A Prisoner of Birth by Jeffrey Archer Read Free Book Online Page A

innocent."
    "That's not your job," responded his father. "That's for the jury to decide."
    "Now
you're
sounding like Mr. Justice Sackville," Alex said with a laugh.
    "It's your job," continued his father, ignoring the comment, "to present the best possible defense for your client, whether he is guilty or not."
    His father had clearly forgotten that he'd first proffered this piece of advice when Alex was seven years old, and had repeated it countless times since. By the time Alex went up to Oxford as an undergraduate, he was ready to sit his law degree.
    "And Beth Wilson, what sort of witness do you imagine she'll make?" his father asked.
    "A distinguished silk once told me," replied Alex, tugging the lapels of his jacket pompously, "that you can never anticipate how a witness will turn out until they enter the box."
    Alex's mother burst out laughing. "Touché," she said as she cleared the plates and disappeared into the kitchen.
    "And don't underestimate Pearson," said his father, ignoring his wife's interruption. "He's at his best when it comes to cross-examining a defense witness."
    "Is it possible to underestimate Mr. Arnold Pearson QC?" asked Alex, smiling.
    "Oh, yes, I did so to my cost on two occasions."
    "So were two innocent men convicted of crimes they didn't commit?" asked Alex.
    "Certainly not," replied his father. "Both of them were as guilty as sin, but I still should have got them off. Just remember, if Pearson spots a weakness in your defense he'll return to it again and again, until he's sure that it's the one point the jury remember when they retire."
    "Can I interrupt learned counsel, to ask how Susan is?" asked his mother as she poured Alex a coffee.
    "Susan?" said Alex, snapping back into the real world.
    "That charming girl you brought down to meet us a couple of months ago."
    "Susan Rennick? I've no idea. I'm afraid we've lost touch. I don't think the Bar is compatible with having a personal life. Heaven knows how you two ever got together."
    "Your mother fed me every night during the Carbarshi trial. If I hadn't married her, I would have died of starvation."
    "That easy?" said Alex, grinning at his mother.
    "Not quite that easy," she replied. "After all, the trial lasted for over two years—and he lost."
    "No, I didn't," said his father, placing an arm around his wife's waist."Just be warned, my boy, Pearson's not married, so he'll be spending his entire weekend preparing devilish questions for Beth Wilson."
     

     
     
    They hadn't granted him bail.
    Danny had spent the past six months locked up in Belmarsh high-security prison in southeast London. He languished for twenty-two hours a day in a cell eight foot by six, the sole furnishings a single bed, a formica table, a plastic chair, a small steel washbasin and a steel lavatory. A tiny barred window high above his head was his only view of the outside world. Every afternoon they allowed him out of the cell for forty-five minutes, when he would jog around the perimeter of a barren yard—a concrete acre surrounded by a sixteen-foot wall topped with razor wire.
    "I'm innocent," he repeated whenever anyone asked, to which the prison staff and his fellow inmates inevitably responded, "That's what they all say."
    As Danny jogged around the yard that morning, he tried not to think about how the first week of the trial had gone, but it proved impossible. Despite looking carefully at each member of the jury, he had no way of knowing what they were thinking. It might not have been a good first week, but at least Beth would now be able to tell her side of the story. Would the jury believe her, or would they accept Spencer Craig's version of what had happened? Danny's father never stopped reminding him that British justice was the best in the world—innocent men just don't end up in prison. If that was true, he would be free in a week's time. He tried not to consider the alternative.
     

     
     
    Arnold Pearson QC had also spent his weekend in the country, at