A Kinder City, page 23
President West rests her chin on her fingers. A brown folder lies on her desk.
‘Proceed.’
Ferris wear his full dress uniform, gold braid on both epaulettes, the peaked cap gripped under his left arm. Adam Mann, in Captain’s uniform, with the triple row of ribbons above his breast pocket, stands behind him. David notices a framed photograph of a young man in an academic gown with dark hair and a scroll held across his chest on the President’s desk. He has the same cheek-bones as she does and the same set mouth.
‘Madam,’ Ferris clears his throat. ‘You have already received my report on Franklin’s activities. I have further evidence that you will wish to hear. A villager, Ms Sarah Cordell, and my agent, Mr David Ashwood, have both been imprisoned and forced to work against their will in his factories.
I submit that this contravenes the One Law. Franklin’s account must face full audit.’
The President taps the folder on her desk.
‘Mr Franklin is one of our most prominent citizens and our most successful Entrepreneur. He brings wealth and success. He is always careful to make sure that the other Entrepreneurs receive a share of the profits in his schemes. People, the people who count in Market World, like him. You came to me recently with allegations about breaches of the One Law in the villages and beyond in the valley. I’m afraid I cannot act on those claims. They are simply one person’s view, Franklin will deny them and the City will be left with substantial legal costs.’
Sarah mutters:
‘It’s my view too. Don’t I count?’
The President glances at her as if she were an impediment.
‘Ms Cordell. I understand you were recently called to account for a major breach by Commander Ferris’ Enforcers. That does not enhance your standing as a witness.’
David cuts in: ‘But we have been to the villages, we have been to the Secret Valley, we have been his prisoners and suffered his tortures. The scar in Sarah – Ms Cordell’s – side comes from his weapons. We have seen his crimes.’
The President holds up her hand.
‘Crime is a word with consequences. Please refer to “Alleged misdemeanours and breaches” and please understand me. I am sympathetic to your position but you must understand mine. You are asking the City to take action against a man of immense wealth and impeccable standing on the word of a convict who contradicts herself and an impressionable young man who has fallen in with her. You will make me a laughing stock. I face an election in six months. I must be practical.’
She does not smile.
‘Thank you for coming to see me.’
Ferris stands very straight.
‘Very well. I believe heinous breaches of the Law are taking place. Just because a criminal is powerful does not mean he should be permitted to act as he chooses. I urge you to bring him to account. I shall continue investigations.’
‘Be careful Commander. Harassment can entail heavy recompense.’
‘This is nonsense.’ Sarah has her eyes fixed on the President like a hawk on a rat. ‘Franklin works his victims to death. He causes mayhem in the Old Town. He poisons the air, the water, the land in the Valley. He destroys villages and villagers die. You know these things. Your duty is to protect us. Shame on you!’
The President sniffs.
‘Do you seriously expect me to answer that?’
‘Madam.’ A new voice breaks in, calm and deep, the same voice the man uses when addressing one person or a parade. Captain Mann takes one pace forwards and comes to attention.
‘I have been an Enforcer all my life. I knew the world before the One Law, I lived through the Great Hunger. The One Law saved us then and the Law makes us strong. Franklin insults that Law. I have my savings. I will take a private action against him.’
For a moment no-one speaks.
President West stares directly at him and remarks:
‘You may find it expensive to confront the richest man in Market World in open court.’
‘Nonetheless. It is my duty.’
He flicks back his cuff to show his wristband.
‘I have my savings. I will use them to uphold the law.’
Sarah folds her arms.
‘I have many friends in the Old Town who will contribute.’
‘I’ll chip in.’ says David, keeping his hand by his side. Maybe someone’ll give me a loan, he thinks.
Ferris holds out his wrist and the noughts march across the tiny screen.
‘I am not impoverished. I will contribute.’
Adam glances at him and, for one second, smiles.
Ferris adds:
‘Madam, consider: suppose Franklin is convicted and people become aware that the City failed to act, it may damage your election prospects. And there is the matter of the tractor. That was clearly a gift to secure a contract, in contravention of the Law.’
The President glances at him and at each of the others in turn. No-one moves.
‘Very well. The City will prosecute. The gift of the tractor is a clear Breach in front of witnesses, but it is a trivial matter. The balance between environmental penalties and economic gains from development is more … controversial. I will not authorise action in that matter. Best you stay out of it, Ms Cordell. You are a tarnished witness.’
Full Audit
David arranges coffee-cups, toast and marmalade on the tray. He balances a cut-out of an extravagant purple dahlia in a spare mug. It is the only flower he can find in the building.
He carries the tray through to the side-ward. Sarah rubs her hands together and her candid smile lights up her face.
‘Lovely. Just what I wanted. You haven’t got any eggs have you?’
‘See what I can do.’
Later, when she’s eaten and is dressed in borrowed jeans that don’t fit and a spare T-shirt and has wound the yellow scarf round her neck, they talk tactics.
Sarah looks up at him.
‘I’d really like to be called as a witness.’
‘President West thinks you’re a risk. They spent half the night telling me what to say.’
‘Who cares what she thinks? Even if they win on this tractor business he’ll wriggle out of it. Business as usual, that’s all Market World wants. Maybe she just wants people to think she’s doing something.’
He thinks of all the clever people in the courtroom, all determined to trip him up and watch him fall flat.
‘I know. But what else can we do?’
‘Yes, but if I can get him talking in front of everyone, he might just make a fool of himself. He’s so sure he’s right he doesn’t care what people think.’
David gazes at her.
‘Everybody likes him. He promises bigger profits and Market World loves that.’
‘Don’t forget I’ve talked to him face to face.’
‘I have to go in a minute, or it’ll be contempt of court.’
He puts his arms round her and they talk some more. Anyone watching them would think from their faces that they were discussing a business deal, and would be amazed at how they kissed each other on parting.
He walks out of the annex and into bright sunshine. City Square is already as packed as an ant-heap but people crowd in from all four boulevards. Still more flood in behind them, women and men, old and young, white and black, and the duty Enforcers marshal them into lines on either side of the main entrance to the Halls of Justice. There’s a continual hubbub of bargaining and wristband clicks and a flurry of traded places up and down the queue.
David spots a troop of academy students in their dark-blue uniforms. The professor in the mortar board at their head clicks wrists with the duty Enforcer, who opens a path through for them. An Entrepreneur in a suit that fits like an eel-skin attempts to follow them, holding his wrist out to make a deal, but is rebuffed.
David has already unfolded his court summons to show the Enforcer when he sees a group from the Old Town, distinctive in their gaudy dress, clustered to one side of the square. A horse neighs and a figure mounted on a black mare enters the square behind the townspeople, followed by another. People open a space for their mounts and they lead the group forward through the press of people. David grins: good for the Old Towners!
The lead figure stands in his stirrups, scans the crowd, waves and pushes towards him. Luke, in a scarlet, green and yellow chequerboard pattern suit with lapels wide enough to touch his shoulders, is mounted on Juno. And that must be Sam behind him, well cut camel jodhpurs and a tweed jacket with a black velvet riding hat. He waves back.
Luke leans down and grasps his hand.
‘David! So good to see you. Where’s Sarah? I’ve got some decent clothes for her. And we’ve brought the old fellow.’
He gestures. Sam beams at him. O’Connor sits astride Jupiter, his feet grazing the cobbles on both sides. He smiles at everything, David, Luke, Sam, the crowd, Juno, the Halls of Justice and Jupiter, and hums to himself. David recognises a tune from the feast. The mayor wears a long, striped gown, which gives him an air of great age and wisdom, and a tricorn hat.
David laughs at Luke’s costume.
‘You look like you’ve gone up in the world. Congratulations!’
‘Tell you about it later.’
David strokes Juno’s nose.
‘Wish me luck. I’m a witness.’
The mare sniffs at him and rests its violin cello head on his shoulder. Luke pulls on the reins and Juno backs away. David rubs her cheek.
‘Give her an extra apple from me, and I’ll see you soon. Sarah’s great, she’s resting back in sickbay, at least I hope she is. It’s in that building next to the Halls of Justice. She wants to be in the trial. Franklin’s going to get what he deserves.’
David sits on the wooden bench at one end of the witness room. It reminds him of his school-room. He stares at the picture on the wall opposite, an oil painting of a country market, long ago, like the one that used to hang behind the teacher’s desk in his classroom. It shows Franklin as he made the first deal with a group of villagers. Their cart’s behind them, piled so high with produce that the topmost apples would tumble off if you tried to move it. The horse rests docile between the shafts and reminds him of Juno. A younger Franklin, too slim to be the Franklin he knows, smiles as he clasps the hand of a full-bearded, open-faced villager in a brown leather jacket.
Slocum sits on a wooden chair next to the door into the courtroom and mops at his face with a large pink handkerchief. His glasses are pushed up on his forehead and he has the coffee-flask on the floor beside him. He avoids looking at David and mumbles something. The chair wobbles when he fidgets and the papers in the folder on his lap are on the verge of spilling onto the floor.
David calms his breathing: in through the nose on the count of five, out through the mouth on the count of seven. Sarah, Luke, Sam, and you, Juno, and you, Jupiter, he thinks, I won’t let you down. And you baby Mikey and Annie and Jeb. And all of you. He ignores Slocum and remembers the body of townspeople pushing into the square, his friends in court. The file in his own lap has his witness summons and a couple of printouts from newscasts in it, and his report. Why is Slocum’s folder so much thicker than his?
Slocum shuts the folder and opens the courtroom door a few inches. Warm air wafts through, carrying the rich tones of someone confident that their voice carries the ring of truth, because everyone knows it always carries the ring of truth.
‘…I will now call the witness to Mr Franklin’s negotiations with the villagers at the Pettiford moot.’
David takes a deep breath and gets to his feet. As he passes Slocum the clerk looks up and catches his eye and mutters something about the prospects for Mr Franklin’s friends ‘in the programme.’
David seizes his wrist and grips it.
‘I’ve been to the Secret Valley. You should see it for yourself.’
Slocum shakes himself free and David passes through the door and into Courtroom One. His first impression is of the height of the chamber, as if he’d emerged from a burrow onto a hillside, and of the bright daylight, slanting in from the tall windows overlooking City Square. Next he becomes aware of the faces of the people who pack the courtroom all turned up to him, like a flock of sheep.
A young woman in a dark gown takes his sleeve and leads him forward to an upright chair with a wooden barrier topped by a brass rail in front of it.
The Assessor, a tall black man with a thin face and sharp eyes, sits on a high-backed leather chair behind an oak table on a raised platform. A wooden gavel lies by his right hand. Rachel West is on his left, still on her feet from her opening presentation of the case against Franklin. The chair to his right, the place reserved for the Guild-Master of the Entrepreneurs, is empty. The golden balance, emblem of Market World, stands at the corner of the table.
Franklin sits directly opposite David at a small deal table which resembles a schoolroom desk. It’s too small for him and his belly sags over it. The mane of yellow hair sits like a beret on his head and the F in his lapel catches the light. He catches David’s eye and winks at him.
David casts his eyes round the room as he is taken through a form of words he recalls from his Enforcer training: identity, affirmation, credit-worthiness. Courtroom One is packed. Entrepreneurs in suits, with their assistants behind them, fill the front rows, then there’s a bench of students from the academy. A young woman quite openly offers a bag of toffees to her friends.
The rest of the room is crammed with ordinary citizens, women and men in dull blue and brown serge or corduroy. Some of them have brought their children, who sit with serious faces, their hands in their laps, not fidgeting. A knot of citizens from the Old Town brighten the room towards the back, continually in motion. He can hear the whispered conversations volleying back and forth among them from where he is standing.
The Assessor glowers at them and turns his gaze on David.
‘Mr David Ashwood. Your witness, President West.’
The President smiles at him, thin-lipped.
‘Mr Ashwood. I believe you were present at the moot in Pettiford.’
He looks up at the townspeople at the back and spots Luke, and his heart leaps like a salmon. He raises his voice, as if to address Luke alone.
‘I was. I was there with Ms Cordell and her family.’
His voice seems over-loud in the silent courtroom.
The President nods.
‘Good. Please just confine your answers to the question. Now, did Mr Franklin make a gift to the villagers?’
‘He did. He announced it immediately after he lost the debate with Ms Cordell. It is my belief that…’
The President claps her hands and cuts in.
‘Thank you.’ She’s no longer smiling. ‘Did Mr Franklin ask for anything in return for his gift?’
The Assessor frowns at him. He’s doing well.
‘No, Madam. Ms Cordell believes it was a bribe…’
‘Objection.’
An older woman with white hair and a thin, seamed face, dressed in a black silk gown, a white ruff at her throat, is on her feet. She glares at him with glittering eyes. He tries not to wince.
‘The court is not enquiring into the actions or beliefs of Ms Cordell.’
The Assessor speaks as if fatigued.
‘Sustained.’
President West allows her gaze to range across the courtroom.
‘Very well. We have demonstrated that Mr Franklin made gifts to the villagers in direct contravention of the Law. Perhaps he thought of them as simple people who would not suspect the artifice in his actions.’
She sits and the Assessor murmurs:
‘Your witness, Ms Jarman.’
The white-haired woman addresses him in a pleasant voice.
‘Mr Ashwood. You resigned from the Enforcers earlier this year, I believe. Why?’
He hesitates. His mind is as empty as a blown egg. He sees a movement in the shadows under the balcony. Adam Mann stands there watching him, with an expression on his face that is almost as if he were praying.
‘I…I felt unhappy with the direction my career was taking.’
‘Perhaps I can clarify things for you. The statements of earlier witnesses,’ she gestures to a folder on the Assessor’s desk, ‘show that you met senior Enforcers and the President and alleged that Mr Franklin had abducted Ms Cordell. You requested that the Enforcers should call Mr Franklin to account, which they quite properly refused to do. Ms Cordell was lawfully undergoing re-education in the programme operated for the City by Mr Franklin at the time. You also presented a report on the pilot work for Mr Franklin’s Development Proposal, prepared together with Ms Cordell, which makes further libellous allegations against Mr Franklin.’
Her voice hardens.
‘It will not surprise the court to learn that the City did not act on your report, either. You then became emotional and resigned from the Enforcers. You entered into a conspiracy with others to use violence against Mr Franklin’s employees, break into his factories and sabotage his operations. President West was present at these meetings. I understand she does not dispute these statements. Mr Ashwood am I right?’
The President shakes her head. The Assessor taps his gavel against the stand.
‘Please. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that the charge concerns the alleged gift of a tractor. Once again, please direct your questions to the matter in hand.’
The Counsel bows to him.
‘Thank you, sir. I merely wish to establish that this witness is prejudiced against Mr Franklin and that the suggestion that he might speak with the authority of an Enforcer is highly misleading. No further questions.’
‘I note the points you make. Mr Ashwood, please sit. We may need you later. Mr Franklin, have you anything to say before I arrive at my determination of the case?’
