tc.patriotgames-第23部分

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　　　　Ryan　had　never　been　in　a　courthouse　before。　He　was　amused　by　the　fact　that　he'd　never　even　had　a　speeding　ticket；　his　life　had　been　so　dull　until　now。　The　marble　floor　　nearly　everything　in　sight　was　marble　　gave　the　hall　the　aspect　of　a　cathedral；　and　the　walls　were　decorated　with　aphorisms　such　as　Cicero's　THE　WELFARE　OF　THE　PEOPLE　IS　THE　HIGHEST　LAW；　a　phrase　he　found　curiously　　or　at　least　potentially　　expedient　in　what　was　certainly　designed　as　a　temple　to　the　idea　of　law。　He　wondered　if　the　members　of　the　ULA　felt　the　same　way；　and　justified　their　activities　in　accordance　with　their　view　of　the　welfare　of　the　people。　Who　doesn't？　Jack　asked　himself。　What　tyrant　ever　failed　to　justify　his　crimes？　Around　him　were　a　half…dozen　other　witnesses。　Jack　didn't　talk　with　them。　His　instructions　were　quite　specific：　even　the　appearance　of　conversation　might　give　cause　to　the　defense　attorneys　to　speculate　that　witnesses　had　coached　one　another。　The　prosecution　team　had　bent　every　effort　to　make　their　case　a　textbook　example　of　correct　legal　procedure。
　　　　The　case　was　being　handled　on　a　contradictory　basis。　The　ambush　had　taken　place　barely　four　weeks　ago；　and　the　trial　was　already　under　way　　an　unusually　speedy　process　even　by　British　standards。　Security　was　airtight。　Admittance　to　the　public　gallery　（visitors　entered　from　another　part　of　the　building）　was　being　strictly　controlled。　But　at　the　same　time；　the　trial　was　being　handled　strictly　as　a　criminal　matter。　The　name　〃Ulster　Liberation　Army〃　had　not　been　mentioned。　The　prosecutor　had　not　once　used　the　word　terrorist。　The　police　ignored　　publicly　　the　political　aspects　of　the　case。　Two　men　were　dead；　and　this　was　a　trial　for　first…degree　murder　　period。　Even　the　press　was　playing　along；　oh　the　theory　that　there　was　no　more　contemptuous　way　to　treat　the　defendant　than　to　call　him　a　simple　criminal；　and　not　sanctify　him　as　a　creature　of　politics。　Jack　wondered　about　additional　political　or　intelligence…related　motives　in　this　treatment；　but　no　one　was　talking　along　those　lines；　and　the　defense　attorney　certainly　couldn't　defend　his　client　better　by　calling　him　a　member　of　a　terrorist　group。　In　the　media；　and　in　the　courtroom；　this　was　a　case　of　murder。
　　　　The　truth　was　different；　of　course；　and　everyone　knew　it。　But　Ryan　knew　enough　about　the　law　to　remember　that　lawyers　rarely　concern　themselves　with　truth。　The　rules　were　far　more　important。　There　would　therefore　be　no　official　speculation　on　the　goal　of　the　criminals；　and　no　involvement　of　the　Royal　Family；　aside　from　depositions　that　they　could　not　identify　the　living　conspirator　and　hence　had　no　worthwhile　evidence　to　offer。
　　　　It　didn't　matter。　From　the　press　coverage　of　the　evidence　it　seemed　clear　enough　that　the　trial　was　as　airtight　as　was　possible　without　a　videotape　of　the　entire　event。　Similarly；　Cathy　was　not　to　testify。　In　addition　to　forensic　experts　who　had　testified　the　day　before；　the　Crown　had　eight　eyewitnesses。　Ryan　was　number　two。　The　trial　was　expected　to　last　a　maximum　of　four　days。　As　Owens　had　told　him　in　the　hospital；　there　would　be　no　mucking　about　with　this　lad。
　　　　〃Doctor　Ryan？　Would　you　please　follow　me；　sir？〃　The　VIP　treatment　continued　here　also。　A　bailiff　in　short　sleeves　and　tie　came　over　and　led　him　into　the　courtroom　through　a　side　door。　A　police　officer　took　his　puter　after　opening　the　door。　〃Show…time；〃　Ryan　whispered　to　himself。
　　　　Old　Bailey　#2　was　an　extravagance　of　19th…century　woodworking。　The　large　room　was　paneled　with　so　much　solid　oak　that　the　construction　of　a　similar　room　in　America　would　draw　a　protest　from　the　Sierra　Club　for　all　the　trees　it　required。　The　actual　floorspace　was　surprisingly　small；　scarcely　as　much　as　the　dining　room　in　his　house；　a　similarity　made　all　the　more　striking　by　a　table　set　in　the　center。　The　judge's　bench　was　a　wooden　fortress　adjacent　to　the　witness　box。　The　Honorable　Mr。　Justice　Wheeler　sat　in　one　of　the　five　high…backed　chairs　behind　it。　He　was　resplendent　in　a　scarlet　robe　and　sash；　and　a　horsehair　wig；　called　a　〃peruke；〃　Ryan　had　been　told；　that　fell　to　his　narrow　shoulders　and　clearly　looked　like　something　from　another　age。　The　jury　box　was　to　Ryan's　left。　Eight　women　and　four　men　sat　in　two　even　rows；　each　face　full　of　anticipation。　Above　them　was　the　public　gallery；　perched　like　a　choir　loft　and　angled　so　that　Ryan　could　barely　see　the　people　there。　The　barristers　were　to　Ryan's　right；　across　the　small　floorspace；　wearing　black　robes；　18th…century　cravats；　and　their　own；　smaller　wigs。　The　net　effect　of　all　this　was　a　vaguely　religious　atmosphere　that　made　Ryan　slightly　uneasy　as　he　was　sworn　in。
　　　　William　Richards；　QC；　the　prosecutor；　was　a　man　of　Ryan's　age；　similar　in　height　and　build。　He　began　with　the　usual　questions：　your　name；　place　of　residence；　profession；　when　did　you　arrive；　for　what　purpose？　Richards　predictably　had　a　flair　for　the　dramatic；　and　by　the　time　the　questions　carried　them　to　the　shooting；　Ryan　could　sense　the　excitement　and　anticipation　of　the　audience　without　even　looking　at　their　faces。
　　　　〃Doctor　Ryan；　could　you　describe　in　your　own　words　what　happened　next？〃
　　　　Jack　did　exactly　this　for　ten　minutes；　without　interruption；　all　the　while　half…facing　the　jury。　He　tried　to　avoid　looking　into　their　faces。　It　seemed　an　odd　place　to　get　stage　fright；　but　this　was　precisely　what　Ryan　felt。　He　focused　his　eyes　on　the　oak　panels　just　over　their　heads　as　he　ran　through　the　events。　It　was　almost　like　living　it　again；　and　Ryan　could　feel　his　heart　beating　faster　as　he　concluded。
　　　　〃And；　Doctor　Ryan；　can　you　identify　for　us　the　man　whom　you　first　attacked？〃　Richards　finally　asked。
　　　　〃Yes；　sir。〃　Ryan　pointed。　〃The　defendant；　right　there；　sir。〃　
　　　　It　was　Ryan's　first　really　good　look　at　him。　His　name　was　Sean　Miller　　not　a　particularly　Irish　name　to　Ryan's　way　of　thinking。　He　was　twenty…six；　short；　slender；　dressed　neatly　in　a　suit　and　tie。　He　was　smiling　up　at　someone　in　the　visitors'　gallery；　a　family　member　perhaps；　when　Ryan　pointed。　Then　his　gaze　shifted；　and　Ryan　examined　the　man　for　the　first　time。　What　sort　of　person；　Jack　had　wondered　for　weeks；　could　plan　and　execute　such　a　crime？　What　was　missing　in　him；　or　what　terrible　thing　lived　in　him　that　most　civilized　people　had　the　good　fortune　to　lack？　The　thin；　acne…scarred　face　was　entirely　normal。　Miller　could　have　been　an　executive　trainee　at　Merrill　Lynch　or　any　other　business　concern。　Jack's　father　had　spent　his　life　dealing　with　criminals；　but　their　existence　was　a　puzzlement　to　Ryan。　Why　are　you　different？　What　makes　you　what　you　are？　Ryan　wanted　to　ask；　knowing　that　even　if　there　were　an　answer　the　question　would　remain。　Then　he　looked　at　Miller's　eyes。　He　looked　for　。　。　。　something；　a　spark　of　life；　humanity　　something　that　would　say　that　this　was　indeed　another　human　being。　It　could　only　have　been　two　seconds；　but　for　Ryan　the　moment　seemed　to　linger　into　minutes　as　he　looked　into　those　pale　gray　eyes　and　saw　。　。　。　
　　　　Nothing。　Nothing　at　all。　And　Jack　began　to　understand　a　little。
　　　　〃The　record　will　show；〃　the　Lord　Justice　intoned　to　the　court　reporter；　〃that　the　witness　identified　the　defendant；　Sean　Miller。〃　
　　　　〃Thank　you；　My　Lord；〃　Richards　concluded。
　　　　Ryan　took　the　opportunity　to　blow　his　nose。　He'd　acquired　a　head　cold　over　the　preceding　weekend。
　　　　〃Are　you　quite　fortable；　Doctor　Ryan？〃　the　judge　inquired。　Jack　realized　that　he'd　been　leaning　on　the　wooden　rail。
　　　　〃Excuse　me；　your　hon　　My　Lord。　This　cast　is　a　little　tiring。〃　Every　time　Sally　came　past　her　father；　she　had　taken　to　singing；　〃I'm　a　little　teapot　。　。　。〃　
　　　　〃Bailiff；　a　stool　for　the　witness；〃　the　judge　ordered。
　　　　The　defense　team　was　seated　adjacent　to　the　prosecution；　perhaps　fifteen　feet　farther　away　in　the　same　row　of　seats；　green　leather　cushions　on　the　oak　benches。　In　a　moment　the　bailiff　arrived　with　a　simple　wooden　stool；　and　Ryan　settled　down　on　it。　What　he　really　needed　was　a　hook　for　his　left　arm；　but　he　was　gradually　being　used　to　the　weight。　It　was　the　constant　itching　that　drove　him　crazy；　though　there　was　nothing　anybody　could　do　about　that。
　　　　The　defense　attorney　　barrister　　rose　with　elegant　deliberation。　His　name　was　Charles　Atkinson；　more　monly　known　as　Red　Charlie；　a　lawyer　with　a　penchant　for　radical　causes　and　radical　crimes。　He　was　supposed　to　be　an　embarrassment　to　the　Labour　Party；　which　he　had　served　until　recently　in　Parliament。　Red　Charlie　was　about　thirty　pounds　overweight；　his　wig　askew　atop　a　florid；　strangely　thin　face　for　the　ample　frame。　Defending　terrorists　must　have　paid　well　enough；　Ryan　thought。　There's　a　question　Owens　must　be　looking　into；　Ryan　told　himself。　Where　is　your　money　ing　from；　Mr。　Atkinson？
　　　　〃May　it　please　Your　Lordship；〃　he　said　formally　to　the　bench。　He　walked　slowly　towards　Ryan；　a　sheaf　of　notes　in　his　hand。
　　　　〃Doctor　Ryan　　or　should　I　say　Sir　John？〃
　　　　Jack　waved　his　hand。　〃Whatever　is　convenient　to　you；　sir；〃　he　answered　indifferently。　They　had　warned　him　about　Atkinson。　A　very　clever　bastard；　they'd　said。　Ryan　had　known　quite　a　few　clever　bastards　in　the　brokerage　business。
　　　　〃You　were；　I　believe；　a　leftenant　in　the　United　States　Marine　Corps？〃　
　　　　〃Yes；　sir；　that　is　correct。〃
　　　　Atkinson　looked　down　at　his　notes；　then　over　at　the　jury。　〃Bloodthirsty　mob；　the　U。S。　Marines；〃　he　muttered。
　　　　〃Excuse　me；　sir？　Bloodthirsty？〃　Ryan　asked。　〃No；　sir。　Most　of　the　Marines　I　know　are　beer　drinkers。〃
　　　　Atkinson　spun　back　at　Ryan　as　a　ripple　of　laughter　came　down　from　the　gallery。　He　gave　Jack　a　thin；　dangerous　smile。　They'd　warned　Jack　most　of　all　to　beware　his　word　games　and　tactical　skill　in　the　courtroom。　To　hell　with　it；　Ryan　told　himself。　He　smiled　back　at　the　barrister。　Go　for　it；　asshole　。　。　。
　　　　〃Forgive　me；　Sir　John。　A　figure　of　speech。　I　meant　to　say　that　the　U。S。　Marines　have　a　reputation　for　aggressiveness。　Surely　this　is　true？〃
　　　　〃Marines　are　light　infantry　troops　who　specialize　in　amphibious　assault。　We　were　pretty　well　trained；　but　when　you　get　down　to　it　we　weren't　all　that　different　from　any　other　kind　of　soldier。　It's　just　a　matter　of　specialization　in　a　particularly　tough　field；〃　Ryan　answered；　hoping　to　throw　him　a　little　off　balance。　Marines　were　supposed　to　be　arrogant；