necessary to deploy in order to arrest one man and one woman who were in bed at two o'clock in the morning?" Fuller hesitated. "How many, chief inspector?"
"Fourteen."
"Wasn't it more like twenty?" said Alex.
"If you count the back-up team, it might have been twenty."
"Sounds a little excessive for one man and one woman," suggested Alex.
"He may have been armed," said Fuller. "That was a risk I wasn't willing to take."
"Was he, in fact, armed?" asked Alex.
"No he was not..."
"Perhaps not for the first time-" began Alex.
"That's quite enough, Mr. Redmayne," said the judge, interrupting before he could finish the sentence.
"Good try," said Alex's father, loud enough for everyone in the courtroom to hear.
"Do you wish to make a contribution, Sir Matthew?" snapped the judge.
Alex's father opened his eyes like a jungle beast that had been woken from a deep sleep. He rose slowly from his place and said, "How kind of you to ask, my lord. But no, not at this juncture. Possibly later." He slumped back in his place.
The press benches were suddenly jolted into action as the first boundary was scored. Alex pursed his lips for fear he would burst out laughing. Mr. Justice Hackett could barely restrain himself.
"Get on with it, Redmayne," said the judge, but before Alex could respond, his father was back on his feet. "I do apologize, m'lord," he said sweetly, "but which Redmayne did you have in mind?"
This time the jury burst out laughing. The judge made no attempt to reply, and Sir Matthew sank back in his seat, closed his eyes and whispered, "Go for the jugular, Alex."
"Chief inspector, you told the court that it was after you had seen Miss Wilson enter the house that you became convinced that it was Daniel Cartwright and not Sir Nicholas Moncrieff who was living there."
"Yes, that's correct," said Fuller, still gripping the side of the witness box.
"But once you had taken my client into custody, chief inspector, didn't you have a moment's anxiety about whether you might have arrested the wrong man?"
"No, Mr. Redmayne, not after I'd seen the scar on his..."
"Not after you'd seen the scar on his-"
"-checked his DNA on the police computer," said the chief inspector.
"Sit down," whispered Alex's father. "You've got everything you need, and Hackett won't have worked out the significance of the scar."
"Thank you, chief inspector. No more questions, m'lord."
"Do you wish to reexamine this witness, Mr. Pearson?" asked Mr. Justice Hackett.
"No, thank you, m'lord," said Pearson, who was writing down the words not after I'd seen the scar on his... and trying to work out their significance.
"Thank you, chief inspector," said the judge. "You may leave the witness box."
Alex leaned over to his father as the chief inspector made his way out of the courtroom and whispered, "But I didn't get him to admit that the 'professional gentleman' was in fact Craig."
"That man was never going to name his contact, but you still managed to trap him twice. And don't forget, there's another witness who must also know who reported Danny to the police, and he's certainly not going to feel at home in a courtroom, so you should be able to corner him long before Hackett works out what your real purpose is. Never forget we can't afford to make the same mistake as we did with Lord Justice Browne and the unplayed tape." Alex nodded as Mr. Justice Hackett turned his attention to counsel's bench. "Perhaps this would be a good time to take a break."
"All rise."
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE
ARNOLD PEARSON WAS deep in conversation with his junior when Mr. Justice Hackett said in a loud voice, "Are you ready to call your next witness, Mr. Pearson?"
Pearson rose from his place. "Yes, m'lord. I call Sir Hugo Moncrieff."
Alex watched Sir Hugo carefully as he entered the courtroom. Never prejudge a witness, his father had taught him from the cradle, but Hugo was clearly nervous. He took a handkerchief out of his top pocket and mopped his brow even before he had reached the witness box.
The usher guided Sir Hugo into the box and handed him a Bible. The witness read the oath from the card that was held up in front of him, then looked up toward the gallery, searching for the person he wished was giving evidence in his place. Mr. Pearson gave him a warm smile when he looked back down.
"Sir Hugo, would you just for the record state your name and address?"
"Sir Hugo Moncrieff, the Manor House, Dunbroath in Scotland."
"Let me begin, Sir Hugo,