guess that gives us something in common.’
His required copy of Barbara Spacey’s third psychological assessment was waiting for Parnell when he got back to his office. The overconfidence, verging upon aggression, that she’d noted in her first examination had been evident, which she interpreted to be his recovering from the trauma of his recent experiences. He had been more questioning about the need for such assessments than during either of their two previous encounters, referring to a well-known English novel involving police-state control and even brainwashing. She’d assessed that as a restoration of his earlier self-confidence. She hadn’t used the word paranoia, which Parnell wouldn’t have protested at if she had, unwilling to draw any attention to the personnel files that he intended disclosing to the FBI investigators.
It was mid-morning when Barry Jackson came on the line. ‘Everything’s served,’ the lawyer announced.
‘I know. I’ve already had a complaint session with Newton.’
‘He should have taken counsel’s advice. It could be argued he shouldn’t have done that.’
‘You should have warned me.’
‘Too late now.’
‘There’s something I want to talk to you about.’
‘There’s a lot I want to talk to you about. I’ve scheduled a press conference for this afternoon.’
‘You should have warned me about that too, for Christ’s sake!’
‘That’s what I’m doing now! You can make it, can’t you? Dubette can’t stop you. You’ve got the legal justification. And a judge’s virtual guidance.’
‘It would still have been polite to have told Newton that there was going to be a press conference.’
‘You tell him!’ said Jackson, with a hint of exasperation. ‘He’s got all the time in the world to round up as many lawyers as he wants to attend, if they think there’s a need.’
‘They’ll think there’s a need,’ predicted Parnell.
‘I’ll break the inviolable rule and buy lunch, but on one condition.’
‘What’s the condition?’
‘Today you drink water, not wine.’
‘Very biblical.’
‘You didn’t know I could walk on water?’
‘I’d hoped you could.’
Twenty-Seven
Barry Jackson arranged the conference in a midtown hotel, and chose the restaurant to which Beverley had taken him on their first outing, which tightened Parnell’s discomfort. It increased further when Jackson remarked that it was one of Beverley’s favourites, and Parnell decided to confront his difficulty.
He said: ‘I know.’
Jackson smiled, nodding. ‘So do I. She told me you’d been out together, although not that she brought you here.’
‘The first time,’ quickly admitted Parnell. ‘It’s only been twice. And I want…’
The lawyer’s hands came up like forbidding shutters. ‘I don’t want any explanations for why you and Beverley saw each other. I told you, we’re good friends with separate lives, to pursue as we want… as we choose. You and I will never have a personal problem about you and Beverley…’ Jackson let a heavy moment settle. ‘But there’s a reality to talk through. Your fiancee was murdered. You almost got railroaded. You’ve got the sympathy vote, Joe Ordinary – except that you’re not that ordinary – who got caught up in a situation beyond his control. But today we might, just might…’ Jackson narrowed his forefinger against his thumb. ‘… manage to shake a few trees eventually to bring down a few forbidden apples. We got the FBI waiting, with their baskets outstretched. You and Beverley are grown-up, consenting adults, responsible for everything you choose to do. And whatever you guys choose to do is entirely your business. I’m the last one to sit in judgement. But others would and are being invited to be judges and juries. And there’s the media, before whom a feast is being laid out, with you with the apple in your mouth. If there is the faintest whisper that so very soon after the death of your young fiancee you’re involved with another woman, you lose your sympathy vote so fast there’ll be scorch marks on the ground. And quite irrespective of however much convincing law I can argue – and I can argue a hell of a lot – I need totally innocent, railroaded Joe Ordinary next to me in every court and in every witness box… you in step with me and with what I’m saying?’
‘It’s a pretty effective and convincing speech,’ said Parnell, sipping the insisted-upon mineral water but wishing it were wine.
‘It’s meant to be. I spent almost as much time rehearsing it as I did preparing for this afternoon’s conference.’
‘There’s nothing between Beverley and me!’ insisted Parnell.
‘You missed the point,’ accused Jackson. ‘It’s nothing to do with whether or not you and Beverley are into a relationship, which I know you’re not, because Beverley told me you weren’t, and she and I only ever lied to each other once and haven’t done since. It’s public perception.’
‘I do know – do hear – what you’re saying,’ assured Parnell. ‘It isn’t a problem, because it isn’t a problem – a situation that exists.’ What had Jackson meant about he and Beverley only ever having lied to each other once?
‘I’m glad that’s cleared,’ said Jackson.
‘So am I,’ said Parnell, meaning it.
‘How’s your steak? I only ordered a salad when it was your treat, remember?’
‘The steak’s great and there’s still your bill to come.’
‘With other things,’ said Jackson seriously, the brief respite over. ‘I told Beverley to talk to you about refusing a psychological assessment.’
‘She did. I told her I’d back her.’ A flicker of doubt bubbled up in his mind.
‘Why did you take the assessment?’ asked the lawyer, directly.
‘It didn’t seem important enough to refuse,’ said Parnell. ‘Being asked to undergo it was written into my contract.’
‘You still feel that it’s unimportant now?’
Parnell shrugged. ‘I’m English, not American, so I’m not protected by your constitution. It’s difficult now to know what’s important and what isn’t. But I think I’ve discovered something that is.’
‘What?’ demanded the lawyer, at once.
Parnell recounted the arrival of the remaining French samples and Harry Johnson’s easy production of the flick knife and said: ‘Which he lied about, to Dingley and Benton.’
‘Doesn’t make him guilty of anything but that,’ qualified Jackson, once more.
‘I think it’s interesting. And that Dingley will find it interesting, too.’
‘Let’s keep it until we get this over with,’ cautioned Jackson. ‘You ready for this afternoon?’
‘How the hell do I know?’
‘I’ll take all the questions,’ insisted Jackson. ‘Decide those you can answer and those you can’t. We don’t want to risk a contempt of court.’
‘Why hold a press conference at all, then?’
‘To impose pressure. That’s the object of this exercise, remember? Did you tell Newton?’
‘Of course. By email.’
‘And?’
‘When I did see him, he was only just holding on. There were times when he was practically hysterical, particularly about France becoming public.’
‘It’s enough to become hysterical about.’
‘It shouldn’t come out publicly through what we’re doing, should it?’ asked Parnell.
‘I don’t see how it impacts,’ said Jackson, shrugging again. ‘But who the hell knows?’
‘You’re talking of destroying Dubette.’
‘And you’re talking like a terrified, piss-pants employee frightened of losing his job. You forgotten being promised the joys of communal buggery and oral sex, English boy?’
