Gospel (61 page)

‘And what exactly does this suc·ci·nyl·cho·line do?'

‘Succinylcholine is a very short-acting muscle relaxant. It blocks the neuromuscular junction by combining with the cholinergic receptors and depolarising them.'

‘In other words . . .' said David, urging Gus to play it for the laymen.

‘In other words, onset of paralysis is rapid, less than two minutes, and lasts for about four to six minutes after administration.'

‘So within one to two minutes of injection, this drug paralyses the victim, makes him unable to move. Like a paraplegic,' David confirmed.

‘Yes.'

David paused there, allowing this new, shocking evidence to be absorbed by the horrified masses before him. The level of noise in the gallery rose to a new high, forcing Donovan to call for order so that David might continue, and Svenson shed new light on the torture their beloved Vice President had endured.

‘Is the victim unconscious after the administration of this drug, Dr Svenson?'

‘No. Very much alert, awake. Can't speak, can't move, can't breathe but
still aware. The drug is used to immobilise patients so that doctors might undertake procedures which require stillness such as intubation. Of course, normally this anaesthetic is used under controlled hospital conditions with alternative breathing apparatus on hand.'

‘So you are saying someone injected the Vice President with succinylcholine, to render him immobile – so that he could not fight back – and then administered the second drug.'

‘Yes, and somehow helped him to breathe, otherwise the second drug, the OxyContin, would not have been noted as the official cause of death. The Vice President must have been breathing – his blood circulating, for the OxyContin to be absorbed and take effect.'

‘So allow me to clarify, Doctor,' said David, now turning to face his audience beyond. ‘Someone injected Tom Bradshaw with a killer anaesthetic, rendered him paralysed, and then kept him alive, perhaps by administering mouth to mouth or some other form of resuscitation, long enough to kill him “officially” with the recorded drug of choice,' said David, now shaking his head.

‘Yes.'

David looked up at the crowd again. ‘And all the time, he was awake, watching his
own murder
occur before his very eyes.'

‘Yes. Sadly, I believe this to be so.'

It was as if the air had been sucked from the room in one almighty gasp, followed by what could only be described as a series of mournful moans as the people realised the true horror of how their hero had died.

And then there was a pause, a few seconds of nothingness until . . .

‘Objection.' Adams was up. He could no doubt see the shock in the Judge's eyes and was determined to put an end to this line of questioning. ‘Your Honour, this is outrageous. Why is it we have not heard of this drug before?'

‘Most likely because he didn't ask, Your Honour,' said David before the Judge could reply. ‘It is common practice for both defence and prosecution counsel to have access to additional tests by the medical examiner's office. These tests were carried out late last week, at our request.'

‘Then the defence has failed to meet its responsibility in regards to disclosure of discovery,' countered Adams.

‘I'm sorry, Your Honour, but as of this morning we have not received a
formal request for disclosure from the Trial Attorney's Office. As Mr Adams knows, legally we require such a request to proceed with the release of all relevant items of discovery.'

David could not help himself. He turned to look Adams directly in the eye. The prosecution had made such a ‘song and dance' about the defence's failure to request discovery – thus giving them a legal loophole to release the ‘letter' to the press, but in all their brazen over-confidence, had failed as yet to file a reciprocal request to the defence.

David knew the prosecution's oversight was not so much a case of mismanagement – more a blatant arrogance on their part as they no doubt believed the defence had nothing of value to contribute.

Adams was ashen-faced and David was sure one of his ambitious assistant attorneys was about to lose his or her job. He slid back into his chair like a bully caught with his pants down, until something else obviously occurred to him – a much needed lifeline, a way out.

‘Your Honour,' Adams was up again, a fresh bout of enthusiasm in his voice. ‘Forgive me, but I do not see where this is going. Even if the suck-sino-choline . . . whatever it is, was injected first, it does not eliminate the Professor as the number one suspect in this case. In fact, it does the opposite. It reinforces his guilt. The Professor is a physician with access to a number of drugs – and I am sure this includes the aforementioned anaesthetic. This does not prove a thing,' he went on. ‘Professor Montgomery was in the Vice President's suite for over four minutes, more than enough time for him to administer both narcotics and . . .'

‘Good point,' interrupted David, turning towards the Judge. ‘Your Honour, I have no problem with Dr Svenson answering Mr Adams' query. In fact, allow me to rephrase his question. Dr Svenson,' he said, turning towards his witness once again. ‘Could Professor Montgomery have administered both drugs, the succinylcholine to paralyse the Vice President and the OxyContin to kill him?'

‘Of course,' said Svenson. ‘But he did not.'

And that was it. The room erupted in an explosion of confusion, forcing Donovan to raise his gavel, slamming it down on his desk as he called for order.

‘Dr Svenson,' yelled Donovan over the hubbub. ‘Please explain your answer to the court.'

‘Yes, Your Honour,' said Svenson. ‘It is impossible that Professor Montgomery administered both drugs due to metabolic rate of OxyContin. After injection, even such a high dose of OxyContin take at least ten minutes to result in respiratory depression and cardiac arrest.'

‘So,' said David. ‘Even if the Professor injected the first drug as soon as he entered the Vice President's suite at 8.17pm, and then waited the two minutes for the succinylcholine to take effect by 8.19, and then rushed to place the Vice President – a larger man than himself – neatly on the bed at 8.20, and then folded his sleeve and administered the OxyContin and arranged the drug paraphernalia next to his bed so that his death appeared like an overdose, 8.21
tops
, and then walked calmly out the door, the Vice President would have been alive for at least ten minutes after the OxyContin was injected – say until 8.31pm.'

‘Roughly, yes.'

‘But Mrs Bradshaw found her husband dead exactly one minute after the Professor had left the room – at 8.22pm. And she raised the alarm a minute later at 8.23, after which numerous people – Secret Service, FBI and so on – attended to the Vice President, none of whom could detect a heart beat.'

‘So I am told. Yes,' said Svenson.

‘Yes,' said David. ‘So, the drugs – both of them – must have been administered earlier, long before the Professor even arrived at Tom Bradshaw's Presidential suite door.'

‘Medically speaking, yes.'

David walked towards the witness quickly, angling himself so that he faced both Svenson and Judge Donovan before clarifying, ‘So Dr Svenson, just so we are clear, Professor Montgomery could not have killed the Vice President, simply because he did not have the time to do so.'

‘No time. That's right,' said Gus. ‘It is a medical impossibility.'

‘H
e was different,' she said, her green eyes wide, her shiny black hair resting on her slim but broad shoulders. ‘He was warm, genuine. We have a lot of famous people stay at the Fairmont but I have never met anyone like Vice President Bradshaw. The Vice President was . . . unaffected, real.'

Gus Svenson's showstopper testimony over, David immediately followed up after lunch with Maeve Barlow.

‘So tell us, Maeve, what happened after your short chat with the Vice President?'

‘Well I realised he was very busy. In fact Mrs Bradshaw . . .'

Maeve stopped there and David sensed his witness was a little embarrassed about having overheard what was obviously meant to be a private conversation between Bradshaw and his wife. But David knew this seemingly inconsequential piece of evidence would eventually turn out to be significant – and so he pushed on.

‘It's okay, Maeve, go ahead.'

‘Well, I overheard Mrs Bradshaw asking the Vice President to try to get a few moments rest before the function. She was obviously concerned about his welfare after what must have been a very tiring day. She asked him to keep his next meeting short and . . .'

‘The meeting with CIA Director Richard Ryan,' interrupted David.

‘Yes, I assumed so, as she mentioned the name “Dick”, and then she suggested she ask his physician to check in on him – Professor Stuart Montgomery.'

Maeve looked downwards as if uncomfortable at being privy to events which everyone suspected had led to Tom Bradshaw's death. But she soon collected herself and looked up again, resettling herself in her seat and ready to answer the next question.

‘And what was the Vice President's response to Mrs Bradshaw's mention of Professor Montgomery?' asked David.

‘The Vice President said something like “no, I'll be fine,” before commenting that he and the Professor had had a falling out. But I got the sense it was not a serious argument, just one of those silly altercations that resolve themselves in time.'

‘Objection,' yelled Adams. ‘Speculation.'

‘He's right, Mr Cavanaugh,' said Donovan.

‘Judge, if Mr Adams would allow the witness to continue, I think she can clarify as to how she came to the conclusion that the Vice President's and my client's falling out was a mild and recurring part of their friendship.'

‘All right, Mr Cavanaugh, your witness may continue. But Ms Barlow,' Donovan said, turning to Maeve, ‘please refrain from telling us what you may have sensed and restrict your responses to what you heard or saw.'

‘Yes, sir,' said Maeve, her cheeks flush. ‘I'm sorry, Your Honour.'

‘It's okay, Maeve,' said David. ‘Just tell us why you thought their argument was of a light-hearted nature.'

‘Well, I remember the Vice President saying they'd “get over it”. That he enjoyed sparring with the Professor. He did not look troubled by it, in fact he was smiling as he mentioned it like it was some sort of “game”.'

‘Right,' said David, now happy to move on. ‘And then you went about your duties and . . .'

‘Yes, I finished the turndown and left the suite just as Director Ryan arrived. The Vice President called him in and then he . . .'

‘Go ahead, Maeve.'

‘Well, it sounds a little odd out of context, but he collected the Bible
from his bedroom and handed it to the Director commenting that it was “for inspiration” and that he had “made some notes”.'

Check
, thought David, before changing tack again.

‘And that was the last time you saw the Vice President?'

‘Unfortunately yes,' she said with genuine grief.

‘Thank you, Maeve,' said David, making his way back to his desk, prompting an obviously eager Adams to begin rising to his feet.

But David had not finished, in fact, he was simply retreating so that he could retrieve his own ‘piece of magic' from the defence desk. An exhibit that looked identical to the one Adams had showcased before – except, in essence, very, very different.

David said nothing, simply retraced the Trial Attorney's steps towards the TV and video player. Inserting the tape in the slot and fast forwarding to a point just before missing four minutes. Still silent, he started with the vision of the now-familiar corridor, keeping one eye on the television and the other on the Judge who, he now noticed, was starting to furrow his freckled brow.

The Judge went to say something, but closed his mouth again. Adams stood to object, but Donovan motioned him down and the entire courtroom sat in wonder at the reality that was 8.03 – when FBI Assistant Director Ramirez re-entered Tom Bradshaw's suite – to 8.07 when he left the room again only to meet with a determined looking Maxine Bryant in the corridor.

At the end of the sequence David paused, capturing exactly what his co-counsel had seen barely nights before – a housemaid's shoe heel and the corner of her skirt.

‘Maeve,' said David, pointing at the two items of clothing. ‘Is this you?'

‘Yes,' said Maeve. ‘I had just finished another turndown in the room across the corridor when I saw Assistant Director Ramirez and US Chief of Staff Bryant having a conversation outside the Vice President's room.'

‘And what was the nature of this conversation Maeve?' asked David at last.

‘The Assistant Director told Mrs Bryant that the Vice President was not accepting visitors. That he was resting and could not be disturbed under any circumstances.'

‘And Mrs Bryant's response?'

‘I got the feeling she may have felt a little – well, miffed. Agent Ramirez was blocking the door and well, as you can see from the tape, she went back to her room.'

‘At 8.07?'

‘Yes.'

‘Ten minutes before the Professor entered?' David asked, gesturing at his client.

‘Yes.'

‘Thank you, Maeve. No further questions, Your Honour.'

Ramirez had had enough. First the succinylcholine – the so-called undetectable narcotic that had been detected after all – and then the
original
tape. He needed Adams to discredit the young Barlow's recall, question Svenson's medical data and throw the spotlight back on to the physical information they had compiled and the man they had charged in the first place.

Everything had gone so well to date. Framing Montgomery had been even easier than expected – his recent spat with Bradshaw, the monitoring of his patients until he prescribed a fatal painkiller, his presence requested and honoured on the night in question, and his kind contribution in the form of the plastic syringe cover he unwittingly left behind. He even helped their cause by ‘taking flight' after finding the President dead in his hotel room bed. They had expected him to raise the alarm immediately, enabling them to accuse him of feigning surprise to cover his ‘murderous tracks', but his failure to report his finding made him look even guiltier than he was supposed to be. Like a cowardly killer on the run – the perfect stooge in the perfectly constructed crime.