CHAPTER THIRTEEN
MR. PEARSON'S CLERK phoned Mr. Justice Sackville's clerk at one minute past nine the following morning. Mr. Justice Sackville's clerk said he would pass on Mr. Pearson's request and come straight back to him. A few minutes later, Mr. Justice Sackville's clerk phoned back to inform Mr. Pearson's clerk that the judge would be happy to see Mr. Pearson in chambers at 9:30, and he assumed, given the circumstances, that Mr. Redmayne would also need to be present.
"He'll be my next call, Bill," replied Mr. Pearson's clerk, before putting the phone down.
Mr. Pearson's clerk then called Mr. Redmayne's clerk and asked if Mr. Redmayne would be free at 9:30 to see the judge in chambers to discuss a matter of the utmost urgency.
"So what's this all about, Jim?" Mr. Redmayne's clerk asked.
"No idea, Ted. Pearson never confides in me."
Mr. Redmayne's clerk called Mr. Redmayne on his mobile and caught him just as he was about to disappear below ground into Pimlico tube station.
"Did Pearson give any reason why he wants a meeting with the judge?" asked Alex.
"He never does, Mr. Redmayne," replied Ted.
***
Alex knocked quietly on the door before entering Mr. Justice Sackville's chambers. He found Pearson lounging in a comfortable chair chatting to the judge about his roses. Mr. Justice Sackville would never have considered broaching the relevant subject until both counsel were present.
"Good morning, Alex," said the judge, waving him to an old leather armchair next to Pearson.
"Good morning, judge," replied Alex.
"As we are due to sit in less than thirty minutes," said the judge, "perhaps, Arnold, you could brief us on why you requested this meeting."
"Certainly, Judge," said Pearson. "At the request of the CPS, I attended a meeting at their offices yesterday evening." Alex held his breath. "After a lengthy discussion with my masters, I can report that they are willing to consider a change of plea in this case."
Alex tried not to show any reaction, although he wanted to leap up and punch the air, but this was judge's chambers, and not the terraces at Upton Park.
"What do they have in mind?" asked the judge, turning his attention to Redmayne.
"They felt that if Cartwright was able to plead guilty to manslaughter..."
"How do you feel your client might respond to such an offer?" asked the judge.
"I have no idea," admitted Alex. "He's an intelligent man, but he's also as stubborn as a mule. He's stuck rigidly to the same story for the past six months and has never once stopped protesting his innocence."
"Despite that, are you of a mind to advise him to accept the CPS's offer?" asked Pearson.
Alex was silent for some time before he said, "Yes, but how does the CPS suggest I dress it up?"
Pearson frowned at Redmayne's choice of phrase. "If your client were to admit that he and Wilson did go into the alley for the purpose of sorting out their differences..."
"And a knife ended up in Wilson 's chest?" asked the judge, trying not to sound too cynical.
"Self-defense, mitigating circumstances-I'll leave Redmayne to fill in the details. That's hardly my responsibility."
The judge nodded. "I will instruct my clerk to inform the court officials and the jury that I do not intend to sit"-he glanced at his watch-"until eleven A.M. Alex, will that give you enough time to instruct your client and then return to my chambers with his decision?"
"Yes, I feel sure that will be quite enough time," replied Alex.
"If the man's guilty," said Pearson, "you'll be back in two minutes."
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
AS ALEX REDMAYNE left the judge a few moments later and made his way slowly across to the other side of the building, he tried to marshal his thoughts. Within two hundred paces, he exchanged the peaceful serenity of a judge's chambers for cold bleak cells only occupied by prisoners.
He came to a halt at the heavy black door that blocked his way to the cells below. He knocked twice before it was opened by a silent policeman who accompanied him down a narrow flight of stone steps to a yellow corridor known by the old lags as the yellow brick road. By the time they reached cell number 17, Alex felt he was well prepared, although he still had no idea how Danny would react to the offer. The officer selected a key from a large ring and unlocked the cell door.
"Do you require an officer to be present during the interview?" he asked politely.
"That won't be necessary," Alex replied.
The officer pulled open the two-inch-thick steel door. "Do you want the door left open or closed, sir?"
"Closed," replied Alex as he walked into a tiny cell that boasted two plastic chairs and a small formica table in the middle of the room, graffiti the only decoration on the walls.
Danny rose as Alex entered the room. "Good morning, Mr. Redmayne," he said.
"Good morning, Danny," replied Alex, taking the seat opposite him.
He knew it would be pointless to ask his client once again to call him by his first name. Alex opened a file that contained a single sheet of paper. "I have some good news," he declared. "Or at least, I hope you'll feel it's good news." Danny showed no emotion. He rarely spoke unless he had something worthwhile to say. "If you felt able to change your plea to one of guilty of manslaughter," continued Alex, "I think the judge would only sentence you to five years, and as you've already served six months, with good behavior you could be out in a couple of years."
Danny stared across the table at Alex, looked him straight in the eye and said, "Tell 'im to fuck off."
Alex was almost as shocked by Danny's language as he was by his instant decision. He'd never heard his client swear once during the past six months.
"But, Danny, please give the offer a little more consideration," pleaded Alex. "If the jury finds you guilty of murder you could end up serving a life sentence, with a tariff of twenty years, perhaps more. That would mean you wouldn't be released from prison until you're nearly fifty. But if you accept their offer, you could begin your life with Beth in two years' time."
"What kind of life?" asked Danny coldly. "One where everyone thinks I murdered my best mate and got away with it? No, Mr. Redmayne. I didn't kill Bernie, and if it takes me twenty years to prove it... "
"But, Danny, why risk the whims of a jury when you can so easily accept this compromise?"
"I don't know what the word compromise means, Mr. Redmayne, but I do know that I'm innocent and once the jury 'ears about this offer-"
"They'll never hear about it, Danny. If you turn the offer down, they won't be told why proceedings are being held up this morning, and the judge will make no reference to it in his summing up. The trial will just continue as if nothing has happened."
"So be it," said Danny.
"Perhaps you'd like a little more time to think about it," said Alex, refusing to give up. "You could talk to Beth. Or your parents. I'm sure I could get the judge to hold things up until tomorrow morning, which would at least give you time to reconsider your position."