Michael straightened, all efficiency while his co-Partner was losing it. ‘Let’s say they can establish that, Sandra,’ he said, clipped. ‘The terrorist intent, as you call it. What then?’
‘Guess she’d have to investigate plea options.’ Sandra shrugged. ‘Or mental impairment? Or that she was drug-addled and driven into it by some charismatic leader. Something. Depends on her instructions, of course.’
Wow, Cressida thought. Either way, no babies for her, then. She looked down at the photo on the printout. Had she thought about it, this girl who had turned herself in to Muswellbrook LAC at 9pm last night? Did she know that by blowing up a power station she’d said goodbye to any progeny? Cressida looked at Brian. What did that feel like, she thought, knowing your own child would be locked up away from the sunlight for the next two decades, with humans that were for the most part walking scar tissue, all of your care and investment in raising them come to a screaming halt in a prison cell? She didn’t know anything about Brian’s family life, but that had to hurt.
But as unfortunate as all this was, Cressida thought, putting down her notebook and biting into the pastry, it had nothing to do with her. Sure, there’d be lawyers who’d think she was insane to turn down a job as Sandra Crane’s instructing solicitor – on anything – but federal crimes wasn’t a career direction she had any interest in. It certainly didn’t seem like it would help her get partnership. And even if he had stuck up for her at the partnership meeting, she knew she couldn’t afford the poo that was about to stick to Brian anywhere near her: it was hard enough getting ahead in the firm as a female even when you did do everything right. Anyway, she thought, what about the fact that the power stations were owned by a Hannes Swartling client? If she took this on – and if she did, under the professional conduct rules that meant the firm did – it would be a massive professional conflict. Even so-called ‘Chinese walls’, where you kept everything to yourself and didn’t discuss it with any other lawyer in the firm, wouldn’t avoid that. She glanced at them. How could Brian even ask her? And Michael, for that matter. If they thought she’d put her practising certificate at risk over this one he was mistaken.
‘I’d love to help, Brian,’ she said. ‘Really I would. But – I’m surprised Richard didn’t already tell you – I’m lead solicitor on InterConnex, so …’ In other words, I wouldn’t touch this if I was the last lawyer alive.
Brian looked at her in surprise, a small furrow creasing the skin between his eyebrows. He glanced across at Michael.
‘Yes,’ Michael said, turning to her. ‘Richard did mention that. A very exciting project, I agree. I don’t think there’s a way you can manage both, though.’ He sighed. ‘I know the client asked for you, but I don’t think it will be a huge problem to find someone else. At least at first, anyway,’ he added. ‘This whole thing should be done and dusted well before any ink’s ready to be put on any road contracts. I imagine you’ll spend, what’ – he glanced at Sandra – ‘six months on this? And then you can come back in on InterConnex.’
Six months? He had to be kidding. Even if she agreed to risk the conflict, by that time she might as well get a job as a paralegal on it, Cressida thought. All the main work would be done, the relationships cemented, the chain of influence – and therefore prestige and reputation – established. Instead of making a name for herself she’d be a worker bee again, slogging it out for no recognition and bugger-all pay. She was supposed to be spending the coming week travelling to the construction sites, for goodness sake. She’d been intending to ask Esma to book the flights as soon as the power was back. No. It wouldn’t do.
‘It could be over that quickly, yes,’ Sandra confirmed, nodding. ‘Depends on whether the government wants to string it out or not. Or alternatively be seen to get her behind bars as quickly as possible. Them, I should say.’
Of course. There were other suspects. Why the hell wasn’t this person getting the same legal representation as them?
‘I should warn you though,’ Sandra added, ‘other cases like these have taken years to run their course. Three at least.’
Cressida swallowed. That was unthinkable.
‘Well what is happening with the other suspects, by the way?’ she said. ‘On Eraring and the other plant …’ She scanned the newspaper article. ‘Bayswater. Surely they have legal representation?’
‘I have no idea. Brian’s daughter is possibly the only one that can afford me,’ Sandra said, glancing at him. ‘The rest will have Legal Aid, I imagine. Depending on their finances. Of course I wouldn’t act for any of the others anyway. In my experience this sort of thing turns into a professional conflict pretty quickly. The knives tend to come out between suspects before the first mention. Which reminds me. We need to get back to basics.’ She turned to Cressida. ‘The first thing to do is to get instructions, obviously. Find out whether she’s happy for us to act for her – which I assume she will be – and get as much detail as you can about what charges have been laid. Of course don’t ask her too many questions about the incident itself at this point,’ Sandra said. ‘Then you’ll need to get the papers – from the CDPP, if the client doesn’t have them. Either way, the first thing is to find out exactly what they’re levelling at her so far. And find out how she wants to plead, of course, once we know what to – charges and full brief of evidence before she decides, of course. Once they’ve had it transferred up to the District Court, seek orders for one at the first mention. That will take a while – I’m rarely in the Dizzo, but I think it’s eight weeks on strictly indictables? Again, depends what the charges are. But I’m sure you’re familiar with the Practice Notes.’ She added, ‘Anyway, once we’ve got all that, we’ll know where we are.’
‘Here’s my secretary’s number,’ Brian said, scrawling it on the back of the news article with his heavy wood embossed pen and handing it to Cressida. ‘Esma. Worth her weight in gold. Consider her yours for this, Cressida. And whatever else you need.’
An unfamiliar feeling began to stir in Cressida, and she tried to pin it down. Ah, she realised with wonder. That was it. Power. For the last four years, since Leo’s conviction – well, her whole time at Hannes Swartling, actually, but the last four years had been the worst – it had been the other way around. As if, despite all her work and dedication, Hannes Swartling were doing her a favour by keeping her on. Four years of embarrassment, worrying about what they thought of her, proving how different she was from Leo over and over again – how trustworthy, because her father had turned out so much the opposite. Even walking up the stairs to this meeting she had been afraid for her job, she reflected with some bitterness.
By doing this, they would owe her.
But she knew that if she did do it, there would have to be cast-iron Chinese walls, and she was going to be asking Sandra a lot of stupid questions. Terrorism and sabotage would be very different from defending on insider trading. And, she thought, looking across at those inscrutable grey eyes, Sandra was not someone she wanted to look stupid in front of.
‘Any thoughts on a junior?’ Cressida ventured, to give herself time to think. ‘And what about bail? Should we appeal?’ If there was a junior barrister involved that would make the second issue easier; she could ask them all the stupid questions and still look good to Sandra.
‘I’ll ask round my chambers,’ said Sandra. ‘We’ll need to see what the charges are first, and that will give me an idea of who would be good. Byron’s good on property crimes,’ she mused. ‘You could try a bail application, of course, always worth a go – but on this? No way.’
Well there was some leeway on the timing then, Cressida thought. She would keep working on InterConnex at the same time, at least during the beginning. Eight weeks for the brief of evidence, that was a start.