The Freedom Trap. Desmond Bagley
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would be taking him further than he was prepared to go.
Again the jury drew its conclusions.
The postman gave his evidence fairly. I had hit him and he had recovered consciousness in the Kiddykar office. There was nothing in that which contradicted the perjured evidence of Old Mother Hubbard. The third eye-witness was the office boy from Betsy-Lou; he said he saw me lock the office door and run downstairs. I remembered him vaguely as the person who had walked behind me at that time. But I hadn’t run downstairs – that was his imagination working overtime.
Brunskill was a star witness.
‘Acting on information received I went, with Detective-Sergeant Jervis, to see the accused at his hotel. His answers to my questioning were such that I arrested him on suspicion of having been concerned in this crime. Subsequently I obtained his fingerprints which matched prints found in the office of Kiddykars Ltd. Further enquiries were made which resulted in three witnesses coming forward, all of whom identified the accused. More extensive enquiries led to the further evidence that has been presented to the Court relating to the picnic basket and the ownership of Kiddykars Ltd.’
The prosecutor sat down with a grin on his face and Rollins bounced to his feet for cross-examination.
Rollins: You spoke of ‘information received’, Inspector. How did this information come to you?
Brunskill: (hesitantly) Must I answer that, my Lord? The sources of police information may be prejudicial to …
Rollins: (quickly) This goes to the malice of a person or persons unknown which may prejudice the case for the accused, my Lord.
Judge: (in Churchillian tones) Mr Rollins; I don’t see how your case can deteriorate much further. However, I am inclined to let the question go. I am as interested as anybody. Answer the question, Inspector.
Brunskill: (unwillingly) There was one telephone call and one letter.
Rollins: Both anonymous?
Brunskill: Yes.
Rollins: Did these communications indicate that the accused had committed this crime?
Brunskill: Yes.
Rollins: Did they indicate where he was to be found?
Brunskill: Yes.
Rollins: Did they indicate that the basket found in the Kiddykar office had been purchased by the accused at Fortnum and Mason?
Brunskill: er … Yes.
Rollins: Is it a crime to purchase foodstuffs from that eminent firm of retailers?
Brunskill: (sharply) Of course not.
Rollins: Did these anonymous communications indicate that the firm of Kiddykars Ltd was owned by the accused?
Brunskill: (uncomfortably) Yes.
Rollins: Is it a crime to own such a firm as Kiddykars Ltd?
Brunskill: (with ebbing patience) No.
Judge: I am not so sure. Anyone who so maltreats the English language as to arrive at so abominable a name ought to be treated as a criminal.
(Laughter in court)
Rollins: Inspector, would you not say it was true that all your work had been done for you in this case? Would you not say it was true that without these malicious communications the accused would not be standing in the dock at this moment?
Brunskill: I cannot answer that question. He would have been caught.
Rollins: Would he? I admire your certitude.
Brunskill: He would have been caught.
Rollins: But not so speedily.
Brunskill: Perhaps not.
Rollins: Would you not characterize your mysterious communicant as someone who ‘had it in’ for the accused at worst – or a common informer or stool pigeon at best?
Brunskill: (smiling) I would prefer to think of him as a public-spirited citizen.
Very funny! Mackintosh – a public-spirited citizen! But, by God, the pair of them had been infernally clever. The first time I had laid eyes on that picnic basket had been in the Kiddykars office, and I certainly hadn’t telephoned Fortnum’s. Mrs Smith had done her shopping to good effect! Nor did I own Kiddykars Ltd – not to my own knowledge; but I’d have a hell of a time proving it. They had delivered me to the law trussed up like a chicken.
There wasn’t much after that. I said my piece, futile though it was; the prosecutor tore me into shreds and Rollins half-heartedly tried to sew up the pieces again without much success. The judge summed up and, with one careful eye on the Appeal Court, directed the jury to find me guilty. They were out only for half an hour – just time enough for a much-needed smoke – and the answer was predictable.
Then the judge asked if I had anything to say, so I spoke up with just two words: ‘I’m innocent.’
Nobody took much notice of that – they were too busy watching the judge arrange his papers and gleefully anticipating how heavy he’d be. He fussed around for a while, making sure that all attention would be on him, and then he began to speak in portentous and doomladen tones.
‘Joseph Aloysius Rearden, you have been found guilty of stealing by force diamonds to the value of £173,000. It falls to me to sentence you for this crime. Before I do so I would like to say a few words concerning your part in this affair.’
I could see what was coming. The old boy couldn’t resist the chance of pontificating – it’s easy from a safe seat.
‘An Englishman is walking the streets in the course of his usual employ when he is suddenly and unexpectedly assaulted – brutally assaulted. He is not aware that he is carrying valuables which, to him, would undoubtedly represent untold wealth, and it is because of these valuables that he is attacked.
‘The valuables – the diamonds – are now missing and you, Rearden, have not seen fit to co-operate with the police in their recovery in spite of the fact that you must have known that the court would be inclined to leniency had you done so. Therefore, you cannot expect leniency of this court.
‘I have been rather puzzled by your recalcitrant attitude but my puzzlement abated when I made an elementary mathematical calculation. In the normal course of events such a crime as yours, a crime of violence such as is abhorrent in this country, coupled with the loss to the community of property worth £173,000, would be punished by the heavy sentence of fourteen years’ imprisonment. My calculation, however, informs me that for those fourteen years you would be receiving an annual income of not less than £12,350 – tax free – being the amount you have stolen divided by fourteen. This, I might add, is considerably more than the stipend of one of Her Majesty’s Judges, such as myself – a fact which can be ascertained by anyone who cares to consult Whitaker’s Almanack.
‘Whether it can be considered that the loss of fourteen years of freedom, and confinement to the hardly pleasant environs of our prisons, is worth such an annual sum is a debatable matter. You evidently think it is worthwhile. Now, it is not the function of this court to make the fees of crime worthwhile, so you can hardly blame me for endeavouring to reduce your annual prison income.
‘Joseph Aloysius Rearden, I sentence you to twenty years’ detention in such prison or prisons as the appropriate authority deems fit.’
I’d bet Mackintosh was laughing fit to bust a gut.
III
The judge was right when he referred to ‘the hardly pleasant environs of our prisons’. The one in which I found myself was pretty deadly. The reception block was crowded – the judges