Daniel watched Michael exit one of the six elevators that opened onto the Old Bailey’s ground floor. Nathan Campbell had left the building twenty minutes earlier. Daniel had been waiting for the tall Irishman since then.
Michael’s destruction of Richard Dove had forced the prosecution to abandon its case. With Dove behind all of Campbell’s actions and with his motives exposed, it had become hopeless. What then followed had been inevitable. A fixed process. The judge had directed the jury to find Nathan Campbell ‘Not Guilty’.
Daniel was sure they would have done the same even without the direction. Still, that extra guarantee was always welcome. The Devlin/Lawrence partnership had won. It was becoming a habit.
Michael glanced towards the top of the building’s main staircase as he stepped out of the lift. The spot where Daniel always liked to wait.
He had stayed upstairs while Daniel saw Campbell off the premises. Only once the client was gone did the barrister reappear.
It was a practised routine. Michael had always lacked the patience for the ‘social work’ side of their job. Struggled with the handholding. Not that it mattered; working with Daniel meant there was always a compassionate colleague to pick up the slack.
‘It takes you an hour to look respectable these days, does it?’
Daniel glanced at his watch. Tried to fake annoyance. He was no actor.
Daniel might have been joking, but he could not have chosen a better description. Everything about Michael screamed ‘respectable’. His impeccable black pinstriped suit and starched white shirt complimented his six-foot-one athletic physique. He was every inch the TV idea of a barrister, which could not be more ironic. Not just because so few barristers actually resembled the clean-cut actors who played them, but because so few came from a background as unprivileged as the boy from the wrong side of Belfast.
‘If I didn’t know better I’d think you didn’t want to speak to Nathan,’ Daniel continued. ‘He says “thanks”, by the way.’
‘So he should!’ Michael laughed. ‘C’mon, let’s get going.’
The Old Bailey’s ground floor was not at street level; an oddity caused by the building’s expansion over the course of a century. So there was a final flight of stairs for Michael and Daniel to walk down before they could exit the building.
At the top of this staircase – embedded in the wall, far above head-height – was a lone piece of shrapnel. A morbid reminder of an IRA bomb that had exploded in the street outside in 1973. Daniel watched as it drew Michael’s eye. It always did. Michael had been raised in the more sectarian part of Ulster, where acts of terrorism could be tragically commonplace. He had long ago walked away from that past, but Daniel knew that he had never forgotten it. Now, every time Michael set foot on the staircase his eyes darted to the shrapnel. And every time it made him think of how far he had come. Of what he had left behind. A reminder that always seemed to stir mixed emotions.
No words were spoken as they left the building. They passed the ever-present paparazzi. Turned left and walked the short distance to Ludgate Hill.
It was one of London’s most iconic locations. Left out of Old Bailey – the road that gave its name to the court – was St Paul’s Cathedral. Old London’s dominating landmark. To the right were Ludgate Circus and Fleet Street. The historic home to Britain’s printed press. The journalists had moved on decades ago. The lawyers, who had been there even longer, remained.
Daniel wore his shirt unbuttoned at the collar. Michael – who wore a tunic shirt in court, in line with tradition – had no collar at all. Both carried their jackets slung over the shoulder. It was a relief to be free from the formal dress of Britain’s courts. Especially for Michael, Daniel thought. The eighteenth-century outfit still worn by criminal barristers did its job. It made the advocates stand out. Gave them a status that put witnesses at a disadvantage. But that did not make it any more comfortable, particularly in courtrooms built before the invention of air conditioning. It was no doubt a welcome respite that Michael could now enjoy the rare October sunshine in fewer layers.
They made their way west, down Ludgate Hill. Neither spoke. The comfortable silence that can only exist between the closest of friends. Minutes passed as they pushed their way through the crowds. These pavements were always busy. Bustling. Like everyone familiar with the city centre, both Michael and Daniel were accustomed to being jostled as they walked.
‘That was a hell of a closing question.’
Daniel’s face broke into a grin as he finally spoke. They were already halfway along Fleet Street.
‘What’s that old rule about only asking one question at a time, Mike? God knows how Kennedy let you get away with it.’
‘Don’t see why you’re surprised.’ Michael’s smile was just as wide. ‘I’ve asked worse questions than that without getting into trouble.’
‘Bullshit! If you had I’d have heard about it. Especially with your big mouth! You’ll be calling everyone you know to brag about this one tonight!’
‘You’re the only one who still lets me boast, Danny. The others just hang up!’
‘Then you’re calling the wrong people. I’m sure my dad will want to hear all about it.’
Daniel did not mean to silence Michael. But he’d managed it anyway.
Daniel’s father was Hugh Lawrence QC, one of England’s most eminent barristers. Hugh had been disappointed to see his son become a solicitor instead of following in his father’s footsteps. And Michael had been his consolation for that decision. Hugh Lawrence had taken the interest he would have had in Daniel’s career and invested it into that of his son’s friend. Daniel had long accepted this. But it was not something they ever discussed.
Whatever his pedigree, Daniel had always felt unsuited to a career at the Bar. It was a doubt that had remained unspoken. Until it was confirmed by a young man with every attribute he lacked. Michael Devlin.
They had met as students. Luck had placed them in the same university group, but their backgrounds had been poles apart. Daniel had always been wealthy. A privileged rich kid with the best education money could buy. Michael had come from a very different world. He had fought tooth and nail to break free from his upbringing. To build a better life away from a family he never discussed.
They had been equals from the start. The outstanding students in a law class that was quickly a two-horse race. But their approach to their subject differed drastically.
Crucially, Michael was capable of the one thing that Daniel was not. He could argue in favour of anything. Michael’s feelings on a subject never affected his ability as an advocate; he could deliver winning performance after winning performance, regardless of the moral rights and wrongs. In this way Daniel could not compete. Daniel could fight a cause as well as anyone. But only when it was a cause in which he believed.
Which was going to be a problem. A barrister must accept any case offered, regardless of personal feelings. It is an ancient rule that guarantees a person will have someone to defend him, no matter how terrible the allegation. But, to be effective, the rule demanded Michael’s ability to argue any case. Daniel lacked that talent and he knew it.
It led to the choice that had disappointed Daniel’s father. Daniel’s ability was bound to his morality, meaning he was more suited to the life of a solicitor. It gave him the freedom he needed. Freedom to champion good causes. And freedom to turn away cases that offended his sense of justice.
It was this life that Daniel had chosen fifteen years ago. A decision he had never regretted.
‘Any plans for lunch?’ Michael asked, breaking the short silence that had fallen between them.
‘A fat sandwich and a fast car. It’s Harry’s sports day. I promised I’d be there for his race if his Uncle Mike got us out in time. You want to join us?’
‘I think Uncle Mike’s done enough by getting you there, don’t you? Besides, I’d only be watching him lose if he’s anything like his old man!’
‘Bollocks!’ Daniel laughed in mock outrage. ‘I never had any trouble outrunning you!’
‘Yeah, but that was then. I’ll give you a head start any time these days, you chubby bastard!’
Daniel laughed aloud, conceding defeat. Michael was right. They had been equally athletic in their university days. But Daniel hadn’t kept himself in the same shape as his friend. That was natural. Daniel returned home each night to the comfort of his wife, his son and – more often than not – a big family meal. Michael did not.
Daniel sometimes envied that his friend’s life was entirely his own, but he ultimately knew which of them had the better deal. Even if it had caused some softening of his body.
‘So what’s more important than watching your godson on the road to Olympic glory?’
‘Just the usual. I’ve got a murder trial starting in two weeks. I thought I’d pick up the papers, head home and get some work done.’
‘Work? After today? You’re joking, right?’
Daniel could not keep the tone of incredulity out of his voice.
‘Mike, you need to get out more, get a work-life balance. Come to sports day. Come and cheer on Harry. You can check out his English teacher while you’re there.’
‘I’m out enough,’ Michael said. He seemed a little offended. ‘And don’t go thinking that you need to set me up with women. I’m not past it yet.’
Daniel laughed in reply, but behind the amusement was concern. Michael’s preoccupation with his career was becoming a worry, especially with the impact it was having on his personal life. Or at least what had been a personal life.
It was all a far cry from their university days. Or even their twenties.
Back then they had made the most of their freedom. Both of them young, fit and successful. Michael was the more handsome of the two, Daniel knew that. And this had become more true as they had entered their late thirties. Michael was tall and strong, with classic good looks, thick blond hair and piercing blue eyes.
Daniel was four or five inches shorter. Dusky-haired and, at least in his youth, a much more wiry build. Though not handsome in the traditional sense, the difference between them had done nothing to dent Daniel’s confidence. He was quick-witted and charismatic, a personality that more than made up for anything average about his features.
Their youthful success at charming a stream of beautiful women had been enviable. But those days were long gone. Both had settled down. Daniel to a happy marriage, a contented family life and – he had to admit – to early middle-age spread. Michael had just as committed a relationship, but his was with his career.
Daniel worried that this obsession would prevent his friend from ever finding the right girl. But now did not seem the time to voice those concerns.
It was not long before they had reached the bottom of Chancery Lane, the point at which they would go their separate ways.
‘Wish Harry luck for me.’
Michael stopped walking as he spoke.
‘Get him to give me a call at home if he wins. And you can get me that teacher’s number too.’
Daniel laughed a final time. He was happy to see that his friend’s raw nerve did not run too deep. Already walking along Chancery Lane, his own farewell was shouted over his shoulder.
‘I will do. And maybe Claire can invite her to dinner at our place! Don’t work too hard.’