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DNA testing is done, not on the whole DNA code, but on the four genetic markers in which the core differences can be seen, where individuals differ most widely,” he finished. “In theory, there is a chance of an accidental match, which is capable of being computed.”
    Judy had a strong suspicion that Whitehouse had begun nodding off again as the expert launched into an even more wordy explanation of how one strand gave you a one-in-a-thousand chance of an accidental match, the next one in a hundred, and those multiplied to give one in a hundred thousand, and the next …
    “In this case there is one chance in three million that this could be an accidental match,” he concluded.
    He
concluded
. The few who had remained throughout shifted in their seats; Whitehouse looked up, smiled at his expert, and stood.
    “While I am sure that the jury is grateful to you for your detailed explanation of the process,” he said, “they are going to be asked to judge a man’s guilt or innocence in respect of a series of exceptionally serious crimes, and your analysis will form a very large part of that judgment. I imagine that they would like to know what conclusion you, as an expert, draw from that analysis.”
    “That the seminal fluids found on the underclothing of the second victim, Mrs. Rachel Ashman, originated from the defendant,” he said.
    “And you have no doubt of that?”
    “None at all.”
    “Thank you,” said Whitehouse, with an audible sigh of relief. “No further questions, my lord.”
    “Mr. Harper, do you wish to cross-examine?”
    “No, my lord,” said Hotshot, who at least knew when to fold his cards, thought Judy.
    Whitehouse rose again. “That is the case for the prosecution, my lord.”
Barton Crown Court, Thursday 9 July
    The jury filed in, conscious that they were merely dressing the set. The excited murmur of anticipation from the gallery began only as the stage filled up with the players.
    And in they came, the black-gowned court officials, the be-wigged barristers. Amid the muted hubbub, Harper and Whitehouse talked seriously to their instructing solicitors about nothing whatever, aware of their more substantial roles in the drama, and trying to look as though they were not.
    The public gallery which had emptied yesterday during the DNA expert’s dissertation on his infant discipline was full once more, and Harper was beginning to recognize a few of the faces; whether their interest was personal, professional, prudent or prurient, he had no way of knowing. DI Hill was there, as she had been every day; her interest, he presumed, was professional. His interest in her was rather more personal. He’d found out so far that she was a Londoner, whose father was some sort of academic. He wondered what he thought of his daughter’s choice of career.
    The murmur fell away to nothing as the houselights metaphorically dimmed, and the entrance of the judge, solemn and stem, brought those who had business with the Queen’s Justices to silence, and their feet. But even he was to be upstaged, for the packed house awaited the appearance of only one man: the accused.
    The first witness for the defense was to be Colin Arthur Drummond himself; he was going to attempt to account for both the circumstances in which he had been arrested and his subsequent confession, in the hope that he would somehow be found not guilty.
    Harper had had one last go at dissuading his client from entering the witness box, but had failed. Before that, he had failed to persuade him to plead guilty in the light of the DNA evidence,he had failed to persuade him to change the story to which he obstinately clung, and he had failed to get out of taking the case at all.
    Drummond’s solicitor was an old friend of Harper’s father; he had sent the young Harper a lot of good work when he had been starting out, and he had called in all the favors he had ever done him when he had asked Harper to represent Drummond.
    Now, assuming his