There had been the expected considerable inquisitive and noisy crowd gathered at Wesley Square but not many had managed to obtain entry. The courtroom was packed and the seats allocated to the press were full: the accredited representatives seemed to have flooded in from leading nationals and local weeklies, and radio and television reporters were also present. The public seats held a wide variety of individuals, but women were notable by their presence in numbers, and there had already been some scenes during the presentation of the evidence for the prosecution, with two people being ejected after demonstrations of their anger and hatred in court, directed towards the man charged with being the Zodiac Killer. Eric Ward leaned back in his seat, watching as Sharon Owen prepared herself to attack the witness on the stand. He had briefed her and she was responding with all the skill that he knew she possessed. He glanced across to the prosecuting counsel. Quentin Pryce, a hook-nosed, middle-aged barrister of gloomy disposition, had been drafted in from the Midlands, presumably because of his earlier knowledge of the case, and he was looking distinctly uncomfortable, as he had good reason to be.
