Edward said the name quietly, ‘Julia.’
‘Right... and the hit and run, the “accident” that killed Richard Van der Burge.’
Edward smiled, shaking his head, and then laughed. ‘You son of a bitch, you son of a bitch, I’ll take you on, Alex, any day, any time.’
Alex stuffed his hands in his pockets and kicked the end of his brother’s bed. ‘No, you won’t, because when it comes down to it I don’t think I could see it through. Oh, I’d like to think I could, but... you’ve always beaten me. In a way I’m just like that poor bastard Skye Duval. You pull his strings, just as you pull mine — we’re your puppets.’
Edward picked up his heavy overcoat and walked to the door. He paused a moment, his back to Alex, then said, ‘You know, you dumb bastard, you’re wrong. From the moment I looked into your cradle — I was just tall enough to see over the edge — Ma said, “Come and see him, Edward, come and see Alex”; and there you were, smiling up at me with those big blue eyes. There was no jealousy, no envy, because I wanted to protect you, look out for you. You had me by the balls, my old son, even then. We’re brothers, Alex, we got each other so tight by the nuts we’re not much cop without each other. I love you, Alex, and I’ll get our boy off, and maybe you’ll be free of me for good. Everything I’ve got is yours. I guess it always was... Now get some rest, I’ll be back.’
He walked out without another word, without waiting for a reply, without turning round.
Outside, a janitor watched the big, overweight man leaning against a dirty brick wall. He was punching the wall with his fists, hitting it time and time again until his knuckles bled. The janitor did not dare approach him — the man was too big, too crazy... He clanked his bucket and mop in his haste to get out of sight. He didn’t see the massive frame hunch up, didn’t see Edward press his face against the dirty brick wall, nor did he hear the strange, strangled moan...
Edward did not return for two weeks, during which time Alex spent every possible moment with Evelyn. Somehow the relief of telling his brother everything had made it easier to cope with the prison.
The lawyers began to prepare their case. Through Edward, they had secured a total press blackout on the proceedings. The trial was to be held at the main court in Paris, Les Assises.
Evelyn’s time in prison proved to be a period of growth for him. In some ways Edward had been right, solitary confinement gave him peace to review his life and come to terms with it. He realized what he had wasted, what he had abused, and he was ashamed. He discovered in Alex a loving tenderness that he had never hoped to find. The visits drew them closer together, and they talked about everything that had harmed their relationship and kept them apart.
Alex brought Evelyn many books to fill the time in his cell, and he read avidly. He was a model prisoner and took notice when Alex told him that at any cost he must keep himself segregated. Any trouble he got into would go against him. Alex was able to make him understand what confinement does to a man, the homosexual practices of which he could become the victim. He found his son’s sense of humour touching when he said he had come across enough of that in school to be able to cope with it. Alex even worked out a fitness programme for him, so that he could keep his body strong. He showed Evelyn a couple of exercises, getting down on the visiting room floor to demonstrate. Whereas his visits used to cause him such mental anguish, now it was the partings that became more and more difficult. Their time was so precious, precious because looming over them both was the forthcoming trial. Just as freedom seemed so sweet, the possibility of not being granted it played on Evelyn’s mind.
Edward started with the men and women arrested at the farmhouse with Evelyn. He had already paid handsomely for having his messages carried into the jail via the lawyers, offering vast sums of money, money their families would benefit from, if not themselves. One by one they altered their statements, claiming that Evelyn was just a rich young boy they had manipulated. Kurt Spanier was the most difficult to persuade, as he stood to be charged with kidnapping and holding Evelyn against his will. But money can bend minds, and Spanier negotiated for a deal.
Alex listened as Edward outlined the second part of his compaign. He began to work on the press, arranging interviews, and bought witnesses prepared to swear on oath that Evelyn Barkley was held against his will at the farmhouse. Edward even had sworn affidavits from the freres at St Martin’s. Alex could only guess at the cost of what his brother was doing, he knew it would have to be astronomical. But he obeyed his instructions and queried nothing. The days sped by, the trial drawing closing and closer.
‘I’m going to have to see him, Alex, he’s got to give a performance, and he’s going to need me to tell him exactly what to say... I want no one else there, no lawyers, not even you, and I give you my word I’ll be there for exactly what I’ve told you, nothing more. Can you arrange it? Within the next two days?’
Alex agreed, and after discussion with the prison authorities Edward was given permission to visit Evelyn. Alex had a difficult assignment himself — he was to give a full press interview as the distraught father. That would not require any acting ability, but it was vitally important that he give a display of total support for his son’s innocence.
The two brothers shook hands. Edward knew he must make himself very scarce — no one must associate him with Alex or connect the two with any behind-the-scenes manipulation. There had been no violence, no threats — just the temptation of money.
Judge Gregoire Marechal was the last man Edward had arranged to meet, the last link in his chain.
Edward was body-searched, then left waiting for more than two hours. The room smelt of stale body odour and tobacco.
At last he heard footsteps on the tiled floor, and a warder gestured for him to follow. He was shown into a small, stiflingly hot room. A thick glass barrier ran the length of the room, and a telephone hung on the wall. After a further ten minutes the door behind the barrier opened. The guards removed Evelyn’s handcuffs and he sat down, rubbing his wrists.
It was a moment before Evelyn realized who Edward was. Edward started sweating — he licked his lips and reached for the telephone. Evelyn did the same.
‘There’s nothing wrong with Dad, is there? He’s all right?’
Edward hesitated, finding the telephone system confusing. He wanted to be face to face with Evelyn, but he couldn’t be heard unless he spoke directly into the telephone.
‘Your father’s fine. I’m here for the lawyers, I am with the law firm that’s taking your case, do you understand?’
‘I didn’t recognize you at first, you look different.’
‘Yep, we all change... You all right?’
Edward found it unnerving looking into the boy’s face, seeing his dark eyes, his fine features, his beauty. The slender neck emerging from the rough prison shirt, the long tapering fingers as he held the phone. Even his voice sounded distorted through the receiver, almost surreal.
‘Is this how Alex has to speak to you?’
‘Yes. Put your hand against the glass, I’ll show you how we touch.’
Evelyn pressed his palm against the glass partition, and Edward slowly lifted his own hand and pressed it against the glass on his own side. They ‘touched’... after a moment the glass began to warm... Edward became more adept with the telephone, and he was now able to speak to Evelyn and remain looking at him. Evelyn lifted his hand from the glass.