Contents (83)
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- SIXTY-ONE
- SIXTY-TWO
- SIXTY-THREE
- SIXTY-FOUR
- SIXTY-FIVE
- SIXTY-SIX
- SIXTY-SEVEN
- SIXTY-EIGHT
- SIXTY-NINE
- SEVENTY
- SEVENTY-ONE
- SEVENTY-TWO
- SEVENTY-THREE
- SEVENTY-FOUR
- SEVENTY-FIVE
- SEVENTY-SIX
- SEVENTY-SEVEN
- SEVENTY-EIGHT
- SEVENTY-NINE
- Acknowledgements
- OUT NOW IN PAPERBACK
SIXTY-TWO
Michael Devlin’s feet felt heavy beneath him as he took the first creaky wooden step that led from the Old Bailey Robing Rooms to its Bar Mess. On most days he would bound upstairs. Two steps at a time. Three, if he was feeling energetic. Today he took single steps. And he took them slowly.
The Old Bailey Bar Mess held special memories for Michael. Like most successful criminal barristers, he associated it with some of his greatest victories: murder, robbery, kidnap, blackmail. Michael had defended them all in this building, and every morning of every day of every trial began in the cavernous room he was now approaching. A room always filled to capacity with both the greats and the rising stars of his profession. Where barristers would begin their preliminary arguments long before the intervention of any judge; intellectual jousting that as often as not decided the winner before the hearing itself began. And a room where, so many times, Michael had marvelled at Derek Reid’s mastery of the art.
But never again, Michael thought as he took the final step. I’ll never see him here again.
The atmosphere in the Mess was unusually subdued. Derek Reid had been a very popular figure. It was no surprise, then, that every pair of eyes fell on Michael as he walked from the staircase to the head of the Mess. Just a few at first. Just those who had noticed his arrival. But within moments it was everyone. Thirty, maybe forty barristers. All looking with sympathy at the man they knew to be Derek Reid’s closest friend.
It was exactly that sympathy that Michael did not want. That he did not think he deserved.
You’d be looking at me differently if you knew what I’d done, Michael thought to himself, the guilt that had tormented him rising again. If you knew what I’d caused.
‘Michael.’
Jenny Draper had spotted him from across the room and rushed towards him. She was just feet away when she finally said his name. Michael turned in response and found himself engulfed by Draper’s arms.
‘I’m so sorry. I really am.’
Draper’s mouth was close to Michael’s ears as she hugged him. It made her low voice seem loud which, for an instant, made Michael suspect that her sympathy was for show; an attempt to pull herself into the attention he was receiving.
Michael shook off the thought. There was every chance that Draper was being sincere. He would not let his grief and his cynicism convince him otherwise.
‘Thanks, Jenny.’ Michael slipped back from Draper’s grasp as he spoke. ‘I, erm, I appreciate it. Genuinely.’
‘You really didn’t need to come today.’ Draper reached out and touched Michael’s upper arm as she spoke. ‘I could have had Levitt adjourn the case to next week without you. No one would have objected. Not in the circumstances.’
Michael nodded his head and offered a weak smile. What Draper was saying was not new; she had told him the same in the four voicemails she had left since 8 a.m.