typewriter used for the second will," said Mr. Galbraith. "What make was it, and when did it first come on to the market?"

"It is a Remington Envoy II, which came on to the market in 1965."

"So just to confirm," added Galbraith, "the paper, the ink, the ribbon and the typewriter were all in existence before November 1998."

"Without question, in my judgment," said the professor.

"Thank you, professor. If you would be kind enough to wait there, I have a feeling that Mr. Munro will have some questions for you."

Munro rose slowly from his place. "I have no questions for this witness, my lord."

The judge did not react. However, the same could not be said of Galbraith, who stared at his opposite number in disbelief. Hugo Moncrieff asked his wife to explain the significance of Munro's words, while Danny looked straight ahead, showing no emotion, just as Munro had instructed him to do.

"Will you be presenting any other witnesses, Mr. Galbraith?" asked the judge.

"No, my lord. I can only assume that my learned friend's refusal to cross-examine Professor Fleming means that he accepts his findings." He paused. "Without question."

Munro didn't rise, in any sense of the expression.

"Mr. Munro," said the judge, "do you wish to make an opening statement?"

"Briefly, if it so pleases your lordship," said Munro. "Professor Fleming has confirmed that Sir Alexander's first Will and Testament, made in favor of my client, is indisputably authentic. We accept his judgment in this matter. As you stated at the beginning of this hearing, my lord, the only question which concerns this court is the validity or otherwise of the second will, which-"

"My lord," said Galbraith, jumping up from his place. "Is Mr. Munro suggesting to the court that the expertise the professor applied to the first will can conveniently be discounted when it comes to his opinion of the second?"

"No, my lord," said Munro. "Had my learned friend shown a little more patience, he would have discovered that that is not what I am suggesting. The professor told the court that he was not an expert on the authenticity of signatures-"

"But he also testified, my lord," said Galbraith, leaping up again, "that the ink used to sign both of the wills came from the same bottle."

"But not from the same hand, I would suggest," said Munro.

"Will you be calling a calligraphy expert?" asked the judge.

"No, my lord, I will not."

"Do you have any evidence to suggest that the signature is a forgery?"

"No, my lord, I do not," repeated Munro.

This time the judge did raise an eyebrow. "Will you be calling any witnesses, Mr. Munro, in support of your case?"

"Yes, my lord. Like my esteemed colleague, I will be calling only one witness." Munro paused for a moment, aware that, with the exception of Danny, who didn't even blink, everyone in the room was curious to know who this witness could possibly be. "I call Mr. Gene Hunsacker."

The door opened, and the vast frame of the Texan ambled slowly into the room. Danny felt that something wasn't right, then realized that it was the first time he'd seen Hunsacker without his trademark cigar.

Hunsacker took the oath, his voice booming around the small room.

"Please have a seat, Mr. Hunsacker," said the judge. "As we are such a small gathering, perhaps we might address each other in more conversational tones."

"I'm sorry, your honor," said Hunsacker.

"No need to apologize," said the judge. "Please proceed, Mr. Munro."

Munro rose from his place and smiled at Hunsacker. "For the record, would you be kind enough to state your name and occupation?"