Pantheon 00 - Age of Godpunk Read Online Free

unmistakable.
    There is a way, though , Anansi whispered in my mind.
    Was there? Well, maybe. But it would take an audacious person to pull it off.
    And aren’t you that person, Dion?
     
     
    I N COURT, I tore into the case the police had built up.
    “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, you will note the recurrence of the word ‘Colombian’ in these texts, used in connection with weight – pounds and ounces – and monetary value. From that, the prosecution wishes you to infer that the accused and his associate, a trading partner, were negotiating the sale of a quantity of cocaine. This is perfectly possible. But is it not equally possible, if not more so, that the goods in question were of an entirely innocent nature? I put it to you that ‘Colombian’ could easily be taken to mean ‘coffee.’”
    There was an audible gasp from the viewing gallery. My learned friend, the counsel for the prosecution, could barely stifle an incredulous groan. The judge remained impassive, as he should, but I detected a glint of wry amusement in His Honour’s wrinkled old eyes.
    I soldiered on. Nobody was going to buy this line of argument.
    But what if they do? said Anansi.
    “My client is no fool. As we all know, no text-message conversation these days can ever truly be considered private. Who in their right mind would openly, overtly conduct a drugs deal via this medium? I put it to you, members of the jury, that the transcript before you centres on nothing more illegal or sinister than a purchase of ground coffee in bulk, coffee being of course one of the exports for which the country of Colombia is famous. Indeed, I myself drink a cup of Colombian blend every morning.”
    One or two of the jurors began nodding. By God, it seemed to be working. I was winning them over.
    “If there is any doubt in your minds that this principal piece of evidence is in any way suspect,” I went on, “if it is at all conceivable to you that the prosecution’s case rests almost wholly on the misinterpretation of a string of innocuous text messages between two law-abiding individuals going about their legitimate business, then you have no alternative but to acquit the man in the dock and let him walk free from this courtroom without a stain on his reputation.”
    And what do you know, they did.
    The champagne corks popped in chambers that afternoon, I can tell you. One of the senior barristers, who was also my former pupil master, professed himself amazed that I’d bamboozled the jury with such an obvious ruse.
    “It wasn’t what I did,” I told him. “It was how I did it. It’s all in the delivery.”
    “Still and all, dear boy,” he said, “a fine example of legal sleight of hand. I’m proud of you.”
    “I had a good teacher,” I said.
    Yes , said Anansi. Yes, you did .
     
     
    F LUSH FROM THAT success, I decided to exact revenge on my one-time blind date, who was still spouting uncomplimentary things about me behind my back. I phoned the Law Society and gave them an anonymous tipoff that the young lady was conducting an improper relationship with a senior partner in her firm of solicitors. I’d done my homework. I named the man, who was married, a father of two, a churchgoer, a charity fundraiser, a pillar of his local community. Whiter than white, in so many ways. Never in a million years would he be likely to dally at the office with an employee, especially one of colour – which somehow made it all the more plausible that he might, not to mention all the more outrageous.
    The bigger the lie , said Anansi, the more credence people will give it .
    And he should know. Had he not wooed and won his wife Aso by convincing her he was greatly in demand among the female animals and hence a worthy “catch”? He did this by tying a rope to each of his eight legs and having hidden animal friends tug on the different ropes. He told Aso the ropes were attached to other prospective wives, who were tugging to get his attention. If Aso wished