Noughts and Crosses, Malorie Blackman [types of ebook readers .txt] 📗

‘No.’

‘Did your brother Jude ever mention belonging to or joining the L.M.?’

‘No.’

‘So no-one in your family had anything to do with the planting of the bomb at the Dundale Shopping Centre?’

‘That’s right.’

‘And you’re sure that no-one in your family knew anything about it?’

‘That’s correct.’ How many more times?

‘Including you?’

‘Including me,’ I agreed, trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice. My sweaty palms told me that I was being led into a trap but I had no idea what it was. My shirt was beginning to stick to my sweaty body. I wanted to wipe my forehead but I thought that would make it look too much like I was lying, so I clenched my fists to keep them by my sides.

‘Your Honour, my learned colleague has been asking the same question for the last ten minutes,’ Kelani snapped. ‘If he has a point, perhaps he could be instructed to get to it some time soon.’

‘I have every intention of doing just that.’ The prosecutor’s smile was oily to say the least. ‘Your Honour, I call into evidence exhibit D19.’

What on earth was D19? I watched as a TV with a massive screen and a VCR were wheeled into the court. As two men set up the equipment opposite the jury, I risked a glance at my dad. He was watching me. And the moment I caught his eye, he almost imperceptibly shook his head. At first I wondered if I’d imagined it, but he continued to look at me, his eyes burning into mine, and I knew I hadn’t. I turned to Pingule, wondering what he was up to. And I swear he smirked back at me. One of the court clerks handed him a remote control handset. He turned to the TV. I did the same. If my heart was thumping before, it was dive-bombing now. The screen flickered to life. I don’t know what I’d been expecting but the Dundale Shopping Centre wasn’t it. The video had obviously been made from one of those closed-circuit TV cameras that were dotted all over the centre. And with a gasp of pure horror, it suddenly hit me what was coming.

‘Your Honour, this tape has been put together by the police, my office and two independent witnesses from prominent nought groups, to ensure that what we see today is exactly what was taped on the day of the infamous bombing,’ Pingule explained.

‘Your Honour, I strenuously object,’ Kelani began furiously. ‘I haven’t had a chance to preview these tapes and . . .’

‘I only acquired them yesterday evening and I and my colleagues have been working through the night to assemble this footage . . .’ Pingule didn’t get very far.

‘Your Honour, I must insist on being allowed to view the tapes first before they are entered into evidence so that I have a chance to prepare my defence . . .’

‘Your Honour, there are precedents to presenting evidence in court not yet seen by the defence. If I can quote . . .’

‘No, you may not,’ Judge Anderson interrupted. ‘I am well aware of the precedents, Mr Pingule. You’re not the only one who went to law school.’

‘My apologies.’

‘Your Honour . . .’ Kelani tried to bring the judge back to the subject in hand.

‘No, Ms Adams. I’ll allow it,’ said Judge Anderson. ‘I will however allow the court a recess after this witness has been questioned to give you time to prepare your response.’

As Kelani sat down she gave the judge a look that was pure ice. He didn’t miss it either. I saw from the slight tightening of his lips that he was less than pleased. I glared at Kelani. How would antagonizing the judge help my father’s case?

‘Now then, Callum, please could you identify the person running out of Allan and Shepherds Fine Goods store?’ asked the prosecutor.

I stared at the screen. Then blinked and swallowed hard. There was no mistake.

‘It . . . it’s me,’ I whispered.

‘Could you speak up please?’ Pingule said.

‘IT’S ME.’ I didn’t mean to shout, but that’s how it came out.

‘Can you tell me what you were doing in the Dundale at this time, approximately ten minutes before the bomb went off?’

‘I can’t remember.’

‘Let’s see if I can refresh your memory,’ said Pingule.

He pointed the remote at the TV and pressed the fast forward button. The time code at the bottom of the video leapt ahead seven minutes before he stopped the tape.

‘Is this still you entering the Cuckoo’s Egg café?’

I nodded.

‘We need a verbal response for the court audio tape,’ the judge told me.

‘Yes,’ I said.

Pingule let the tape play. A few moments later I could be seen leaving the café and pulling Sephy behind me. Although you couldn’t hear what was being said, it was obvious that all I wanted to do was get her out of there. The alarm at the shopping centre must’ve gone off then because Sephy started looking around, puzzled. I pulled her towards the nearest exit and then we both started running. Once we were out of the exit, Pingule fast forwarded for a couple of minutes and, without warning, there was a white flash from the café and the tape went dark.

The silence was damning.

‘Do you still insist that neither you nor any member of your family knew anything about the Dundale bomb?’ Pingule asked, scathingly.

‘Yes.’

‘I see. In this film, who are you pulling from the Cuckoo’s Egg café?’

‘Sephy . . .’

‘Persephone Hadley? Kamal Hadley’s daughter?’

‘Yes.’

‘What’s your relationship with Persephone Hadley?’

‘She . . . she’s a friend . . .’

Someone up in the public gallery started to whisper at that.

‘Could you tell this court why you were in such a hurry to get Persephone out of there?’

‘I . . . er . . . I said I’d meet her and I was late.’

‘Really?’ Pingule raised a sceptical eyebrow. ‘When you found her, why didn’t you sit down in the café with her or go for a stroll around the shops? What was the