Page 54 of Dying Truth

Noah Gless had been the Four of Spades in the mid-sixties. He had gone on to become the head teacher of an exclusive all-boys school in Kent. For fifteen years his sexual abuse of young boys had remained secret. Until an eight-year-old had told a nurse while being treated for a broken arm. His admission had brought forward a flood of complaints. All correct and horrific.

Noah Gless was charged with thirty-four counts of sexual assault. The Spades had formed a wall of protection around him. His barrister pleaded diminished responsibility based on the sworn testimony of an eminent psychiatrist. Noah was sentenced to five years in a mental health facility, which was appealed down to three, and he walked free within a year.

‘I didn’t do it, I swear,’ Seven reiterated.

The Joker searched his face. And believed him.

‘Okay, cards, reach for your glasses,’ the Joker instructed.

All cards took the shot glass placed in front of their chair. A small measure of whisky had been poured into each one, as was the custom if a card died. It was barely a mouthful and reserved only for a death in the family.

‘To Six,’ the Joker said, raising his glass and drinking the shot.

The cards all followed suit and placed their glasses on the table.

The Joker nodded to the King on his right, who collected up the glasses.

‘And now to congratulate Five, Four, Three, Two and Ace who all move up a card. Well done to you all.’

The Joker waited for a few seconds before continuing.

‘We have two small matters to deal with before the process of choosing a new Ace. First, Nine has an important basketball game in two weeks’ time. He needs to practise. Who volunteers to take his homework?’

The hands were slow to rise but eventually three cards offered their services.

‘Seven,’ said the Joker. ‘That one is yours.’

Seven nodded.

‘Secondly, Eight is being bullied by his biology classmates for passing out when dissecting a frog.’

The King’s hand was first in the air, and the Joker nodded in his direction. ‘I’ll trust you to suitably advise the boys concerned.’

The Joker hesitated for a moment, reaching to the side of the chair. ‘Okay, our next order of business is to choose a new Ace.’

He lifted a pinboard that held two A4 photographs.

‘Take out your pins,’ he instructed.

Each card reached into their pocket and produced a black Spade tiepin that had once been worn with pride. But now remained hidden in trouser pockets.

Tradition dictated that the Joker would propose two possibilities to join the suit and give the reasons why.

Right now the room contained two potential world class athletes, a musician, a boy already on his way to medical school, an artist, a boy who had joined Mensa before he reached the age of six, the son of a cabinet minister, a banker, and the sons of two international businessmen.

The Joker pointed to the first photograph. ‘I have proposed subject one as his father has recently been awarded an MBE for setting up a charitable education initiative in Uganda.’

The cards nodded in response.

The Joker pointed to the second photograph. ‘I have proposed subject two because both of his parents are successful barristers.’

The proposal needed no further explanation. Just as many children followed their parents through the education system, they followed their careers too. There was a good possibility that subject two would also choose to enter the legal profession and be useful in the future.

The Joker sat back. ‘Okay, cards, you know what to do.’

The King thrust his left hand forward and used the Spade pin to prick his thumb. He waited for the bubble of blood to form before smudging it onto the face of the photo of his choice.

The process continued around the table, ending with the Jack.