‘This has been a most unusual case, for several reasons,’ Mr Justice Baverstock began, ‘and I will require a little time to consider its full implications before I pass sentence. I would therefore ask all interested parties to return to this court at ten o’clock tomorrow morning, when I will pass sentence.’
‘My Lord,’ said Booth Watson, rising from his place. ‘Can I assume that my client will remain on bail overnight?’
Grace was about to leap up and object, when His Lordship said, ‘No, you cannot, Mr Booth Watson. He will be remanded in custody pending sentencing, because if I were to grant your request, I am not convinced your client would reappear in court tomorrow morning to hear my judgment.’
Booth Watson sank back in his place without further comment.
‘Take him down,’ said the clerk of the court.
Two policemen stepped forward, gripped Faulkner firmly by the arms, and led him downstairs to the cells.
‘All rise.’
William watched as Faulkner disappeared out of sight and could only wonder what must be going through his mind.
‘Congratulations, Grace,’ said Sir Julian. ‘I couldn’t have done it without you.’
‘Thank you, Father. And there are several reasons why I couldn’t have done it without you.’
They both smiled.
‘I fear, young lady, that it will not be long before you take silk, and I will no longer be able to call upon your services as my junior. And thank you too, Clare, even if I suspect that in future you’ll be known as Caviar Clare. But congratulations to both of you on a famous victory.’
‘How long do you think the sentence will be?’ asked Clare, as they made their way out of court.
‘Pick a number,’ said Sir Julian, ‘and you’ll get it wrong.’
‘I don’t suppose there’s the slightest chance you could influence the judge, BW?’ said Faulkner, as he sat down on the thin, hard mattress. ‘You managed it last time.’
‘No, I didn’t. It was the judge who influenced you,’ Booth Watson reminded him as he pulled up a chair. ‘I have hinted to the Criminal Appeal Office that as our prisons are so overcrowded they might consider a heavy fine more appropriate than a custodial sentence in this case, but so far the idea has fallen on deaf ears.’
‘If only I’d taken your advice, BW, and refused to be cross-examined, we’d be having dinner at the Savoy this evening.’
This was one of those rare occasions when Booth Watson didn’t offer an opinion, personal or professional.
‘Four million?’ repeated Christina.
‘Possibly more,’ said Mr Nealon. ‘I have two or three clients on my books who’ve been looking for a property like this for some time, and once it’s been advertised in all the glossy magazines and journals, who knows how much it might fetch?’
‘That sounds promising,’ said Christina.
‘So, would you like me to put it on the market, Mrs Faulkner?’
‘Yes, but not until I’m no longer Mrs Faulkner, which shouldn’t be too long now.’
‘All rise.’
Mr Justice Baverstock entered his fiefdom for the last time in the case of the Crown v. Faulkner. He placed a thick red-leather folder marked EIIR on the bench in front of him, sat down and adjusted his red robes before looking down on the court and waiting for everyone to settle. He placed a pair of half-moon spectacles on the end of his nose and nodded to the clerk.
‘Will the prisoner please rise?’
Faulkner stood up and faced His Lordship. It was clear for all to see that he hadn’t slept the previous night.
The judge opened the red folder, looked down at his handwritten words and began to deliver his judgment.
‘There is no doubt in my mind, Mr Faulkner, that you are a ruthless, unprincipled and amoral man, who lacks any sense of decency or decorum, and who, because of your wealth and status, feels you are above the law. With this in mind, and remembering the seriousness of the offence, you are sentenced to serve six years in prison.’
Grace wanted to leap in the air, but somehow managed to control herself, while several of those around her could not. From the look on Sir Julian’s face it was clear that he did consider his daughter’s behaviour appropriate, but didn’t comment.
‘But, given the circumstances,’ continued the judge once he’d regained everyone’s attention, ‘I have decided to suspend the sentence and fine you one million pounds, over and above any legal costs involved in this trial, which you will also bear.’
Faulkner wanted to leap in the air and cry hallelujah, although he was surprised to see his advocate didn’t appear to share his relief but continued to sit there, looking po-faced.
‘However,’ the judge continued, as he turned a page, ‘I have been reminded you are currently serving a four-year suspended sentence for a previous offence of fraud. Mr Justice Nourse, who presided over the trial, made it clear that should you commit another crime during your probationary period, however minor, you would automatically be sentenced to serve four years in a maximum-security prison with no remission, and as I have no authority to override that decision, you will now carry out that sentence.’
Faulkner collapsed back into his chair, and placed his head in his hands.
‘And because of that previous judgment, I am advised by the Crown Prosecution Service I have been left with no choice but to add the six years I have prescribed to the original four, so that your sentence will now be for ten years.’
Mr Justice Baverstock closed his red folder and once again nodded to the clerk of the court. The uproar was such that few people heard the clerk say, ‘Take the prisoner down.’
Sir Julian uncorked a bottle of champagne and began to pour glasses for his victorious team.
‘How many jars of caviar did you manage to retrieve?’ asked Clare.
‘The jury polished off both of theirs,’ said Grace. ‘Claimed they needed to sample the evidence. Booth Watson’s has gone missing, and I don’t expect to
