It was the type of room that seemed to be specifically designed to exclude all fresh air and to retain the pungent odour of last year's urine. It was a Monday morning and it was the first day of Nick's trial. It wasn't the conference room in which Liz Turner had first kissed him. But it might as well have been. All he could think about was that first kiss and whether, if he had been stronger and had resisted, things would have been different now. What if I pretended to be . . . what's the term9 Mute of malice? he continued.