Read QB VII Online

Authors: Leon Uris

QB VII (26 page)

Thomas Bannister’s name was synonymous with impeccable integrity even in a place where integrity was commonplace. A confirmed bachelor, he lived in an apartment in Inner Temple.

After having served successfully as a minister, he was in line to be the party’s next leader. Bannister’s name was spoken more and more often.

The two foxes, Wilcox and Josephson, fenced about in traditional protocol.

“Well, what have you got, Mr. Josephson?”

“Big one, indeed.”

Which brought on lovely thoughts of his commission. Wilcox continued to play it terribly cool.

“We are solicitors for Abraham Cady, defendant against Sir Adam Kelno.”

“That is a juicy morsel, all right. Didn’t think he would defend that. Well, which of my gentlemen do you have in mind?”

“Thomas Bannister.”

“Come now, you can’t be serious.”

“Extremely serious.”

“I could do right well by you with Devon. Brightest junior I’ve seen in the last twenty years.”

“We want Bannister. Any barrister is obliged to fight any case so long as his fees are met.”

“Don’t be unreasonable,” Wilcox said “I’ve never barred anyone from your offices or any other solicitor. This could affect Bannister’s whole career.

“I’m afraid I have to say that I understand.”

9

“N
IGHTCAP,
T
OM?

“I’d love it.”

The chauffeur held the door open. Lady Wydman emerged followed by Thomas Bannister. “Morgan, wait for Mr. Bannister and take him back to The Temple.”

“Oh, please let him go. I’d love to walk about a bit and take a taxi back. I don’t get much chance to walk around London, these days.”

“As you wish.

“Good night, ma’am, Mr. Bannister. When will you be needing me?”

“Not till noon. I have a fitting at Dior.”

She handed Bannister a cognac. He warmed and paced the floor characteristically. “Cheers. “

“Cheers”

“Lovely evening, Sarah. I can’t remember when I’ve enjoyed one more. I’m a cad for neglecting you and forcing you to ask me out but the work load has been extremely heavy.

“I certainly understand, Tom.”

“Lucky for me I can’t turn you down.”

“I hope not,” she said.

Bannister sat and let his legs stretch. “Now that you’ve wined and dined me, I would like to know what particular thing you’re going to ask of me that I can’t turn you down for.”

“It’s the libel suit between Sir Adam Kelno and Abraham Cady. I’m certain you know why I would be interested. Jacob Alexander is representing Cady.”

Bannister’s usual deadpan betrayed him. “Didn’t I see Josephson in my chambers a few days ago?”

“Yes. We’re having trouble getting to you these days. I think the party wants to put you in plastic and deep freeze you until the elections.”

“I’ve raised hell about this with them before. I wonder what kind of prime minister they think I’ll make by ducking controversies.”

“Will you look into it, then?”

“Of course.”

“One thing, Tom, if you decide to take the case they’re going to be hard-pressed. It’s the kind of thing a single man ought not to be asked to fight. Rather something that a great corporation or a government would undertake.”

Bannister smiled. His smiles were small and infrequent and, therefore, twice as meaningful. “You are heavy in this. Tell me, Sarah, what kind of a chap is this Abraham Cady?”

“Manners of a dock worker in a boardinghouse, idealistic as a naive child, bellows like a bull, drinks like a fish, and tender as a lamb. He’s no English gentleman.”

“Yes, writers can be like that. Strange breed.”

One could not escape the feeling he was entering a holy place when he climbed the ancient stone steps of the Paper Buildings toward the chambers of Thomas Bannister.

His room was a bit more dandy than that of his fellow barristers. Richly and tastefully furnished save the gaudy portable electric heaters on the floor.

Bannister and Cady, two trained professionals, sized each other up as Alexander observed tensely.

“Well,” Thomas Bannister said, “Kelno did it all right. We’re not going to let him get away with it, are we?”

There was visible relief.

“We are all aware of how enormous and difficult the task ahead is going to be. Most of the burden in the next year will fall on yon, Alexander.”

“It shall receive my full energies and we are not without allies.”

“Gentlemen,” Abe said, “I believe I have the finest representation possible. I have no intention of telling you how to conduct this case. But, there is one condition. Under no circumstances is Pieter Van Damm to testify. I know this places an added weight on us, but I think I’d rather lose. It’s my first and only order.”

Alexander and Bannister looked at each other and mulled it along. Their admiration was confused by taking their stron
g
est legal point from them. Yet, it’s all on principle, isn’t it, Bannister thought. I rather like this Cady chap. “We shall do our best,” Bannister said.

“Must you really leave tomorrow?” Lady Wydman asked Abe.

“I want to see Ben in Israel. Vanessa is coming home with me. I’ve got to get to work.”

“I’m going to miss you like the devil,” she said.

“Me too,”

“Can I make a tiny scene?”

“You’re a girl. It’s your prerogative.

“You know I adore you, but I’m too damned proud to be just another item in your collection, and I know I would be very silly, and fall in love with you, and be a jealous sow throwing temper tantrums bargaining for a commitment, and do all those bloody stupid things women do that I detest. I know I can’t handle you and it really aggravates me.”

“That’s very good for my morale,” he said, taking both her hands. “I’ve got a problem, Sarah. I’m not capable of giving all the love I have to a woman, only to my children. And I’m not capable of receiving the kind of love a woman like you has. I can’t commit, even in a game. What we have here between you and me are two chiefs and no Indians.”

“Abe.”

“Yes.”

“You’ll need me when you come back for the trial. I’ll keep you warm.”

“O.K.”

She flung her arms about him. “Oh, I’m lying. I’m crazy about you, you bastard”

He held her very gently. “The first time I saw you I knew there was something very special about you. You are a lady. A gentleman leaves a lady with her dignity.”

“Have my bill prepared. I’ll be leaving for the airport in an hour or so.”

“Yes, Mr. Cady. It’s been a pleasure to have you with us. Oh, sir, some of the staff brought copies of your book. Would you mind terribly signing them, sir?”

“Sure. Send them up to my room and stick a piece of paper with their name in each book.”

“Thank you, Mr. Cady. There’s a gentleman waiting for you in the bar.”

Abe took a seat opposite Shawcross slowly and ordered a scotch with ice.

“I changed my mind,” Shawcross said.

“Why?” Abe asked.

“Don’t know really. Pieter Van Damm hasn’t left my thoughts. Well, Abe, I mean fair play is fair play. It’s the only proper thing to do. Damn it all, I am an Englishman.”

“L’Chiam.”

“Cheers. You give Ben and Vanessa my love, will you, and when you get back to Sausalito don’t worry yourself about Kelno, get cracking on that novel of yours as soon as you can.”

“Shut up for a minute, will you.” Abe pondered. “Shawcross, you’re what the Lord had in mind when he made publishers.”

“Very kind of you to say. You know I told Geoff and Pam and Cecil I was going to go it with you. They withdrew their resignations. They’re standing by me.”

“It doesn’t surprise me. They’re decent people. Before this is all over with a lot of men and women are going to have to show what they’re made of.”

10

February 1966

S
IR
A
DAM
K
ELNO’S PAPER WAS
studiously received and deeply respected by the Royal College of Surgeons in Edinburgh. Not an inspired speaker or fully in command of English, he was, nonetheless, an eminent authority on malnutrition, administration of mass medicine, and human durability under duress.

Although his personal practice continued modestly in Southwark among working class patients, he wrote and lectured at length in his specialty.

Speaking at the facility in Edinburgh always came as an added pleasure and he scheduled those lectures so he could combine the trip with a motor holiday.

Once cleared of the population center, the wildness and emptiness of the central lowlands fled by the window. Angela turned up the heater and poured some hot tea from the thermos. Adam could drive all day in the morbidity of Scotland with total enjoyment of the respite from the long hours in London.

They slowed for a thatched roof barren village, where black Angus cluttered the main street and a pair of husky Scots on horseback herded them toward the pasture.

The smell of dung penetrated into the car.

For a moment Adam was in Poland in his own village. It was not like this. His village had been flatter and greener and poorer and even more primitive. But all countryside and all peasants and all their villages stirred a sting of memory.

A third horseman clip-clopped in front of the car, bringing him to a complete halt There was a boy of perhaps twelve on the horse and a pair of dogs raced at the ankles of the cows.

SO THERE I AM AND THAT BEAST OF A MAN OVER THE ROAD WOULD BE MY FATHER. OH, THAT POOR BOY. WHAT CHANCE DOES HE HAVE IN THIS PLACE? WHAT CHANCE DID I HAVE? AND MY FATHER WITH A MIND AS BLEAK AS THE ROCKS IN THE LONELY FIELDS.
SPUR YOUR HORSE, LAD! SPUR IT AND GALLOP OFF. RUN TO THE CITY AND SAVE YOURSELF.
I HATE YOU, FATHER!

Adam shifted into low gear and inched his way behind the cattle.

I HIDE IN THE HAY. MY FATHER STOMPS INTO THE BARN AND ROARS MY NAME. HE KICKS THE HAY AWAY AND JERKS ME TO MY FEET. I CAN SMELL THE STINK OF ALCOHOL AND GARLIC FROM HIM. HE KICKS ME TO MY KNEES AND BEATS ME UNTIL HE MUST STOP AND WHEEZE TO CATCH HIS BREATH.
HE SITS ACROSS THE TABLE FROM ME REEKING WITH HIS ODORS AND REELING. THE BORSCHT AND MEAT SLITHER DOWN HIS CAKED BEARD AS HE STUFFS HIS MOUTH LIKE AN ANIMAL. HE BELCHES AND LICKS HIS FINGERS AND COMPLAINS THAT HE OWES THE VILLAGE JEW MONEY. EVERYONE IN THE VILLAGE OWES MONEY TO THE JEW.
HE GRABS ME, SHAKES ME, AND LAUGHS AT MY FEAR. WHY DOESN’T HE BEAT MY BROTHERS AND SISTERS? WHY ONLY ME? BECAUSE MY MOTHER LOVES ME THE MOST, THAT’S WHY.
THROUGH THE CRACKS IN THE WALL THAT SEPARATE OUR ROOMS I SEE HIM STANDING NAKED. HIS PENIS IS ENORMOUS AND BLACK AND UGLY AND FILLED WITH VEINS. IT GLISTENS FROM WHAT CAME OUT OF MY MOTHER. HE SCRATCHES IT AND PLAYS WITH HIS HUGE HANGING TESTICLES.
I HATE HIS PENIS AND TESTICLES! IT MAKES MY MOTHER CRY WHEN HE DOES IT TO HER. HE GRUNTS LIKE A PIG WHEN HE IS ON HER.
IF I HAD MY WAY I’D TAKE A ROCK AND SMASH HIS TESTICLES. I’D CUT THEM OFF WITH A KNIFE.
I WANT TO SLEEP CUDDLED WITH MY MOTHER. LIKE SHE USED TO DO BEFORE I GREW TOO OLD. HER BREASTS WERE LARGE AND WARM AND I COULD BURY MY FACE IN THEM AND TOUCH THEM WITH MY FINGERS. SHE DOESN’T MIND BECAUSE I AM STILL LITTLE. I RUN AND HIDE IN HER SKIRTS AND SHE LIFTS ME TO HER AND HOLDS ME AGAINST HER BREASTS.
THEN HE WILL FIND ME AND PULL ME AWAY FROM HER AND SHAKE ME AND BEAT ME. I AM ALWAYS FILLED WITH BRUISES.
I MUST RUN TO THE CITY, WHERE HE CAN NEVER FIND ME AGAIN.
THE SNOW COVERS THE GROUND AND I STAND BY MY MOTHER’S GRAVE. HE KILLED HER, AS THOUGH WITH HIS OWN HANDS.
HE IS OLD NOW AND UNABLE TO BEAT ME AND HIS FILTHY ORGANS NO LONGER FUNCTION.

“Adam! Adam!”

“What? Eh ... eh ...”

“Adam!”

“What?”

“You are speeding. You’re driving almost a hundred miles an hour.”

“Oh, sorry. My mind must have wandered.”

The clinic was filled, as usual, but Terrence Campbell was down from Oxford for a few days so things were right. Terry would begin his medical training in Guy’s Hospital in the fall. It would be so wonderful to have him always close at hand. The boy worked with him through the day giving shots, doing lab work, taking tests, consulting his guardian on diagnosis. He was a born physician.

The last of the patients were gone and they retired to his office.

“What do you make of this,” Adam said, putting an X-ray to the light.

Terry studied it “Shadows. A spot. T.B.?”

“I’m suspicious of cancer.”

Terry looked at the name on the envelope. “That poor woman has five children.”

“Cancer has no conscience,” Dr. Kelno answered.

“I know, but what will happen to the children? They’ll have to go to an orphanage.”

“I have been wanting to talk to you about this sort of thing. It is the one part of medicine where you show a marked weakness. In order to be a good physician you must build an intellectual reservoir that will enable you to stand the sight of a dead friend. The physician who gets emotionally involved with his patients cannot exist long.”

Terry shook his head that he understood but continued to stare at the X-ray.

“Well, on the other hand, she may not have cancer and if she does it may not be terminal. There’s something else I want to show you.” He opened his desk drawer and handed Terry a legal document with a check attached to it, in the amount of nine hundred pounds.

“What is it?”

“An apology from the printers to be read in open court. What is more, the solicitor for Shawcross has been in touch with Richard Smiddy to negotiate a settlement. I understand that Cady was in London and left rather frantically.”

“Thank God it will soon be over,” Terry said.

“I’m glad you helped make me do it, you and Stephen. I’m going after Cady. I will take him to task in every country where his filthy book was published. The Americans in particular will pay dearly.”

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