When Aifric reached court number five at a quarter to eleven, it was packed with the usual crowd. Lawyers, trial attorneys, and a few eager-eyed members of the public who had nothing better to do with their day than hang around a courtroom and listen to the petty and occasionally not-so-petty offenses of career criminals. The courtroom was old. It smelled of wet overcoats and body odor. Aifric pushed her way forward, mumbling polite apologies and ignoring the more vocal complaints of those she disturbed. She looked everywhere for Johnathon Keyes, her new client’s lawyer on record, but didn’t see him. She had tried his office twice more since she had left the cells, failing each time to get anything more than a vague reassurance from Keyes’s secretary that Mr. Keyes is in court. Which court, the secretary could not say, nor could she offer any reassurance that Keyes would show up at the hearing. He might feel that was best dealt with by counsel, she’d said, meaning that it was Aifric’s problem to solve, and she wouldn’t want to be holding her breath for Keyes to show up and actually do his job.

The courtroom started to clear out slowly as Judge Alistair Hartigan, a stalwart of the district court, dealt with the petty criminal cases before him with a speed and brutal efficiency that was, if not entirely to be admired, certainly necessary in a court system that was overburdened and underfunded. By eleven, the courtroom had cleared out a little, and by eleven thirty, only a handful of longer applications remained to be heard.

Finally, the registrar called her case. “DPP and Robert Collins.”

Aifric stood.

“Aifric Ryan. Mr. Gilmartin is for the defense, Judge. He is unwell, and I’ve been asked to appear in his stead.”

One of the few remaining trial attorneys stood, too. “Aidan Murphy for the prosecution,” he said. Unlike Aifric, he had an instructing lawyer seated to his right.

“Judge, before we continue, I’m afraid I must apply for an adjournment. Mr. Gilmartin had planned to be here today but was taken ill suddenly, and Mr. Keyes, my client’s lawyer, was unable to be here due to a conflict with another case. I’ve only had Mr. Collins’s file for the past couple of hours, and I’ve not yet had the opportunity to speak with my client or take his instructions.”

Hartigan frowned at her. “A couple of hours is sufficient time to attend on your client in the cells, Ms. Ryan.”

“Yes, Judge. Unfortunately, the staff were unable to facilitate an interview.”

Hartigan grimaced. He looked at his watch. “This case is ready to send forward for trial. The book of evidence has been served. There’s nothing more for this court to do, and I’m unclear as to how an adjournment would be to your client’s benefit, Ms. Ryan.”

“Well, that’s the issue, Judge. The book of evidence hasn’t been served.” She held up the nearly empty file, which curled limply in her hand. “I have only a police summary of the charges, nothing further.”