‘Well, folks,’ says Barker. ‘I’m afraid the next case isn’t quite so easy. You’re not going to like it, Sophie.’
‘Is there a child involved?’
Barker raises his index finger and the image changes again, this time to show a middle-aged man. Full body shots, naked. Front and back. Inside and out. X-rays, ultrasounds and an MRI of the brain.
‘You’re looking at the father,’ says Barker. ‘Multiple prior convictions for abuse of toxic substances, primarily nicotine and ethanol. This time he’s up for violating the laws on early detection of disease in infants and children.’
‘How old is the little one?’
‘Eighteen months. Female. Non-attendance at stages G2 plus G5 through to G7 of the compulsory medicals. More seriously, the father didn’t bring her for screening — cerebral condition unknown and no information on allergies.’
‘Very remiss. Couldn’t someone have acted earlier?’
‘The civic doctor did his best to remind the respondent of his legal obligations, but the situation couldn’t be resolved. In the end, a counsellor was appointed — not a moment too soon, I’m afraid. He found the child in a terrible state: undernourished with a serious case of diarrhoea and vomiting … She was lying in her own filth. Another few days, and it would have been too late.’
‘How awful. Surely he knows a baby can’t look after itself?’
‘There were problems at home,’ explains Rosentreter. ‘He’s a single parent—’
‘We’re aware of the circumstances, but to treat your own daughter with such …’
Rosentreter raises a weary hand to signal his agreement with Sophie. The gesture is barely over when the door behind him opens. The new arrival doesn’t knock or apologise for the disturbance: he moves with the confidence of a man accustomed to going where he pleases. His suit is perfectly tailored and worn with the carefully measured insouciance that true elegance requires. His hair is dark, his eyes are almost black, and his limbs are long but not lanky. He has the deceptive ease of a predator — a big cat with its eyes half closed, but ready to attack at any time. Only those who know Heinrich Kramer would notice the tremor in his fingers, which he disguises by keeping his hands in his trouser pockets. When outdoors, he wears a pair of white gloves, which he now removes.
‘Santé, one and all!’ He places his briefcase on a spare table and pulls up a chair.
‘Santé, Herr Kramer!’ says Barker. ‘Still on the hunt for a good story?’
‘The fourth estate never sleeps.’
Barker laughs for a second, stopping only when he realises that Kramer isn’t joking.
Kramer leans forward with a frown, staring intently at the private counsel as if to remember who he is. ‘Santé, Rosentreter,’ he says, inflecting every syllable.
Rosentreter looks up briefly and buries his head in his files. Kramer straightens the crease of his trousers, crosses his legs, tilts his head, and cultivates the look of a casual observer, a difficult role for a man like him.
‘Back to the case,’ says Sophie briskly. ‘Let’s hear the recommendations from the public advocate.’
‘Three years.’
‘Isn’t that overly harsh?’ objects Rosentreter.
‘Not in my opinion,’ says Barker. ‘The fellow needs to realise he endangered his daughter’s life.’
‘I suggest a compromise,’ intervenes Sophie. ‘Two years of correctional measures to be undertaken at home. In addition, appointment of a medical guardian for the little one and compulsory attendance at medical and hygiene classes for the father. That way the child will be safe and the family will get another chance. What do you think?’
‘Exactly what I was going to suggest,’ says Rosentreter.
‘Marvellous.’ Sophie smiles and turns to Barker. ‘Can you justify your original recommendation?’
‘The father’s failure to fulfil basic sanitary and medical requirements was detrimental to the child’s well-being,’ says Barker. ‘Parents have rights, but that doesn’t include the right to endanger their offspring. Legally, there’s no difference between deliberately exposing a child to danger and inflicting actual injury. In other circumstances we’d be talking grievous bodily harm.’
Sophie makes a note. ‘Agreed,’ she says, placing the file to the right. ‘Let’s hope the matter has been resolved in everyone’s best interest.’
Kramer uncrosses and recrosses his legs before settling back down.
‘Next case,’ says Barker, raising an index finger. ‘Mia Holl.’
The woman on the screen could be as young as twenty or as old as forty. Her date of birth puts her somewhere in the middle, a predictable place for the truth to be found. Her face glows with a special aura of cleanliness, which we also detect on the other faces in the room; it imparts a sense of innocence, of agelessness — an almost childlike air. It is the look of human beings who have never felt pain. Mia seeks our gaze trustingly. Her naked body is slight, but her physique is wiry and resilient. Kramer sits upright.
‘Another petty offence.’ Sophie glances at the topmost file and barely suppresses a yawn.
‘What was her name again?’ The question comes from Kramer. Although the words are spoken softly, everyone stops at the sound of his voice. Surprised, lawyers and judge look up from their files.
‘Mia Holl,’ says Sophie.
With a leisurely gesture, as if to bat away a fly, Kramer signals for the hearing to continue. With his other hand, he pulls a digital notebook from his trouser pocket and starts to take notes. Sophie and Rosentreter exchange glances.
‘What have we got?’ asks Sophie.
‘Violation of duty to provide medical data,’ says Barker. ‘Nutritional records and sleep patterns overdue for the current month. Sudden cessation of sporting activity. Failure to provide home blood pressure readings and urine samples.’
‘What of her general stats?’
At Barker’s command, long lists of numbers appear on the walclass="underline" blood values, energy expenditure, metabolic rate, plus graphs recording physical performance.
‘She looks well enough to me,’ says Sophie, giving Rosentreter his cue.
‘No prior offences. A successful biologist with an exemplary CV. No signs of physical impairment or social disability.’
‘Has she availed herself of the Central Partnership Agency?’
‘They haven’t received her application yet.’
‘It’s obviously an aberration, isn’t it, chaps?’ says Sophie. She laughs at the lawyers’ faces: Barker, disgruntled, and Rosentreter, shocked. ‘I’d rather not issue an official caution,’ she continues. ‘Mediation seems appropriate. We’ll invite her to see us.’
‘Whatever you think,’ says Barker with a shrug.
‘An aberration?’ Kramer smiles and taps his handheld display. ‘That’s one way of putting it.’
‘Are you acquainted with the respondent?’ enquires Sophie in a friendly tone.
‘The judge’s discretion is admirable.’ Kramer’s eyes twinkle at her, full of charming scorn. ‘You’ve also met the respondent, Sophie, even though under different circumstances.’
Sophie thinks for a moment. If it weren’t for her naturally ruddy complexion, it would be obvious she is blushing. Kramer returns his digital notebook to his pocket and gets up to leave.
‘Finished already?’ asks Barker.
‘Far from it; I’m just getting started.’
With a brief wave, Kramer leaves the room, while Sophie closes the file and reaches for the stack to her left.
‘Next, please.’
Pepper