Cometh the Hour: A Novel (36 page)

Carman wanted to say yes I most certainly do, my lord, but he wasn’t sure on what grounds he could possibly object to the Crown’s principal witness giving further testimony. “I have no objection, my lord, although I am curious to know what fresh evidence can have arisen over the weekend.”

“Let’s find out, shall we?” said the judge. He nodded to the clerk.

“Call Mr. David Collier!”

The senior customs officer entered the room and returned to the witness box. Nothing could be gleaned from the expression on his face. The judge reminded him that he was still under oath.

“Good morning, Mr. Collier,” said Gray. “Can I confirm that you appear on this occasion at your own request and not as a witness for the prosecution?”

Sebastian couldn’t help noticing that Mr. Gray had put aside his earlier adversarial manner with this witness in favor of a more conciliatory tone.

“That is correct, sir.”

“And why do you wish to reappear?”

“I feared that if I didn’t, a grave injustice might be done.”

Once again, loud chattering broke out in the court. Mr. Gray made no attempt to continue until silence prevailed.

“Perhaps you would care to elaborate, Mr. Collier.”

“On Friday evening I had a call from a senior colleague in Frankfurt to brief me on a recent case in that city, which he felt I should know about. In the course of that conversation I discovered the reason Mrs. Aisha Obgabo, the stewardess on flight 207, had only been able to present written evidence to this court.”

“And what was the reason?” asked Mr. Gray.

“She’s in jail, serving a six-year sentence for a Class A drug offense.”

This time the judge made no attempt to quell the outburst of chattering caused by Collier’s revelation.

“And why should that have any bearing on this case?” asked Mr. Gray, once order had been restored.

“It seems that a few weeks after Bishara’s arrest, Mrs. Obgabo was arrested for being in possession of two ounces of marijuana.”

“Is marijuana considered a Class A drug in Germany?” asked the judge incredulously.

“No, my lord. For that offense, the judge gave Mrs. Obgabo a six-month suspended sentence and ordered that she be deported back to Nigeria.”

“Then why wasn’t she?” demanded the judge.

“Because during the trial it came to light that Mrs. Obgabo had been having an affair with the captain of the aircraft on which she was a stewardess. If she had been sent back to Nigeria, my lord, she would have been arrested for adultery and, if found guilty, the punishment in that country is death by stoning. So at the end of the trial, when the judge asked her if she wished for any other offenses to be taken into consideration before he passed sentence, she admitted to being paid a large sum of money to place thirteen ounces of heroin in the bag of a first-class passenger on a Nigeria Airways flight from Lagos to London. Mrs. Obgabo couldn’t recall the name of the passenger, but she did remember that the bag she placed the heroin in was embossed in gold with the initials HB. For this offense, the judge sentenced Mrs. Obgabo to six years in prison, which her lawyer assured her was more than enough time for her to apply for asylum as a political refugee.”

This time the judge accepted that he would have to wait a little longer before the court returned to any semblance of order. He sat back in his chair, while several journalists fled the court in search of the nearest telephone.

Sebastian noticed that for the first time the jury were looking at the prisoner in the dock, and several of them were even smiling at Hakim. What he didn’t notice was Adrian Sloane slipping quietly out of the gallery. Mr. Gray remained standing but made no attempt to speak until order had once again been restored.

“Thank you, Mr. Collier, for your integrity and sense of public duty. If I may say so, you bring considerable credit to your profession.” Mr. Gray closed his file, looked up at the judge and said, “I have no more questions, my lord.”

“Do you have any questions for this witness, Mr. Carman?” asked the judge.

Carman went into a huddle with the Crown’s team before looking up at the judge and saying, “No, my lord. Although I must confess I find it somewhat ironic that it was I who pointed out to your lordship that this witness’s credentials were beyond reproach.”

“Chapeau, Mr. Carman,” said the judge, touching his full-bottomed wig.

“And with that in mind, my lord,” continued Carman, “the Crown withdraws all charges against the defendant.” Mr. Carman sat down to a burst of applause from the public gallery.

Journalists continued scribbling furiously. Seasoned court officials tried not to reveal any emotion, while the prisoner in the dock simply looked dazed by what was happening all around him. Mr. Justice Urquhart appeared to be the one person in the room who remained totally calm. He turned his attention to the man who was still standing in the dock and said, “Mr. Bishara, the Crown has withdrawn all of the charges against you. You are therefore released from custody and are free to leave the court, and, I must add, without a blemish on your reputation.”

Sebastian leapt in the air and threw his arms around Ross, as the two leading QCs bowed to each other with mock gravity before shaking hands.

“As we appear to have the rest of the day off, George,” said Gilly Gray, “perhaps you’d care to join me for lunch and a round of golf?”

38

“W
ELCOME BACK, CHAIRMAN
.”

“Thank you, Ross,” said Hakim, as he took his seat behind the chairman’s desk for the first time in five months. “But in truth, I don’t know how to begin to thank you for all you’ve done, not just for me personally but, more importantly, for the bank.”

“I didn’t do it on my own,” said Ross. “You’ve got a damned fine team here at Farthings, led by Sebastian, who’s been putting in hours that aren’t on a clock.”

“Arnold tells me I’m also responsible for messing up his private life.”

“I think you’ll find things have thawed a little on that front.”

“Would it help if I wrote to Samantha and explained why Seb had to leave Washington at such short notice?”

“She already knows. But it couldn’t do any harm.”

“Is there anyone else in particular I ought to thank?”

“The whole team couldn’t have been more supportive, but Giles Barrington deciding to join the board when he did sent a clear message to friend and foe alike.”

“I owe so much to the Barrington family, it will be almost impossible to repay them.”

“They don’t think like that, chairman.”

“That’s their strength.”

“And your foes’ weakness.”

“On a happier note, did you see where our shares opened this morning?”

“Nearly back to where they were the day before—” Ross hesitated.

“—I went to prison. And Jimmy Goldsmith called me earlier this morning to say he’ll be releasing his stock slowly onto the market over the next six months.”

“He should make a handsome profit.”

“No one will begrudge him that, bearing in mind the risk he took when most people assumed we were going under.”

“Of whom Adrian Sloane is a prime example. Unfortunately he’ll also make a killing, and for all the wrong reasons.”

“Well, at least he won’t be able to claim a seat on the board once he’s cashed in his shares. Mind you, I would have paid good money to be at the board meeting when Jimmy told Sloane exactly what he thought of him.”

“I think you’ll find it’s recorded in some detail in the minutes, chairman.”

“It most certainly is, but I wish the conversation had been taped, so I could replay it—” he paused—“again and again.”

“Sloane wasn’t the only person who abandoned what some assumed was a sinking ship. You won’t be surprised to hear that one or two old customers are now trying to climb back on board. ‘I was never in any doubt, old boy.’”

“I hope you made those old boys walk the plank, one by one,” said Hakim with feeling.

“I didn’t go quite that far, chairman. However, I made it clear that they might not be offered quite the same advantageous terms they’d enjoyed in the past.”

Hakim burst out laughing. “You know, Ross, there are times when I could do with a modicum of your wisdom and diplomacy.” The chairman’s tone of voice changed. “Dare I ask if we’re any nearer to finding out who paid the stewardess to plant the heroin in my bag?”

“Barry Hammond says he’s got it down to a short list of three.”

“I presume one of them has to be Desmond Mellor.”

“Aided and abetted by Adrian Sloane and Jim Knowles. But Barry’s warned me that it won’t be easy to prove.”

“It would have been impossible without the help of Mr. Collier, who could so easily have chosen to say nothing, and save face. I’m indebted to him. Perhaps we should send him and his wife on a Barrington’s cruise to the Bahamas.”

“I don’t think so, chairman. David Collier plays everything by the book. Even when Barry took him to lunch to thank him for all he’d done, he insisted on splitting the bill. No, I suggest a letter of thanks and, as he’s a huge Dickens fan, perhaps a complete Nonesuch edition?”

“What a brilliant idea.”

“Not mine. Once again you can thank Barry Hammond for that particular insight. Those two have become thick as thieves and go to watch Wasps together every Saturday afternoon.”

“Wasps?” asked Hakim, looking puzzled.

“A London rugby club they’ve both supported for years.”

“What do you suggest I do about thanking Barry properly?

“I’ve already paid him the bonus you agreed, if you were found innocent, and he’s still working on who arranged for the stewardess to plant those drugs in your bag. But he refuses to give me any details until he’s nailed the bastard.”

“Typical Barry.”

“He also tells me that you’ve asked him to make further enquiries about Kristina Bergström, which puzzled me, chairman, because I was convinced she was telling the truth, and I can’t see any purpose in—”

“Now that you’re no longer chairman, Ross, what are your immediate plans?”

Although the sudden change of subject wasn’t subtle, Ross played along. “Jean and I are going on holiday to Burma, a country we’ve always wanted to visit. And when we get back to Scotland, we intend to spend the rest of our days in a cottage near Gullane that has stunning views over the Firth of Forth, and just happens to be adjoining Muirfield golf course, where I will spend many happy hours working on my handicap.”

“I’m not following you, Ross.”

“Which is a good thing, chairman, because you’d only end up in the deep rough. Equally importantly, Gullane is on the south shore of the Firth, where the trout are about to discover I’m back with a vengeance.”

“So am I to understand there’s nothing I can say to persuade you to stay on the board?”

“Not a hope. You’ve already had my letter of resignation, and if I’m not on the
Flying Scotsman
this evening I don’t know which one of us Jean will kill first.”

“You I can handle, but not Jean. Does that mean you’ve closed the deal on that idyllic cottage you told me about?”

“Almost,” said Ross. “I still have to sell my flat in Edinburgh before I can sign the contract.”

“Please give Jean my love and tell her how grateful I am that she allowed you to come out of retirement for five months. Have a wonderful time in Burma, and thank you once again.” Ross was about to shake hands with the chairman when Hakim threw his arms around him and gave him a bear hug, something the Scotsman had never experienced before.

Once Ross had left, Hakim walked across to the window and waited until he saw him leave the building and hail a taxi. He then returned to his desk and asked his secretary to get Mr. Vaughan of Savills on the line.

“Mr. Bishara, good to hear from you. Can I possibly interest you in a duplex flat in Mayfair, prime location, excellent park views—”

“No, Mr. Vaughan, you cannot. But you could sell me a flat in Edinburgh that I know has been on your books for several months.”

“We’ve already got a bid for Mr. Buchanan’s property in Argyll Street, but it’s still a couple of thousand shy of the asking price.”

“Fine, then take it off the market, sell it to the underbidder and I’ll cover the shortfall.”

“We’re talking a couple of thousand pounds, Mr. Bishara.”

“Cheap at double the price,” said Hakim.

GILES BARRINGTON

1976–1977

39

T
HE
G
OVERNOR
’
S
O
FFICE

June 12th, 1976

Dear Lord Barrington

You may not remember me but we met some twelve years ago, on the Buckingham’s maiden voyage to New York. At that time I was a congressman for the eleventh district of Louisiana, better known as Baton Rouge. Since then, I’ve become State Governor, and have recently been reelected to serve a second term. May I congratulate you on your own return to the Cabinet as Leader of the Lords.

I’m writing to let you know that I will be in London for a few days toward the end of July, and wondered if you could spare the time to see me on a private matter, concerning a close friend, constituent and major backer of my party.