Mackenzie Ford - The Clouds Beneath the Sun

Jack nodded. “I’m still on their education committee, yes. We have our hotheads, people who want to switch allegiance to the Russians, or the Soviets, as the Americans now call them. But even the hotheads can see that Western medicine is better than the Russian, and as for law, Russia isn’t exactly known for its justice system. You probably read that they’ve just introduced the death penalty for stealing state property, and they shoot forgers. So yes, I still think education is the key, to keep Kenya in the fold and to help it find its feet.”

Sandys nodded. “Good, good.” He looked at his watch again. “Before we begin the deposition, I have some big news for you.”

He had their attention.

“Ndekei hasn’t changed his plea, or anything fundamental like that, but instead what he has done is more provocative, more newsworthy, more racially sensitive, more potentially catastrophic, and possibly much more dangerous. He is going to run a defense—a defense that is beyond him, intellectually speaking, a defense that has been concocted by the political sophisticates among his tribal elders—to say that he was acting under tribal law and that, according to Maasai tradition, what he did was perfectly legal.”

“Jeeesus!” whispered Jack, looking at Natalie.

Sandys nodded. “It won’t work, of course, not in law. But that’s not the point; the point is … it makes the trial a political trial straight off. It pits black against white, colonialists against the tribes, the past against the future. It will have all the trappings of a show trial, a circus, which Natalie here will be caught slap in the middle of.”

He fixed her with his eye. “I will explain the details after the deposition, over lunch. You need to understand just what you are taking on, what the risks are.” He smiled. “Those risks are not negligible, but I’m sure you’ll be just fine and that Jack will help.”

He turned to Jack. “Maybe we could have a drink later?”

“I don’t see why not,” replied Jack. “At the club?”

Sandys nodded. “Say six? Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must get on with the deposition.”

He led the others out into the anteroom and then across to the corridor on the other side of the staircase, into a long conference chamber with a table and chairs, where two other men, one black, one white, were waiting.

“This is Hilary Hall, who will be leading the defense of Ndekei, and his junior counsel, Tombe Nshone, who comes from the same tribe as Mutevu.”

Hilary Hall had a pockmarked, rather red face, whereas Nshone was a tall, very handsome man, whose skin was made to seem all the blacker by his being dressed in a navy blue pinstripe suit and brilliant white shirt.

At a smaller table, to one side, sat a short woman wearing a dark blue dress. She had one of the new bottle-blonde hairstyles. In front of her was what looked like a small typewriter.

“This is Adele Compton, Dr. Nelson.” Sandys took a jug of water and some glasses from a sideboard and placed them on the main table. “She is the court stenographer and will record our conversation this morning.”

Both women exchanged nods.

“Would you like to sit there?” said Sandys, indicating a seat at the end of the table. “Hilary will sit one side and I the other. Jack, are you staying?”

“I don’t think so. You don’t need me, do you?”

“Not at all. In fact, it’s better if you’re not here.”

“How long will you be?”

“Two, two and a half hours. At the most.”

Jack made a face. “I don’t think I can get back before lunch—can you look after Natalie?”

“You’re going to risk leaving this beautiful woman with me?” Sandys smiled. “Don’t blame me if you don’t see her again.”

Jack chewed his lip with his teeth. “Dr. Nelson has been in the bush for some weeks, Max. Don’t blame me if you get your fingers burned.”

Natalie colored. Was she in the room or not?

Jack held out his hand to take her bag. “I’ll stop by at the hotel, and leave our luggage with the concierge.”

She handed her bag to him.

Jack made for the door. As he did so, Nshone said, “Dr. Deacon, I’ll come with you. There’s something I must discuss with you. Hilary doesn’t need me any more than Max needs you.”

They went out together.

And so, for the next two hours, she answered Sandys’s questions. The rival counsels—obviously old friends—were courteous with one another, with her, and with Mrs. Compton. No fresh information was revealed by these exchanges, and at about five to one, Sandys looked at his watch, rubbed his face with his hand, and said, “I think that about wraps it up. Hilary?”

Hall nodded, screwed the top on his pen, and leaned back in his chair. “Thank you, Dr. Nelson,” he said, smiling down at her. “That’s all very clear, I think. Max’s office will send you a transcript, for you to read and sign. We need trouble you no further.” He turned back to Sandys. “A good morning’s work, Max. I think that by the end of the week we should be ready to go to the judge and ask for a date. Agreed?”

“Absolutely.” Sandys had also been using a fountain pen, which he now slipped inside his jacket. “No need to delay more than is necessary, especially in the current climate.”

“My thinking exactly.” The camaraderie continued. Hall gathered his papers, stood up, and went out.

Sandys waited until he had disappeared. A commotion could be heard in the square outside.

“Now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

She shook her head. “I still wish I’d never seen Mutevu.” She turned in her seat. “Tell me one thing, because I’m confused. If Mutevu is going to argue that he was acting according to Maasai custom, then isn’t he admitting that he killed Richard, and if so why does my testimony matter? It seems to me that it doesn’t matter if I saw his face or just his shuffle, not if he is going to admit the killing.”

Sandys played with his tie. “Ah, yes, but the law doesn’t work like that. Or I should say court procedure, court practice doesn’t work like that. No one wants this trial to degenerate into a racial, black–white issue. So, given what became plain today, what will happen in the trial is this: At the very beginning, Ndekei will have the charge read to him and asked how he pleads. He will plead ‘not guilty’ but at that stage he doesn’t have to give his defense, his argument, just that he pleads not guilty. In law, he doesn’t have to reveal the nature of his defense until the prosecution’s case has been put. Then, after his plea, we—as the prosecution—will present our case, with you as the main witness. When our case has been put, and before Ndekei’s arguments are even heard, Hilary will almost certainly ask the judge to dismiss the charges, saying that since you never saw Ndekei’s face, there is not enough evidence to convict him. If the judge agrees, then Ndekei will be released, on the grounds of insufficient evidence, and the temperature—the political temperature—will be kept low.”

“And will that work? Is that what this morning was all about? Are you preparing to lose the case?”

“Not at all, not at all. I’m just explaining the system. It would be just the same if we were in London. We don’t know yet who the judge will be but we saw this morning that you will be an excellent witness—so the trial will proceed and only after we have put our case will Ndekei have to reveal his defense, that he was acting according to Maasai tradition. That will be explosive, but by then we will have spirited you away.”

Natalie looked over to the window. Where she was, she couldn’t see out. “If I’d just kept my mouth shut …”

Sandys leaned over and patted her knee. “You’ll be fine.”