‘Thank you, Sir Julian,’ said Mr Justice Baverstock. ‘Perhaps this would be a suitable time to take a short break, after which you may call your first witness.’
He then rose from his place, bowed and left the court.
‘Where’s Heath?’ demanded Sir Julian before he’d even sat back down.
‘Under police protection in a cell on the ground floor,’ said Grace. ‘I’ll pop down and warn him he’ll be on shortly.’
‘And his girlfriend?’
‘As soon as Heath is on the stand she’ll be driven to the airport. A car is standing by to take Heath there to join her the moment he steps down.’
‘I think the case might well be over by stumps this evening,’ said Sir Julian. ‘Once Heath has spelt out the details of what took place in Faulkner’s home that night, I suspect Booth Watson will do his damnedest to make a plea bargain on behalf of his client.’
‘And how will you respond?’ asked Grace.
‘My junior has already prepared a rather uncompromising statement that I shall deliver word for word.’
‘Well, that was lethal,’ said Faulkner, leaning down from the dock to talk to his silk. ‘Sir Julian Warwick looked as if he couldn’t wait to get Heath on the stand.’
‘Nor can I,’ said Booth Watson. ‘He’s a flawed individual, and I intend to take him apart limb by limb. I remain confident of getting you off the more serious charge of supplying, although possession will still be a problem.’
‘The police planted the gear as revenge for their abject failure in the missing Rembrandt case,’ said Faulkner.
‘I won’t be mentioning the Rembrandt case,’ said Booth Watson. ‘It would only enable the Crown to inform the jury that you’re serving a four-year suspended sentence for fraud. They’re not allowed to mention any previous convictions unless we raise the subject first. However, three of your dinner guests are willing to swear under oath that no one was offered so much as a joint, and a fourth will testify that he’s never known you to take a drug in your life.’
‘Then he can’t have known me very long,’ said Faulkner.
‘You may call your first witness, Sir Julian,’ said Mr Justice Baverstock, after he’d returned from the short recess.
‘Thank you, m’lud. I call Mr Adrian Heath.’
Booth Watson studied the Crown’s star witness with interest as he entered the court. He was smartly dressed, looking more like a City whizz-kid than a reformed drug addict. Heath gave William a nervous smile as he made his way to the witness box, but he didn’t even glance at Faulkner as he passed him in the dock. He delivered the oath with enough confidence for Booth Watson to be reminded that it wasn’t the first time he’d been in a courtroom.
Sir Julian greeted him with a warm smile. ‘For the court’s record, Mr Heath, would you please state your full name and your current address?’
‘Adrian Charles Heath, 23 Ladbroke Grove, London W10.’
Booth Watson suspected that was his mother’s address.
‘Mr Heath, can you confirm that in the past you were a drug addict?’
‘In the past, yes I was, Sir Julian. But now, thanks to the support of a very special young woman who stood by me during my rehab, that’s all behind me, and we plan on getting married in the near future.’
‘I’m sure we all wish you every happiness,’ said Sir Julian, turning to smile at Booth Watson, who showed no signs of joy. ‘Well, perhaps not all of us,’ he added, eliciting a smile from one or two members of the jury. Sir Julian accepted that he had to get his next question on the record, so that Booth Watson couldn’t spring it as a surprise during his cross-examination.
‘And you were, Mr Heath, for a short period of time a drug dealer?’
‘For a very short period. And then only when I was desperate for cash to pay for my addiction.’
‘And that is also now happily behind you.’
‘Yes, sir, I can assure you that I haven’t had anything to do with drugs for over six months, and I’ll never return to that way of life again.’
‘That does you great credit, Mr Heath. And you now feel it is no more than your civic duty to give evidence concerning the last transaction you were involved in.’ Heath nodded and bowed his head while Booth Watson made another note. ‘Did you, on the evening of May the seventeenth this year, drive down to Limpton Hall in Hampshire to keep an appointment with the accused, Mr Miles Faulkner?’
‘Yes, sir, I did.’
‘Do you see him in the court today?’
‘Yes, I do.’ Heath pointed to the man sitting in the dock, and then quickly turned away.
‘What time was your appointment with the defendant?’
‘Seven o’clock.’
‘And were you on time?’
‘I may have been a few minutes late, but the butler took me straight through to Mr Faulkner’s study where he was waiting to see me.’
‘And he seemed keen to close the deal?’
‘The door hadn’t even closed before he asked me if I’d been able to get my hands on the merchandise he’d requested. I told him that I had, and handed a packet to him for inspection.’
‘Is that customary in such transactions?’
‘Yes, sir. He wanted to be sure the gear was of the highest quality. So he insisted on trying a sample.’
‘And did he?’
‘Yes, he tasted a small amount of the product and seemed well satisfied.’
‘Did he indeed? What happened next?’
‘He paid me the eight hundred pounds in cash we’d agreed on, thanked me and said he hoped we’d do business again.’
‘And after that?’
‘He asked me to accompany the butler downstairs, where I handed the goods over to his chef.’
Sir Julian paused for a moment. ‘To his chef?’ he repeated.
‘Yes. Mr Faulkner told me he’d been instructed to set out ten portions on a silver platter for himself and his guests.’
‘Did the chef seem surprised?’
‘No, sir, but then I assumed he’d dealt with Fortnum and Mason in the past.’
Sir Julian looked down at
