‘Largely because of what the other side tried to pull,’ said Beckwith. ‘With Pullinger’s adjournment built in, an entire week has been added.’
‘So are we still looking at a month, from now?’
The lawyer shrugged. ‘How the hell do I know? When I gave you that estimate I didn’t imagine us encountering anything of what we have so far. You got a problem?’
Yes, thought Jordan. On his current rate of the Appleton embezzlement, he could possibly amass a further half a million by the end of a month, but that was to offset any damages that might be awarded against him. But he didn’t imagine he could continue for a month without some financial controller or individual trader realizing Appleton and Drake was being milked like a milch cow. Which wasn’t the most pressing problem; even after it was suspected or proven by a snap audit it would still take at least another month – maybe even two – for an official criminal enquiry to begin, by which time he would have distanced himself untraceably from all the illegally established Appleton bank holdings, leaving only their existence as evidence of Appleton’s theft and money diversion from his own company. But Jordan intended far more. And an in-house investigation could very easily – and badly – impede his next move. To avoid his plans being disrupted he had to siphon off – although to different destinations – larger sums than his usual daily collection. But by increasing those amounts he correspondingly increased the danger of earlier discovery. Another week of simple bank transfers, Jordan decided. After that he had to begin, much more aggressively, undermining Appleton’s very foundations.
Belatedly responding to Beckwith’s question Jordan said, ‘No real problem. I undertook to stay until everything was over if we lost the dismissal and I will. I just don’t want everything to limp on, open-ended, which it seems to be doing.’
‘Pullinger won’t let anything that he controls “limp on, open-ended”,’ declared Beckwith. ‘If he suspects for a moment he’s being manipulated – as he clearly thinks he was with the venereal disease busisness – there’ll be hell to pay.’
How, wondered Jordan, could he create a situation that would appear to the judge to be precisely that, motivated by Appleton? He didn’t, at that precise moment, have the remotest idea. But he was confident he’d be able to think of one. Confident, Jordan at once qualified: not over confident.
‘You employed a lot of people to watch your wife in France, didn’t you?’ demanded Beckwith.
‘I engaged an enquiry service,’ said Appleton.
‘But not specifically for France?’ insisted Beckwith. ‘You’d engaged them long before that, hadn’t you?’
‘Yes,’ conceded the commodity dealer.
The man had reverted to his single-word answers, Jordan recognized, although Appleton appeared more at ease in the witness box than he had the previous day. Alyce did, too, despite Dr Harding not being in court. Leanne looked strained, her face drawn.
‘Why?’ asked Beckwith, matching the brevity.
‘I told the court yesterday,’ said Appleton, determined against saying too much.
‘Not to my recollection,’ refuted the lawyer. ‘Why did you put your wife under surveillance before she went to France?’
Appleton’s face flushed, very slightly. ‘I wanted to discover the man with whom she was having an affair. The man from whom she contracted the venereal disease that I caught.’ His voice had risen, too.
Beckwith was proving as good as Reid, the previous day, thought Jordan. Within minutes he’d irritated Appleton out of his attempted stonewalling answers, which he guessed Appleton now realized, and by so doing unsettled the man. The lawyer stoked the unease by letting Appleton’s reply settle in the minds of the jury before saying, ‘What was the outcome of that surveillance here in the United States?’
‘Nothing,’ Appleton was forced to admit.
‘I didn’t quite hear that,’ said Beckwith, settling into his performance.
‘They didn’t discover the man.’
‘They didn’t discover the identity of any man with whom your wife was having an affair,’ expanded Beckwith. ‘How long was your wife under surveillance here in America?’
‘I’m not sure,’ Appleton tried to avoid.
‘Of course you’re sure!’ insisted Beckwith. ‘You employed them: paid them money for the period during which they tried but failed to find anyone with whom your wife was sleeping. How long was your wife watched here in America before she went on vacation to France?’
‘A month.’
‘Your enquiry agents will be called, to give evidence,’ warned Beckwith. ‘Do you want to think again how long a period it was?’
‘Maybe six weeks. It ran on, over into the time they spent in France. It may have been six weeks here.’
‘Are they experienced enquiry agents?’
‘Yes.’
‘Yet over a period of six weeks, they failed to discover the lover with whom you were sure your wife was sleeping?’
‘Am sure!’
Beckwith let Appleton’s blurted, angry answer hang in the air for several moments before asking, ‘Your investigators failed to find any evidence of a lover here. What other evidence – other source – do you have to make that assertion?’
‘The infection I caught.’
‘That’s your proof?’
‘Yes.’
‘How much did six weeks unsuccessful surveillance here in America cost you, Mr Appleton?’
‘It wasn’t broken down in the bills I have so far paid.’
‘All right. Then tell the court the amount you have so far paid.’
‘Two hundred and twenty thousand dollars.’
There was a stir among the jury and Beckwith waited for it to subside. ‘A huge sum of money, the majority of which I assume to have been incurred on air fares and expenses in sending your investigators to France?’
‘Yes.’
‘Where they discovered the affair between my client and your wife?’
‘Yes.’ Appleton smiled.
‘Were you relieved?’
Appleton moved to speak but stopped. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘A reputable investigation agency had failed after six weeks of twenty-four-hour surveillance to find that your wife had a lover in this country. In France they found my client. Your suspicions were vindicated, weren’t they?’
‘It proved she was promiscuous.’
‘Did it?’
‘Of course it did.’
‘Why?’
‘Don’t be… it did. What else could it prove?’ Appleton was almost shouting when he finished.
Today was unfolding just like yesterday, thought Jordan. And without the slightest input from him. He saw Alyce was leaning forward in her seat, head slightly to one side, her entire concentration upon her husband. Leanne Jefferies’ attention was also focussed intently at the overpowering commodity trader.
Instead of responding to Appleton’s demand Beckwith said to Pullinger, ‘With your permission, your honour, I would like to introduce into the court the birth certificate of Harvey William Jordan, the copy of the passport of Harvey William Jordan and a venerealogist’s report upon Harvey William Jordan prepared by an American specialist, Dr George Abrahams.’
To Pullinger’s nodded agreement, the court usher collected the itemized material for distribution; as Reid had done the previous day, Beckwith personally handed the individual packages along the attorney tables.
‘The first document before you, numbered one, attests the birth of Harvey William Jordan in Paddington, London, England, on June tenth, 1966, does it not?’
‘Yes,’ agreed Appleton.
‘Will you turn to the final page of the copy of the United Kingdom passport, numbered two on its attached sticker, and read aloud to the court the surname on the first line of the man photographed in it?’
‘Jordan.’
‘And the given names on the next line?’
‘I am being lenient here, Mr Beckwith,’ cautioned the judge, making his first interruption.
‘Which I appreciate while asking your honour to accept the importance of this pedantry to my client,’ said Beckwith.