Bagley, Desmond - The Freedom Trap Read online

  'There wasn't anyone around to ask.'

  'Very well; what did you do then?'

  'I walked back through the park to Hyde Park Corner and over into Green Park. Then up Bond Street into Oxford Street. I was doing a bit of window shopping, you see.'

  'And what time would this be?'

  'Oh, I don't know. Say, about nine-fifteen. I was dawdling a bit. I had a look at a place called Burlington Arcade, then I went on up Bond Street looking at the shops, as I said. It's marvellous -- nothing like it in South Africa.'

  'And you didn't speak to anyone at all?'

  'If I'd known I needed an alibi I would have,' I said bitterly.

  'Just so,' said Maskell. 'So you arrived at Oxford Street -what did you do then?'

  'Well, I hadn't had breakfast and I felt a bit peckish so I found a pub and had some sandwiches and a pint. I was chatting to the barman, an Irishman. He ought to remember me.'

  'And what time was this?'

  'It must have been after ten o'clock because the pub was open. Say, half past ten.'

  'That alibi comes a little late,' said Maskell. 'It's not relevant.' He consulted a sheet of paper from the folder. 'I must tell you that the police version differs from yours substantially -- and they have a great deal of evidence to show.' He looked me in the eye. 'Do I have to point out the dangers of lying to your lawyer?'

  'I'm not lying,' I said indignantly.

  He spoke gravely. 'Mr Rearden, let me say that you are in deep trouble. I gather you want to enter a plea of not guilty at your trial, but I must warn you that, on the evidence now extant, you are likely to lose the case. Public concern about crimes of violence of this nature has been increasing and this concern is reflected by the heavy sentences imposed by the courts.'

  He paused to collect his thoughts and then went on in measured tones. 'Now, as your solicitor I cannot prejudge this case, but I would like to say this: If the diamonds were to be returned, and if you entered a plea of guilty, then the court would be inclined to leniency and, in my opinion, your sentence would be not more than five years and possibly as little as three years. With a remittance of sentence for good behaviour you could be out of prison in as little as two years.

  'On the other hand, if the diamonds are not returned and if you enter a plea of not guilty then your sentence is going to be very heavy -- assuming you are convicted, an assumption which on the evidence I have is very likely. If I may use slang I would say that his Lordship is going to throw the book at you; he'll lock you up and throw away the key. I doubt if you would get away with much under fourteen years, and I assure you that I have great experience in these forecasts and I do not speak lightly.'

  He cleared his throat. 'Now, what do you say, Mr Rearden? What shall we do about this?'

  'The only diamonds I saw that morning were in the shop windows of Bond Street,' I said distinctly.

  He looked at me in silence for a long time then shook his head. 'Very well,' he said quietly. 'I will go about my business -- and yours -- but with no great hope of success. I ought to warn you that the police have such evidence that will be very difficult for defence counsel to refute.'

  'I'm innocent,' I said obstinately.

  He said no more but collected his papers and left the room without a backward glance.

  II So there I was in the dock of the Central Criminal Court -the Old Bailey. There was much pomp and circumstance, robes and wigs, deferences and courtesies -- and me popping up from the bowels of the earth into the dock like the demon king in a pantomime, the centre of attraction. Of course, I had competition from the Judge. It seems that when a man gets to sit on the Bench he feels that he's entitled to be a licensed jester and he loves nothing more than to have the audience rolling in the aisles at his witticisms. I've seen worse music hall turns than a Criminal Court judge. Still, it does lighten the atmosphere -- a court would be a pretty grim place without the comic bits -- and the Chief Comic isn't prejudiced; he aims his barbs at prosecution and defence alike. I found chat I quite enjoyed it and laughed as much as anyone else.

  Maskell was there, of course, but in a minor role; defence counsel was a man called Rollins. Maskell had tried again, just before the trial, to get me to alter my plea of not guilty. He said, 'Mr Rearden, I want you to consider once more the consequences of losing this case. You will not only receive a long sentence but there are certain other implications. Long-term prisoners are invariably regarded as high risk prisoners, especially those who are regarded as having financial backing. In the absence of diamonds to the value of £173,000 you would undoubtedly come into that category. A high risk prisoner is treated very differently from the ordinary prisoner and I understand that the circumstances can be rather unpleasant. I would think of that if I were you.'

  I didn't have to think of it. I hadn't a hope in hell of getting the diamonds back and that was the crux of the matter. Even if I pleaded guilty I'd get a stiff sentence in the absence of the diamonds. The only thing to do was to put on a brave face and make the best of it. «It struck me that Mackintosh was a very smart man and that maybe Mrs Smith was even smarter.

  I said, 'I'm sorry, Mr Maskell, but I'm innocent.'

  He looked puzzled. He didn't believe a word I said but he couldn't figure out why I was keeping my mouth shut. But then a wintry smile came to his face. 'I hope you don't think the investment of so many years of your life is worth the money. Too much time in prison is apt to change a man for the worse.'

  I smiled at him. 'I thought you said you wouldn't prejudge the case.'

  'I think you are a very foolish young man,' he said. 'But you have my best wishes in your unfortunate future.'

  The trial got under way laboriously. First the jury details were settled and then the action began, the prosecution getting first crack. The prosecuting counsel was a tall, thin man with a face like the blade of a hatchet, and he fairly revelled in his job. He led off with a rather skimpy introduction and then began to lay on the prosecution witnesses, while Rollins, my counsel, looked on with a bored expression on his face. I had met Rollins only twice and he had been offhanded on both occasions. He knew this was one he wasn't going to win.

  The prosecution witnesses were good -- very good, indeed -and I began to see why the prosecuting counsel was looking so cheerful despite the misfortune of his face. Expert police witnesses introduced photographs and drawings of the scene of the crime and, that groundwork laid, the pressure was applied.

  There was the motherly old soul who had identified me at the police station line-up. 'I saw him strike the postman,' she testified, the light of honesty shining from her eyes. 'I was standing in the corridor and saw the accused hit the postman with his fist, grab a yellow box from him, and push him into an office. Then the accused ran down the stairs.'

  The prosecutor offered her a plan of the second floor. 'Where were you standing?'

  She indicated a place in the corridor and looked across the court straight at me as guileless as you please. The sweet old lady was lying like a flatfish, and she knew that I knew she was lying. She couldn't have been standing in the corridor because I'd checked, and the details of her evidence were all wrong, anyway. There wasn't a thing I could do about it, though.

  Another highlight was a man from Fortnum and Mason who testified to having sent a packed picnic basket to a certain hotel. The order was telephoned in by a Mr Rearden. Questioned by the defence he said be couldn't be certain that the Mr Rearden who ordered the basket was the accused.

  A hotel employee testified that the accused stayed at his hotel and that a basket had been delivered addressed to Mr Rearden. Asked what had happened to it he said he didn't know but presumably the accused had collected it. There was a bit of argument about that and part of his answer was struck out.

  A detective produced a picnic basket in court and testified that he had found it in the office of Kiddykars Ltd. It had been identified as coming from Fortnum's. Another police witness testified that the basket was liberally covered with the
accused's fingerprints, as were other items in the room; to wit -an electric kettle, a coffee pot and several pieces of crockery and cutlery.

  The jury drew its own conclusions.

  Then there was the police witness who said he had been interested in tracking down the ownership of Kiddykars Ltd.

  Apparently it was a genuine company but not doing any business. The lines of ownership were very tangled but he had finally cracked it with the helpful assistance of the South. African police. The owner proved to be a Mr Joseph Aloysius Rearden of Johannesburg. No, he had no means of knowing if the Joseph Aloysius Rearden of Kiddykars was the Joseph Aloysius Rearden who stood in the dock.

  That would be taking him further than he was prepared to 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 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 on 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 mat 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 worth while. Now, it is not the function of this court to make the fees of crime worth while, 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.

  in 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 must have been working overtime that day -- and there was a lot of waiting about apparently pointlessly. I was feeling a bit miserable; no one can stand in
front of a judge and receive a twenty year sentence with complete equanimity.

  Twenty years!

  I was thirty-four years old. I'd be fifty-four when I came out; perhaps a bit less if I could persuade them I was a good boy, but that would be bloody difficult in view of what the judge had said. Any Review Board I appeared before would read a transcript of the trial and the judge's remarks would hit them like a hammer.

  Twenty long years!

  I stood by apathetically while the police escort read out the details of my case to the receiving officer. 'All right,' said the receiving officer. He signed his name in a book and tore out a sheet. 'Here's the body receipt.'

  So help me -- that's what he said. 'Body receipt.' When you're in prison you cease to be a man; you're a body, a zombie, a walking statistic. You're something to be pushed around like the GPO pushed around that little yellow box containing the diamonds; you're a parcel of blood and guts that needs feeding at regular intervals, and you're assumed not to have any brains at all.

  'Come on, you,' said the receiving officer. 'In here.' He unlocked a door and stood aside while I walked in. The door slammed behind me and I heard the click of the lock. It was a crowded room filled with men of all types, judging by their clothing. There was everything from blue jeans to a bowler and striped trousers. Nobody was talking -- they just stood .round and examined the floor minutely as though it was of immense importance. I suppose they all felt like me; they'd had the wind knocked out of them.

  We waited in that room for a long time, wondering what was going to happen. Perhaps some of us knew, having been there before. But this was my first time in an English gaol and I felt apprehensive. Maskell's words about the unpleasant circumstances that attend the high risk prisoner began to worry me.

  At last they began to take us out, one at a time and in strict alphabetical order. Rearden comes a long way down the alphabet so I had to wait longer than most, but my turn came and a warder took me down "a passage and into an office.

  A prisoner is never asked to sit down. I stood before that desk and answered questions while a prison officer took down the answers like the recording angel. He took down my name, birthplace, father's name, mother's maiden name, my age, next-of-kin, occupation. All that time he never looked at me once; to him I wasn't a man, I was a statistics container -he pressed a button and the statistics poured out.