Learned Enemies

By Mark Dryden

A top silk is found dead in his room on a prestigious floor of barristers. It looks like an accident until the police discover he was murdered. The news media pounce. Suspicion and paranoia run rampant. Baby barrister, Benjamin Douglas, hunts for the killer. A fast-paced comic novel about life and death at the Sydney Bar.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mark Dryden
• Release date: Nov 26, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005471170

Mark Dryden

‘Mark Dryden’ is the pen name of Peter Menadue who was a non-prizewinning journalist before studying law at the University of Sydney and Oxford University. He has worked as a barrister in Sydney for more than 20 years. He has written numerous non-legal novels under his own name.

Book preview

LEARNED ENEMIES

by

Mark Dryden

Copyright 2020 Peter Menadue

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

‘Mark Dryden’ is the pen name of Peter Menadue who was a non-prizewinning journalist before studying law at the University of Sydney and Oxford University. He has worked as a barrister, in Sydney, since 1996. He has written numerous novels under his own name.

CHAPTER ONE

Benjamin Douglas stared over a couple of bobbling barristers’ wigs at the Chief Financial Officer sitting in the witness box. When the CFO started giving evidence, two weeks ago, he was a cocksure corporate warlord. Relentless cross-examination since then had worn him down. He looked drawn and furtive. His hair had lost its tropical luxuriance.

The hearing was a grand affair. One huge bank was suing another huge bank in the Supreme Court of New South Wales for $500 million in damages. The hearing had already run for six weeks and was expected to last another ten.

Three barristers and about half-a-dozen instructing solicitors represented each bank. There were so many lawyers in the courtroom that three parallel bar tables were set up. The six barristers were spread along the front table; the solicitors filled the next two.

The leading barrister for the plaintiff bank was a silk called Alex Hume. His senior-junior, Trevor Mannix, sat beside him and Benjamin, a first-year barrister, had squeezed onto the end of the bar table. Benjamin had to constantly defend his tiny patch from encroaching folders and books. His personal space was fair game.

Hume usually addressed the judge on behalf of the plaintiff, though Mannix sometimes handled housekeeping matters. Benjamin had not said a word and did not expect to say one. He was a gopher. His job was to do legal research, draft written submissions and write summaries of the evidence. It was like having an office job.

When, during his student days, he dreamed about becoming a barrister, this scenario did not loop through his head. He appeared instead in a massive courtroom with a frescoed ceiling and ornate mahogany furniture. An imposing judge sat high above the fray while Benjamin machine-gunned lying witnesses with devastating questions. The truth triumphed; justice prevailed and he accepted the thanks of his clients with becoming modesty. He never imagined himself sitting at the end of a bar table, in a pine-panelled courtroom, struggling to stay awake.

The Chief Financial Officer was the sixth and most important witness that Alex Hume had called on behalf of the plaintiff bank. It was vital that he perform well under cross-examination. Unfortunately, he did not. The bank executive sent a lot of emails to his staff that he should never have sent, and they came back to haunt him. The leading counsel for the defendant bank, Michael Skinner of Senior Counsel, used the emails, day after day, to tear the executive to shreds.

Skinner had a huge reputation at the Sydney Bar. Throughout the hearing, Benjamin had closely studied his cross-examination technique, hoping to learn his tricks. The silk was usually good-humoured and rarely raised his voice. He gently led witnesses to the edge of a forensic cliff and, with a pleasant smile, pushed them off it. They only saw the danger when in freefall. Benjamin had only cross-examined witnesses at moot hearings that the Bar Association organised. He would definitely imitate Skinner when he finally cross-examined a real one in a real courtroom.

Benjamin and almost everyone else in the courtroom were now tired of watching Skinner torture the witness and wanted him to stop. It was late afternoon. Benjamin’s concentration wandered and his vision blurred. He could read a transcript of the cross-examination later if he wanted. He was tempted to do some internet shopping on the laptop in front of him. Maybe he should buy the fountain pen he’d slobbered over for a week. It was unlikely anyone would notice. While Skinner and the witness burbled away in the background, his head dropped towards his chest and the fountain pen faded from his mind. He wanted to rest his head on his arms and sleep. He would kill for a cup of coffee.

Justice Brian Nesbit has a similar problem. Throughout the afternoon, his heavy-lidded and baggy face had grown sleepier. A couple of times, his eyes closed and he rocked sideways as if about to topple off his chair. Only when the big wall clock showed four o’clock - the usual adjournment time - did he emerge from his trance and looked at the barrister on his feet. I note the hour, Mr Skinner. Is this a convenient time to adjourn for the day?

Skinner looked like he could continue until midnight. Yes, your Honour.

Good. Umm, how much longer will your cross-examination last?

Only a few more days.

A loud sigh. Yes, well, alright. He looked at the question-drunk witness. Mr Tomkins. Let me remind you again that, while you’re being cross-examined, you cannot talk to anyone, including your lawyers, about these proceedings. Do you understand that?

The witness said: Yes.

Good. I adjourn until tomorrow.

The judge scuttled off the bench with his tipstaff and associate in hot pursuit. The lawyers at the bar tables jumped up like schoolkids hearing the last bell. The witness trudged from the courtroom wearing a haunted expression.

Alex Hume rose and turned towards his instructing solicitor, Andrea Carlson, sitting right behind him. She was a litigation partner at a huge commercial law firm called Ash & Rabb, better known as Smash & Grab. She had selected the three barristers who appeared for the plaintiff bank and, with her minions, prepared the matter for hearing. She was in her mid-forties and still very attractive in a predatory way. She was known as a hard-nosed litigator who menaced opponents and the counsel she briefed. Benjamin never relaxed in her presence.

Alex Hume smiled. Let’s go back to my chambers for a pow-wow.

CHAPTER TWO

The Barwick Chambers building was a sclerotic 15-storey structure that stood beside the neo-brutalist Supreme Court tower. It housed about 500 barristers - almost half of the Sydney Bar - and had a separate set of chambers on each floor. The three barristers who represented the plaintiff bank all belonged to Fourteenth Floor, Barwick Chambers.

Alex Hume led his two colleagues, as well as Andrea Carlson and two junior solicitors, out of the Supreme Court tower and around to the Barwick Chambers building. Benjamin had not seen the two junior solicitors before today. The junior solicitors who worked on the matter appeared and disappeared with great rapidity. What happened to them? Were they sacked? Transferred? Mashed into paste? How long would these two last?

Hume led his party through the tiled foyer of the building and into a lift which rose to the fourteenth floor. They stepped into a reception area that projected dignity and tradition. Fake Greek columns framed a huge mahogany counter that rested on a marble terrazzo floor. Faux-mahogany paneling and calfskin law reports lined the walls. Two hefty leather sofas allowed clients to await conferences in comfort.

The building was a hollow square with a huge light well in the middle. A long corridor, with rooms on each side, ran around each floor. Hume led everyone past the bob-haired receptionist towards his room.

Until recently, most barristers occupied book-lined grottoes. However, the rise of the internet made paper books redundant. Many barristers replaced their bookshelves with wood-panelling and modular furniture. Some, though, did not update their rooms. They were too lazy to renovate or thought the presence of law books anchored them in the past and hinted at vast legal erudition.

Alex Hume had retained the traditional decor. On three walls, law books soared up to the high ceiling. A long railing, fixed just above head height, supported a library ladder. The fourth wall had several sliding windows that overlooked the huge light well.

A massive mahogany empire desk with four clawed legs sat on a thick blue carpet. It faced a chesterfield sofa and several ornate needlepoint chairs.

The only objects on Hume’s desk were a computer and a wig-stand with a solid oak hemisphere. He sat and, after carefully placing his peruke on the stand, asked everyone to take a seat. They all sat, except for Benjamin, who lounged against a wall of calf-skin law reports and studied Hume. He did not know the guy well. A friendly solicitor at Smash & Grab advised Andrea Carlson to brief Benjamin in the case. Benjamin met Hume, for the first time, after she briefed him.

His first impressions of Hume were quite positive. Hume fitted the popular image of a top silk. He was in his late forties, tall and handsome, with a smooth manner and a faint drawl. However, Benjamin had started to have serious doubts about the guy. Hume was a performer, not an advocate. Instead of mastering the facts and law of the case, he milked his two junior counsel for essential information and presented it with conviction. He had no clear strategy and improvised a lot.

Benjamin needed a patron like Hume. However, Benjamin found it hard to flatter someone he did not respect. Somehow, he had to overcome that inhibition. He was trying to build a career, after all. This was no time to be squeamish. Fortunately, the hearing would last for many more weeks. He had plenty of time to start toadying.

Andrea Carlson shared none of his reservations about Hume. Despite her well-earned reputation for rudeness and arrogance, she hung on every word he said and ignored his two junior counsel. She was another person who Benjamin needed to butter up. She could, if she wanted, shower him with work. However, he expected that, after the hearing finished, he would never hear from her again.

She said: Tomkins is taking a battering?

Hume ran his hands through dyed chestnut hair and provided his usual upbeat assessment. Yes, but we expected that. No reason to despair, yet. I’ll repair some of the damage when I re-examine him and I’ve still got to cross-examine all of their witnesses, remember. Tomkins is not the only witness with stuff to hide.

She looked pleased. True.

Still, it will be nice if this matter settles. Any chance of that?

Each bank had created an independent team of executives and lawyers to negotiate a settlement of the proceedings and several other commercial disputes. They met daily in a huge conference room, high above the city, and tossed offers back and forth. Every so often, the lawyers appearing in court were told a settlement was close, only to be disappointed.

Alison Carlson said: I’ve heard there is no progress at the moment, though that could change fast. The CEOs are going to dine together, soon. That might produce a breakthrough.

A shrug. Nothing we can do about that, I suppose. We’ve just got to stay on our toes. Anything else you want to discuss?

No.

Alright, let me show you out.

Alex Hume escorted the three solicitors out to the lifts and left Benjamin with Trevor Mannix. The senior-junior was in his late forties, with a pudding face and muscular frame that came from lifting weights. Hume and Mannix had worked together for a long time and clearly complemented each other. Hume was the salesman, and Mannix the dour and hard-working underling always on top of the facts. Mannix was like his second, and better, brain. Benjamin sensed that Hume would be lost without him.

Benjamin looked at him. Alex seems confident we’ll win.

A roll of the eyes. He always is. That’s why solicitors love him.

"How are we really going?"

Mannix scowled. We’re heading straight for the iceberg. Let’s hope the parties settle.

Why would the other side settle if we’re on the run?

A shrug. Don’t over-estimate the importance of this litigation. The banks are using it as a platform to ventilate other issues. When they sort them out, this case will settle in the blink of an eye.

Hume returned from the lifts and looked at Mannix. Trevor, I’d better get ready to re-examine Tomkins. Will you prepare a list of questions for me to ask?

Sure.

Hume looked at Benjamin. And you’ll prepare a summary of today’s evidence?

Of course.

Good, I’ll see you guys in the morning.

Benjamin and Mannix left the room