Читать книгу Creatures of the Chase - Mikail - L. M. Ollie - Страница 6

Cavendish Hall, Southern Ireland

September 16th, 11:17 a.m.

The back seat of the Land Rover had been laid flat to accommodate the children’s paraphernalia, from training potties to bassinets and, it would seem everything in between. Carl Emery stood staring at the clutter while mentally shaking his head. ‘At this rate we’re going to need the other Rover.’

He turned as Jean Murphy arrived carrying her daughter Catherine. Both were dressed for travel. He frowned. ‘Where are you going Jean?’

‘I’ll not let her go to that God forsaken country without a friendly face being with her or wee Elizabeth without a companion.’

‘Does Mike know about this?’

Jean drew herself up to her full height. ‘I’ll not pretend that there’s a marriage between us. Mike would rather embrace a bottle of whiskey than his wife and children and that is his choice. I too have made a choice so it is done and finished. Catherine will stay with me and Christopher will remain here with Gabriel so the nursery will carry on with the laughter of children yet awhile. In a year and a day, we will return.’

‘There’s no guarantee Jean that the Benghazi will allow Sarah or the children to leave the country let alone return to Ireland.’

‘Well, we will just see about that, won’t we,’ she huffed.

‘Excuse me ma’am,’ one of the girls from the nursery whispered, ‘but the photographs have arrived and … here, I’ll take Catherine for a walk while there’s still time.’

‘Thank you Kathy,’ Jean said as she set Catherine down on the stone-chip driveway then took possession of a package wrapped in brown paper. She opened it. ‘Sarah wanted copies made to take with her.’

Carl watched as the first photograph appeared. He knew it well. It was a beautiful picture taken on the day Richard’s first born son William was christened. Sarah was dressed in a pale green woollen suit almost lost behind yards of white lace material that draped down from the child held securely in her left arm. Her right arm rested inside Richard’s. But the most striking feature was the happiness and yes, pride, so evident in both parents. The way his right hand rested on top of hers; the way they smiled almost shyly.

The original copy was in the Amber Room. It was the very same copy that Richard consigned to an album which he placed in the bottom drawer of one of the filing cabinets in the vault. When Carl retrieved Capritzo’s dead body that horrible, horrible night, the album and the photograph were found beside him.

‘Was that the last image he saw before he was rendered unconscious and his oxygen starved brain went into hyper-drive, manufacturing horrific nightmares from which he would not, could not waken?’

Carl tried to push the memory from his mind but … He could have saved him, could have opened the vault in time but he didn’t because he wanted Capritzo to die and so did Sarah. Carl had tampered with the fail-safe locking mechanism to make it look like an accident but the truth was that Sarah had closed the door, locked it then walked away and so too in a sense had Carl which made him an accessory after the fact: an accomplice to cold blooded murder. He didn’t care because earlier that evening he had pushed Capritzo’s bodyguard Maharsh backwards, sending him hurtling down the marble staircase to his death. No one helped him. It was all his own work and he was proud of it.

Why did she do it? Because Capritzo was determined to wipe out the Develin line.

‘Why? Did you hate your father so much that you would actively seek to destroy his grandchildren? Was that the reason or was there something else?’

Carl watched helpless as the second photograph appeared. It was of Sarquazi and his infant son Marcus. Sarquazi was spoon-feeding the child warm tea, heavily sweetened and milky. It was a loving, tender moment caught forever in time. Carl looked away as Jean ran the tip of her index finger across the glass.

‘She loved them both you know and she misses them so much.’ She turned away as the tears formed. ‘I’ll put them in her car now so she knows I’ve haven’t forgotten.’

Her car – Richard’s Daimler, lined up with the rest ready to take them to Dublin where Sarquazi’s ship waited to transport them to Morocco. Sarah would be leaving Cavendish Hall in just a few short hours with all of her children; perhaps never to return. It was a truth Carl Emery found insupportable.

*****

From the corner of his eye Carl caught sight of a shiny black Mercedes coupé as it turned off the main road and onto the driveway leading into Cavendish Hall. He wasn’t expecting anyone. He strained to see who it might be but the darkened windows gave nothing away beyond giving the vehicle a sinister look which alarmed him. ‘Jean,’ he called out, ‘get Kathy and the baby and go into the house - now.’

He backed away as the car ground to a halt and the driver’s door flew open. ‘How you doin’ boyo?’ Jack Mulphy shouted as he leapt from the vehicle.

‘What the fuck are you doing here?’ Carl shouted back.

‘Ah, thanks for the gracious welcome you asshole.’

They embraced warmly. Carl and Jack were childhood friends. When Carl lost his family in a tenement fire where he was eight years old, they lost touch with each other for over forty years. Two years ago Carl was able to track Jack down. He was a U.S. Marshall in Arizona but, as it turned out by chance, he was thinking of early retirement and returning to Ireland. And so he did as Head of Security at Cavendish Hall. Divorced, with no children Jack was ready and able to take on anything and that included a young wife introduced to him by Yusuf Sarquazi.

Jack liked Sarquazi almost as much as Carl hated him possibly because, despite the fact that Sarquazi had forced Sarah into marriage, she had fallen in love “with that black-eyed son of a bitch”; a situation Carl found intolerable. The worst part was that he made life difficult if not downright miserable for Sarquazi from the moment he arrived at Cavendish Hall with Sarah and his infant son until he died the very next day.

Jack would never forget the image of Sarah clutching Sarquazi’s body while screaming at Carl to stay away. She was hysterical with grief.

‘Do you know what I want you to do Mr. Emery? I want you to dig his grave, that’s what I want you to do; beside his mother. Beside his mother, do you hear me?’

Carl tried everything he could to make amends but no matter what he did he knew that she would never forgive him nor would she ever forget. ‘I’m not your little girl Mr. Emery, and I never have been.’

When Sarah arrived at Cavendish Hall in early January, 1980 Carl assumed that, like a young girl named Sabrina, she too was being paid handsomely for her services. His assumption was grossly incorrect; his assessment of the situation totally in error.

Sarah, if only I had known the truth then …

Then what Carl Emery? How could you have stopped him? You said yourself that he was fucking crazy.

Richard Develin had ordered Sarah’s abduction. How they managed to get her on board his private jet without being seen was a mystery. Undoubtedly she was drugged. By the time she arrived at Cavendish Hall she was fully conscious and spitting mad. Carl’s initial encounter with her was short but not very sweet.

‘Your name isn’t Igor by any chance, is it?’

‘No miss, Carl Emery.’

‘Well Carl, give my compliments to Mr. Develin and tell him for me that he can go straight to hell. Do you think you can remember all that?’

He moved so fast that Sarah had no opportunity to defend herself as he took hold of her right arm in a savage grip then proceeded to half drag; half carry her up the remaining steps and along the corridor to the left. Suddenly he stopped before a set of double doors and released her.

‘I suggest, Miss Churchill, that you deliver the message yourself.’

Sarah’s first encounter with Richard Develin was equally stormy. She should have been terrified of him but, as everyone would soon discover there was nothing ordinary or predictable about Sarah Winthrope Churchill.

Richard Develin was forty-nine years old, six feet tall with pale skin and jet black hair drawn straight back and lightly oiled. But it was his eyes that were the most arresting feature. They were pale blue and predatory. Richard Develin was not someone you would want to trifle with as Sarah would soon discover but then again, either was Sarah.

He should have been honest with her. He should have opened up a little but that would have been out of character and not part of the plan. Truth was he wasn’t interested in a relationship. What Richard Develin wanted from Sarah was simple and straightforward. He was dying of a rare form of leukemia called Multiple Myeloma and he needed an heir. Sarah was going to provide him with one whether she wanted to or not. Although he was prepared to make things as easy as possible for her he was also running out of time. They first met on Wednesday evening; she was in his bed Monday night. That was the beginning of an extraordinary relationship which culminated in the birth of William Churchill Develin nine months later. As unlikely as it seemed at the beginning, Richard and Sarah fell in love and, although he never actually said so to her, it was evident nevertheless.

On Christmas Eve she gave him the greatest gift possible; the knowledge that she was pregnant again. That was when he asked her to marry him but he died of a massive heart attack before the ceremony could take place.

*****

She ran her finger tips across his face and then she kissed him, but his lips were already cold.

Carl gently pulled her away. ‘Sarah, let Father Donovan perform the Last Rites.’

She stood dazed, supported by Doctor Bryan and Carl. Halfway through, she fainted.

Carl lifted her into his arms and held her close as he watched through his tears as Father Donovan anointed Develin’s brow with holy oil. Finally the priest stepped back, the ritual complete.

Carl stared down at Sarah and smiled. ‘Gentlemen, as far as I am concerned, a marriage has been performed here which legitimatizes Master William and the child yet unborn. Unless any of you wish to voice any strong objection, I shall in future refer to this young lady as Mrs. Richard Mayfair Develin.’

‘And so say I,’ intoned Doctor Bryan.

Liam nodded. ‘And so say I.’

Father Donovan anointed Sarah’s forehead with holy oil. ‘And so shall it be recorded.’

*****

Richard had left Sarah a note and a ring; both would remain her most treasured possessions.

Better by far you should forget and smile

Than that you should remember and be sad.

I said that I would never apologize to you again but I was wrong and now I find that sorry is too inadequate a word. I can but trust that where I can never have your forgiveness, I can at least hope that ultimately you will understand. You have rendered me rich beyond measure in both a son and your love. I thank you for both.

Have a wonderful life, my dearest, darling Sarah. Richard

Inside the envelope was the ring engraved simply - SWC Despite Everything RMD

*****

‘So, is this a rental car or what?’ Carl asked as he nodded towards the Mercedes.

Jack smiled. ‘Found it in the ship’s forward hold on a specially designed platform tied down and covered up snug as a bug. Yusuf Sarquazi would never use a rental car.’

‘Following in his footsteps; that’s nice.’

‘Fuck you Emery.’ Jack looked around. ‘I haven’t come to see you anyhow or put up with your bullshit. Where is she?’

‘I assume by “she” you mean Mrs. Develin-Sarquazi. She’s saying goodbye.’ Carl nodded towards the mausoleum.

‘Is Alan with her?’

Carl shook his head. ‘Alan has gone back to Boston. As I said it’s Mrs. Develin-Sarquazi. They’re divorcing.’

‘Shit! What happened?’

‘I guess Seefan said it best. She has run with wolves. You have but to look into her eyes to see the wildness there. Alan to her was nothing more than a puppy by comparison and, quite frankly I don’t think he rated even that.’ He sighed. ‘Sarah’s lawyer, Patrick Turner received the divorce papers just a few days ago.’

‘So she knows.’

‘Yes, she knows as she also knows that he’s demanding a major financial settlement. I don’t know how much, but it will be in the millions I’m sure. When Turner told her she instructed him to pay Alan whatever he wanted and get rid of him.’

‘That’s sad.’

‘Yeah, well there it is. Seefan knew the marriage was in trouble but she didn’t know how to tell me until … I confronted Alan and well, he was pretty bitter.’

*****

Carl caught Alan coming out of the library. ‘Alan, you had better get that wife of yours under control.’

‘Why don’t you ask me to stop the tides? That would be a piece of cake by comparison.’

‘Are you telling me that you can’t or you won’t?’

‘Both I guess.’

‘She needs a firm hand Alan otherwise …’

‘Okay, what do you suggest I do?’

‘I don’t know. Knock her up for Christ’s sake. That will slow her down, at least for a while.’

‘She’s on the pill Carl and will remain so. No going there; I’ve already tried.’

‘So, there will be no real Roses amongst the adopted ones in our garden nursery?’

‘Didn’t Sarah tell you? She’s changed her mind regarding adoption thanks in part to Patrick Turner. Apparently as their adoptive father I would gain control over them and their inheritances and we can’t have that, can we?’ He smiled wickedly. ‘I nearly had it all Carl and now what am I? Christ, we should take our act on the road. Sarah can be the organ grinder and I can be her monkey.’ He did a little grotesque parody; face contorted and arms waving. ‘All I’ll need is a collar and a chain but hey, wait a minute maybe it’s already there and I haven’t noticed yet.’

‘Oh for Christ’s sake Alan, stop it. Maybe if you had sat at the head of the table and …’

‘Oh please Carl, give it a rest. I’ve been in that dining room since I was six years old and the head of the table was always filled to overflowing with Richard’s presence. It still is.’ He brightened suddenly. ‘I know what I’ll do. I’ll go through Cavendish Hall and piss in all the corners and, if I do a good job, a really good job then maybe Sarah will stop thinking of him, Sarquazi and, who knows Capritzo as well.’

*****

Jack frowned. ‘What do you think he meant by nearly having it all? Do you think he married her for her money?’

Carl shrugged. ‘If he did it’s all Richard’s fault. After Alan’s father died in a boating accident when he was six, Richard sort of took over the job of raising the boy. He was his godfather after all. Richard would send airplane tickets to Alan and sometimes his mother as well; all expense paid trips to exotic destinations. After Alan’s mother died of breast cancer when he was eighteen, Richard basically financed his education, accommodation - everything. Every month like clockwork, money would be deposited into his bank account and, if he needed more, he got it; no questions asked. Of course the trips continued. Fair to say I think that Alan grew up thinking of himself as someone special. Whatever salary he pulls down as Director of Develin Pharmaceuticals Research and Development in Boston, wouldn’t begin to satisfy his appetite for the high life.’

‘When did he arrive back in Boston?’

‘He left here two weeks ago and decided to have himself a little holiday in the U.K. Twice American Express called seeking expenditure authorization; isn’t that what it’s called when you spend up big? He got back to Boston three days ago. We know that for a fact because he promptly went out and bought a Mercedes 450SL just like Sarah’s. She was livid.’

‘Carl, Justine Benghazi is still at the Brownstone and she still has a major hate on for both you and Sarah. If she got it in her mind to … look, if I were you I’d give Alan a call and tell him to get the hell out of Boston as soon as possible. Send him down to Peru or somewhere, but get him out of Boston.’

Carl blanched. ‘Do you think that he’s … Christ almighty; I’ll give him a call right away.’

‘Good.’ Jack wasn’t quite sure how Carl was going to take this but there would never be a better time than right now. Besides, there are some things that are best said face to face.

‘The Benghazi will want her to marry again as soon as the divorce is finalized. Or Alan fetches up dead.’

Carl shook his head. ‘I very much doubt if she would be interested in ever marrying again.’

‘Carl, I hate to be the bearer of bad news but I don’t think she will have an awful lot to say about it. Muslims don’t like women of child-bearing age as divorcees or widows.’

‘They can’t force her.’

‘They’ll do a Godfather on her and make her an offer she can’t refuse. And that may happen sooner then you think Carl because Alan’s decision to abandon the security of Cavendish Hall has put him in grave danger.’

Stop it Jack; you’re just being paranoiac. ‘Get him out of there Carl – now!’

Almost as if he could read Jack’s mind, Carl changed the subject abruptly. ‘Speaking of marriage how is Mirah?’

Jack smiled. ‘She’s pregnant again.’

‘So, it was another dark and stormy night for you was it?’

‘Indeed it was a very dark and a very stormy night, for both of us.’ His smiled broadened. ‘She’s a fantastic wife and mother Carl and a great help with the business.’

‘What is it that you actually do Jack?’

Jack began to move away. He wasn’t prepared to go there because Carl just won’t understand. ‘Lots of things boyo.’ He checked the time. ‘Call Alan even if you have to wake him up. I’m just going to go and say hello and ah … to her and to him.’

By “him”, Jack meant Yusuf Sarquazi who was buried not far from the Develin mausoleum beside his mother and his uncle. Near by were the graves of Merhot Capritzo and his father, Charles Develin. Each grave had its own story.