And then she heard a single word and her heart stopped in mid-beat: “However—” She opened her eyes and stared at Mubita. His countenance had transformed. No longer was his expression matter-of-fact. He glowered at Darious like an avenging angel.
“However,” he said, “there is a witness whose testimony I found compelling. The child herself confronted the accused. She did not equivocate. ‘He touched me,’ she said. ‘He wasn’t supposed to touch.’ The truth could not be spoken any plainer. Taken together with corroborative evidence from the children and old women and the medical evidence offered by Dr. Chulu, and setting aside the unbelievable alibi offered by the accused, I find that Darious Nyambo in fact defiled Kuyeya Mizinga, a child under the age of sixteen, on August 20, 2011.”
Zoe watched in shock as Mubita delivered the coup de grace to a terrified Darious. “Let this be clear: no one is above the law, not even the son of a former cabinet minister. In accordance with the power vested in me by the Republic of Zambia, I commit your case to the High Court where you will be sentenced to no less than fifteen years in prison. The evil you have committed will not be tolerated by this nation.”
As soon as the judge departed the bench, the gallery erupted with noise. Zoe, however, sat in silence, incapable of believing what she had just witnessed. Nothing made sense. She had seen Mubita with Patricia Nyambo and the Deputy Minister of Justice. His behavior at trial had been inexplicable. He had mollified Frederick at the bar. He had delayed his decision until the Nyambos secured him an appointment to the High Court. Could it be that he had taken the bribe and walked away from the deal? Could he have defeated them at their own game?
She stood up slowly and accepted Joseph’s stunned embrace. She looked for Frederick and Patricia but didn’t see them. The press surrounded the legal team when they left the courtroom, every reporter asking a different question. Sarge and Niza offered rapid-fire answers, enjoying the limelight, but Zoe took Joseph’s hand and whispered: “Let’s go.”
They made their escape through the side exit, scurrying across the parking lot and keeping their heads down to avoid attracting the television crew. Joseph climbed into the Land Rover and started the engine, but Zoe looked back. She saw Frederick and Patricia leave the courthouse by the main doors. They forced their way through the cameras and walked quickly in her direction. With a start, Zoe realized that Frederick’s Jaguar was only two cars away.
The Nyambos didn’t notice her at first, but Zoe continued to stare at them, and the moment when it came seemed inevitable. Her eyes met Frederick’s across a distance of twenty feet. He looked startled, as if the sight of her carried an electric charge. For a split second, Zoe didn’t react. Then her expression caught the wind of her feelings, and she grinned.
The Rule of Achilles. We win.
What happened next turned the world on its head. Instead of following Frederick into the Jaguar, Patricia hesitated, her hand on the door. She met Zoe’s eyes and her lips curled into a smile. It was a vanishing thing, swallowed quickly by the sorrow that had preceded it, but its meaning was transparent—it was a smile that carried a secret, a smile of complicity. When she followed it with a nod, like a grace note, Zoe realized the truth.
Sliding into the Land Rover, she began to laugh and cry at the same time, as all the doubt and frustration of the past nine months rushed out of her on the current of vindication. The conspiracy of corruption had been thwarted by a conspiracy of mercy. Frederick had betrayed Patricia with Charity, and Patricia had betrayed him back, salvaging the institution to which she had committed her life, even at the expense of her son’s freedom. She had executed the deception perfectly, leading her husband to believe that she had set up the exchange with Mubita, making the necessary connections and delivering the High Court appointment. But she had neglected to tell him one thing: the Principal Resident Magistrate had no intention of selling out.
Suddenly, Zoe understood the last piece of the puzzle. Flexon Mubita. His behavior on the bench hadn’t been erratic. It had been purposeful. While giving Frederick and Darious the impressions they expected, he had built a blemishless evidentiary record and grounded his judgment on the surest foundation—the accusation of the victim, corroborated by eyewitness testimony and medical evidence. Far from subverting justice, the judge had given them a sublime gift: a ruling the High Court would never reverse.
“What?” Joseph said, giving her a peculiar look. “Something happened.”