Part 29 (1/2)

They found a wine bar and took two stools by the window Mr Lachaise ordered half a bottle of Brouilly 'I trust you are well?' he enquired paternally.

'No.'

'Neither am I.'

'Cheers.'

They sipped a disconsolate communion. Lucy said: 'I simply cannot understand Mr Bartlett's last remark - about saving one child and therefore not choosing to harm another. It's rubbish.'

Mr Lachaise turned his gla.s.s in small, tight circles, bringing the wine up to the rim. 'It is rhetoric, not logic. Words well used. It is also deliberately ambiguous. To save a child means opposition to the system of killing, at least in that one instance. But it also means knowledge of the system that claimed the lives of all the others - and, given his partic.i.p.ation in what happened, that should be enough to convict him. Mr Bartlett, however, is gambling that the ambiguity will tilt in his client's favour. '

'But why should it? If The Round Table knew what ”resettlement” meant, so did Schwermann,' said Lucy 'I know. And so does Mr Bartlett. That is why he has done what every advocate does with a strong point that can't be refuted.'

'What's that?'

'He's ignored it, as if it wasn't there. In its place he's planted a seed of pity for an unsung hero.'

'But the jury can't fall for that.'

Mr Lachaise shook his head. 'Sometimes, we all like to think the right answer can only be found by making the most difficult decision, the one we're at first inclined to reject. It shows we took the matter seriously. My dear old mentor, Mr Bremer, used to say nothing more than pity serves to tip the balance.'

'I hope he's wrong.'

'So do I.'

He expressed agreement with such feeling that Lucy looked up, and she was shocked to see the awesome distress upon his face.

4.

By early evening DI Armstrong had still not returned Anselm's message. Idle waiting seemed an offence against the circ.u.mstances. He fidgeted anxiously in his room, rehearsing the future. What if Agnes' being alive made no difference to Victor Brionne ... and he refused to go to the police voluntarily? A yawning hole seemed to open before him, all the more frightening because Anselm had already decided to fall into it. It was not helpful to see the expanding dimensions beforehand. Without thinking, Anselm picked up the telephone and rang Salomon Lachaise.

They met at the same restaurant as before, sat at the same table and were served by the same waiter. The repet.i.tion of the past had the mark of ceremony and under its weight Anselm disclosed to his companion everything he had concealed on the last occasion: including his own role in finding Victor Brionne.

'I am deeply sorry - I presented one person to you when in fact I was another.'

'That is true of all of us,' replied Salomon Lachaise. 'Sometimes it cannot be avoided. You do not need my forgiveness, but you have it.' He fixed Anselm with a piercing gaze and said, 'Are you really prepared to go to the police and bring down your own life, the reputation of your church, your community?'

'Yes.' He was embarra.s.sed by the simplicity of his reply.

Salomon Lachaise removed his heavy framed spectacles, revealing the vulnerable skin kept behind thick gla.s.s. He said, 'Anselm, go to see Victor Brionne, by all means. And deliver the message to Agnes Aubret. But promise me two things.'

'Of course.

'First do nothing else until after the case is over-'

'But-'

'Promise me.' His voice ground out the words.

'All right.'

'And secondly,' he said, 'please put your habit back on. To me you're a monk to the core ... and appearances matter.'

Anselm got back to St Catherine's to find a message pinned to his door: DI Armstrong had rung and would meet him on Thursday evening at 5 p.m. on the steps of St Paul's. She could see him no earlier because of a murder enquiry. Anselm entered his room and immediately lifted his habit off the bed and smuggled himself into its folds. He then tiptoed down to the oratory on the first floor. Sitting in the dark, he could not escape the sensation that Salomon Lachaise had already known a great deal of what he had said, but one question in particular returned again and again: why had he forbidden Anselm to act to his detriment when it was required by what he had done and what he knew? Anselm's imagination was perhaps too easily excited, but he sensed his mysterious friend was about to cast an appalling light upon the tragedy that had engulfed him.

Chapter Forty-One.

1.

Mr Lachaise rang Lucy and suggested they meet for lunch in Gray's Inn Gardens at half past one. He did not propose to attend the end of the Summing-Up. Neither did Lucy at least not all of it. The slow treading-over of the evidence was an unbearable form of waiting.

The gardens lay off Theobald's Road, neatly circ.u.mscribed by mansions of the law, elegant screens of pale magenta brick with regular white-framed windows like rows of pictures. Lucy strolled along a narrow pa.s.sage into Field Court, a tight enclosure adjacent to an ornate pair of wrought-iron gates, resting between two pillars. Surmounting each was a fabulous beast with the head and wings of an eagle. She paused to study the strange, seated guardians. They threatened to suddenly move, relinquis.h.i.+ng stone; to slink, warm-breathed, off their pedestals and wreak wrath and mercy upon High Holborn. What did they protect? Nothing. Whom did they save? No one. When would the day of reckoning come? Never. What were they other than dismal protestations at the absence of angels?

Lucy pa.s.sed between them into the gardens. A lane of polished gravel unrolled between short trees, plump courtiers on afternoon parade. Benches, set well apart, secured leisure with privacy. Upon one of them sat Mr Lachaise, talking earnestly to Max Nightingale.

They did not hear her approach. Lucy sidled to the edge of the path, in line with the bench, reducing the chance of being seen. She harboured a not altogether irrational suspicion that Mr Lachaise had met Max first on purpose. As she drew near, she heard his distinctive, appealing voice say: 'Regardless of what you have said, do as I ask. Do nothing. Rest a.s.sured, there is no need.'

Then, unfortunately she was seen. However, the conversation ran on in an entirely innocent fas.h.i.+on, which rather disappointed Lucy. She had liked the idea of consecutive meetings, up-turned collars and secret conversations. Mr Lachaise continued talking as he beckoned Lucy with his hand: 'You might think your paintings are not especially good, but I'm confident my colleagues will come to another conclusion. As I have said, leave it all to me. The University will issue the invitation; after that it's all very simple. Ah, Lucy do join us.

Lucy shook Max's hand. Seeing him outside the courtroom lit his absence from the trial as a sort of failure, as though he'd left her and Mr Lachaise on the front line. How peculiar, she reflected. He's from the other side.

'I've brought along some very Jewish provisions, said Mr Lachaise, opening a large plastic bag. 'It's always bitter or sweet ... I'll explain as we go along.'

They ate sitting in a line, pa.s.sing curious things from one to the other.

'It's rather like Waiting for G.o.dot,' said Lucy.

'Except this time,' announced Mr Lachaise, 'he might come after all, just when he's not expected.'

2.