A Fool for a Client (40 page)

Parker knew that this woman had daughters too.
Her children were talented like Justine.
Did she see Justine as some one who had been victimised by life, or some one who had squandered her opportunities on something as petty as revenge?

Abrams was straightening out his papers, in preparation for any post-verdict motions that he might have to make, or to respond to any that Parker might make.
There was a kind of false briskness to his actions as he quickly extracted the papers, tapped the straight on the desk, closed the case and put it on the floor beside his chair.

There was a truck driver on the jury.
He was called Mulligan and was probably Irish himself.
But Justine had not challenged him, and there was nothing in the look on his face to indicate hostility to Justine.
On the other hand there was nothing to
indicate his thoughts at all.

Whatever those thoughts may be, he kept them well hidden throughout the trial.
The only thing that was clear was that he was a hard man who had no patience for weakness.
Did he see Justine
’
s actions as a sign of weakness or of strength.

The jurors were all in place and only the judge remained absent.

“All rise!” the bailiff
’
s voice rang out.

The judge re-entered and sat.
The rest of the courtroom sat down but the tension hung in the air as they waited while a piece of paper was passed from the foreman of the jury to the judge via the Clerk of the court.
The judge opened it and perused it briefly.

“Proceed Mr. Clerk,” said the judge.

“The prisoner will rise and face the jury.”

Justine rose and looked at the man whom she had singled out to represent her in the jury room.

“The foreman of the jury will rise and face the prisoner.”

The foreman rose with firm dignity.

“Mr. Foreman, in the case of the People of the State of
New York
versus Justine Levy have you reached a verdict on which you are all agreed?”

“We have.”

“What say you?”

The foreman of the jury stated the verdict.
But before doing so, at least according to a reporter from the
New York Post
, he winked at Justine.

Declan heard it, incredulously.
The bitch had openly admitted the whole story from the witness stand, positively bragged about it, and this jury was letting her out onto the streets.

By now the spectators had broken out into pandemonium, after the initial gasp and then the pause of pregnant silence.
The judge rapped with his gavel to restore order.

“Miss Levy you are an extremely fortunate young woman.
You are free to go.”
Then, turning to the jury he added: “Members of the jury.
I thank you for your services.
You are hereby discharged.
Court is adjourned.”

The judge rose and the court again erupted into pandemonium.
In the ensuing chaos, Declan jumped over the railing that separated the spectator
’
s section from the front of the courtroom.

“Now you
’
re going to die you fascist bitch!" he screamed, pulling out the Colt 45 from his pocket.

He swung gun towards her looking around to see where the bailiffs were.
In
 
the split second that he wasted, Parker leapt up and dived at him, deflecting the gun upwards just as the Irishman squeezed the trigger.
The gun barked, its lethal projectile harming no one, but bringing splinters of plaster down from the ceiling as journalists and spectators ducked for cover.
While Parker struggled with Declan and several more shots were fired into the air, a bailiff pulled out his handgun and managed to squeeze off a clear shot at Declan, hitting his body armour and leaving him unharmed.

In shock at having come so close to being hit himself, Parker reeled backwards, off balance.
The bailiff was trying to calm a frantic middle-aged matron while Declan staggered over to Justine and met her eye to eye, holding the gun aimed at her head.
She clawed at the gun in a frantic effort to deflect it upward as Declan fired. She fell backward with a red spot on her temple and cried out in pain as Parker spun round with a look of horror on his face.

For what seemed like an eternity Declan and Parker eyeballed each other, Parker with fury, Declan with what seemed to Parker like the indifference of an android.
Parker knew that there was no way he could get across the space that separated them without being shot.
But Abrams, who was crouched on the ground behind Declan, had seen what had happened and he was ideally poised to act.
Drawing on the collegiate boxing skills which had never deserted him, he dived at Declan, spun him round with his left hand and knocked him backwar
d
s with a single, ferocious right hook.
The gun fell from his hand.
Without pausing Declan dived onto it, but by now he had lost the initiative.
As his hand scooped up the gun a shot rang out from one of bailiffs. A spot of blood appeared in the
centre
of Declan
’
s forehead, and the INLA terrorist fell dead with a powerful thud on the courtroom floor.

The panic continued all around them, but Parker looked at Abrams for a few seconds and Abrams saw the gratitude in Parker
’
s eyes, forcing its way through the young man
’
s tears.
A few yards away, the judge was having a word with the Clerk of the Court.

“I thought it might be better for you to leave this way,” the judge told Parker.
He was still wearing his robes, having huddled Parker out of the room and led him to his chambers by a long and tortuous route to avoid the more tenacious members of the press corps.

“Let the police get the situation under control,” the judge continued.
“And let the press deal with the public chaos, not with the your private feelings.
You
’
ve earned the right to peace and quiet.”

Parker knew that the judge was being gentle with him.
After what he had been through it was not unreasonable.
But Parker was grateful, and relieved.

“Is there any way of getting out without the press noticing?”

“There
’
s a rear exit where they make deliveries.”

“Thank you.”

“You know Rick, as you
’
re a lawyer, and maybe a judge some day, I think there
’
s something you ought to know.
It
’
s not a judge
’
s job to preach.
But
–
” he jerked his finger towards the door
–
”
that
’
s
what happens when people start taking the law into their own hands.”

Parker nodded in quiet understanding.

“You know... it
’
s funny...” he said.

“What is?”

“Justine told me that her mother once said to her: ”whatever you do
–
do it well. And you know what?
She did. She did it so damn well, she made the rest of us look like fools.”

The Judge put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

*     *

It was ten minutes later when the rear door opened.
Parker stepped out and looked around.
He held his head up to the fresh air and breathed deeply.

He looked around again.
There was no one about.
He looked back at the door and gave the signal.
Justine stepped out, her head bandaged where the bullet had grazed her, and looked around.
They exchanged conspiratorial glances and walked down the street.

“I
’
m glad I was of some use to you in the end,” said Parker

“You were great Rick.”

“You know it looked like you weren
’
t even afraid.”

“I was more frightened than I looked.
I
just
didn
’
t
show it.
I
 
guess my trouble always was I didn
’
t like to show my emotions.”

“Were you frightened during the trial?”

“I don
’
t know.
I suppose I always knew that I might end up behind bars for life.
But it was overshadowed by the image of my mother wasting away in that hospital bed and the smug face of Murphy telling me that he had the right to kill the man who could have saved her.”

“You know you could have killed Murphy without exposing your identity.

“I know... but then I wouldn
’
t have been true to myself.”

They reached an intersection.
There was no one else about.
Parker pointed right.

“I left my car back there.
Can I give you a ride anywhere?”

“I need to be alone for a while... just for a few hours... maybe a few days.”

“I understand,” he said, looking sad but not hurt.
He realized that this was it, the parting of the ways.
He felt a tinge of regret, anticipating the emptiness in his life that would follow, w
o
ndering how long it would take to get over her.

He walked off in one direction, she in the other.
When a distance had opened up between them
,
Justine turned.

“Hey Rick!”
she called out.
She saw him turn and look at her across the distance.
Then, w
ithout a trace of pity in her voice she added:
“I
’
ll call you tonight!”

THE END

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