Page 47 of The Quarterlands (Dark Water #4)

Chapter Thirteen

Josiah

The first day of Tyler’s trial dawned bright and sunny. Josiah came downstairs to find Alex sitting in the kitchen wearing a smart burgundy suit, a grey shirt, and a pair of highly polished shoes. Josiah’s shoes were on the kitchen mat, also polished to a high shine.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Josiah sat at the table and pulled on his shoes.

“Nope. Spent the night polishing. Did some ironing, too, and some cooking.” Alex nodded at a pile of freezer containers.

“Batch-cooked some food to last us through the trial. Thought we might not be in the mood to cook during… and frankly dreading how much takeaway hachée you’ll make me eat.

” Alex shot him a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Josiah reached across the table and squeezed his arm. “Hachée is delicious,” he said solemnly. “Food of the gods.”

Alex managed a little laugh. “I can’t believe the day has finally arrived.”

“Because of you. You hung on in there and made this happen, Alex.”

“And you – you took it on. Most investigators wouldn’t have believed me.”

“There’s a chance the jury won’t, either,” Josiah warned him. “I’m trying to manage your expectations. Our case isn’t as strong as I’d like, and Tyler has engaged some very expensive lawyers.

“You gave it your best shot.” Alex smiled at him. “If we lose, we go down fighting. You hungry? I cooked you breakfast.” He gestured at the frying pan on the hob.

“Not in the mood,” Josiah said with a sigh.

“Me neither. Couldn’t eat right now if you paid me.” Alex stood up. “Shall we go, then?”

“Yup.” Josiah finished tying his shoelaces and got to his feet. He was wearing one of his finest suits – a charcoal-grey three-piece, with a burgundy silk tie and matching pocket square. Without trying, he and Alex matched, their outfits complementing each other.

“Wait.” Alex put a hand on his chest. “You’re missing something.” He produced the little silver chocolate box and tucked it into Josiah’s pocket. “In case you get peckish in court.”

Josiah smiled and pressed a kiss to Alex’s cheek.

The little shared rituals were what he’d loved so much about being married to Peter.

As much as he wanted this trial over and done with, he also dreaded it because then, regardless of the outcome, Alex would leave, and his life would return to what it had been before.

No more chocolate box rituals, nobody to sit next to on the sofa in the evenings.

He and Alex might not be a couple, but they’d shared this house for almost a year and become accustomed to each other’s ways.

Josiah would love him to remain forever, but it wasn’t in their hands.

It was true he still had Gideon’s offer of money to help him buy Alex’s contract, but he didn’t think it was wise to count on that.

He took a deep breath, adjusted his tie, and then held out his hand.

“Let’s go.”

The High Court was based in a plain, functional building on Ghost Eye.

Long gone were the days of the Old Bailey and barristers in wigs and gowns scurrying through the Inns of Court.

Justice in post-Rising Britain took place in more mundane settings and the lawyers wore suits.

The cash-strapped state had outsourced the process and paraphernalia of upholding the law to private companies, just as they had with investigation.

Many aspects of the legal process had changed, too. Not necessarily for the better, but it was the best they could do right now. Josiah had to hope it would be enough to see George Tyler brought to justice.

He knew the presiding judge to be a fair woman, but she was also brusque and impatient with grandstanding lawyers.

Maybe that would work in their favour. He’d worked closely with the prosecution for months, and they’d put together the best case they could.

The years of footage from all the smartwalls at Tyler’s houses had never been found.

He was sure the servers they resided on were located in some foreign jurisdiction, far out of the reach of British law enforcement.

He’d searched everywhere but had uncovered nothing that even spoke to the existence of those compromising files.

Tyler had insisted any footage taken inside his home was for security, and that it was usually deleted after a month.

He’d even supplied detailed logs showing the process in action, and it was exactly as he said.

Of course it was. Josiah knew he was dealing with a very slick operator in George Tyler. Nothing would have been left to chance.

The one place he’d been unable to search was Tyler’s Spanish property.

The authorities there, locked in an arcane battle with their British counterparts that went back to the Rising and was so complicated that nobody fully understood it, refused to allow any investigation on Spanish soil.

Tyler would have known that, of course. Josiah had no doubt that was why he’d bought the property in Spain in the first place.

He was certain that either hard copies of the blackmail footage were being stored there or even that the hacienda housed the servers containing the original material proving the extent of Tyler’s blackmail operations.

Without the kompromat, they were reliant on eye-witness testimony of Tyler’s treatment of Alex and his occasional wild rages.

Tyler’s lawyer, Henry Marshall-Shaw, was the most expensive money could buy, almost as much of a celebrity as Tyler himself. He was so well known that he was referred to by his initials – HMS – on all the popular media sites.

“Sounds like a bloody ship,” Josiah observed. HMS looked like one, too; he was a man of large buttressing, much given to dramatically sallying forth across the courtroom to play to the jury. Josiah loathed him.

The prosecution team was led by Mona Byrne, a short, stocky, foul-mouthed Irishwoman, who was always ferociously well prepared in their meetings and like a dog with a bone when she sensed weakness. Josiah often hadn’t enjoyed their encounters, and he hoped that Tyler would feel the same way.

The news crews were out in force outside the court building. It had been dubbed “The Trial of the Century”, and was all that anybody was talking about.

The Indiehunter Versus the Tycoon! was the headline on the large screen outside the court, together with unflattering photos of both himself and Tyler.

Josiah knew his reputation was on the line.

Tyler might walk all over his carefully prepared case, and then the famous indiehunter would be crucified by a media that already thought he’d been seduced by the pretty face of a notorious liar.

All major trials were broadcast on livestream. In an age of smartwalls, holovids, contact lens cams, and other sophisticated tech, the state had given up trying to control what the juries or witnesses were privy to during the process. It was imperfect, but then so many of their systems were.

Josiah shielded Alex from the media scrum as best he could and they scrambled breathlessly into the court building.

The Inquisitus team was already there – Esther, Sofie, Reed, and Mel – together with all the prosecution lawyers. Only Esther would stay for the proceedings. The others were simply there to offer support at the start of the trial.

Ted was in court, too, with his wife beside him, a plump woman with bleached-blond hair and a fearless expression.

Mick was next to them, squeezed into a suit two sizes too small that barely stretched over his belly.

Charles and Noah were standing in a little huddle with Elsie. All were there to support Alex.

Josiah found it hard to look at Charles without wanting to punch him, but he managed a coolly polite greeting. He saved a warmer welcome for Noah, who he’d come to rather like, and pulled Elsie into his usual bear hug. Then they moved into the courtroom and took their seats.

Tyler and his team were already inside. Their adversary looked more cadaverous than ever, without a scrap of spare flesh on him, his body tautly muscled.

Alex had told him that Tyler coped with stress by eating less and working out more.

Judging by his appearance, he was extremely stressed right now, which gave Josiah a smidgen of comfort; at least Tyler wasn’t entirely confident the case would go his way.

Tyler was dressed from head to foot in his trademark black. As they entered, he glanced across the court and shot Alex a dark and sinister smile. Josiah drew Alex’s attention away, not wanting him to be spooked.

The court was called to order. There were some tedious formalities.

The jury selection process had already taken place and both sides were comfortable with it.

Josiah watched as the twelve men and women took their seats, looking solemn but with an undercurrent of excitement at being present at this famous a trial.

The judge entered, the courtroom fell silent… and then it began.

Byrne gave the opening statement for the prosecution.

“George Tyler is charged with the manslaughter of an indentured servant in his care and employ, one Solange Alajika.” She outlined the basics of the prosecution case and described what had happened on the night Solange was killed.

“Mr Tyler might not have meant to kill Ms Alajika, but he certainly intended to punish her for her part in Mr Lytton’s escape.

The situation got out of hand, resulting in her death: a death that Mr Tyler subsequently hushed up by disposing of the body in a lost zone under cover of darkness.

The defence will argue that the DNA evidence does not match that of Ms Alajika in the IS agency database.

We would move that the evidence has been tampered with at the behest of Mr Tyler by an agency official who was being blackmailed. ”

A low rumble went around the room. It was all shaping up to be extremely spicy.