meaning. He knows … I mean he knew too many people in high places so we always had to be very, very careful. Cause of death is listed as “misadventure” but I don’t know the details. Hey, look what I found; a bottle of Irish whiskey. Now that’s what I call apropos.’
He poured out two glasses; handing one to Yakinchuk. ‘I think a toast is in order so here goes; to Richard Develin and Merhot Capritzo; two extraordinary men and to this woman, Sarah Churchill who must be even more extraordinary.’
Yakinchuk stood up. ‘To extraordinary people,’ he said sadly as he toasted the memory of a living, breathing Richard Develin. He took a gulp of the whiskey then let the liquid slowly burn its way down his throat.
Munroe was watching him closely. ‘Are you okay Vic?’
‘What I want to know is why would Capritzo go to Cavendish Hall? What connects Develin and Capritzo other than women of course?’
‘Women; you mean other than Sarah Churchill?’
Yakinchuk quickly told Munroe the story of Susan Kojak. ‘Capritzo sent a young girl he knew had a heart condition into the proverbial lion’s den and she got chewed up real bad by Develin despite what the official report says.’
‘You’re working on your gut instinct Vic,’ Munroe replied as he watched Yakinchuk walk towards the windows. ‘You can’t prove it.’
Yakinchuk stared through his reflection to the street below. ‘I followed Develin and Emery out to the airport.’ He paused, trying to find the rights words. ‘You know, I’ve forgotten this until now. How could I forget something so ….’ He swallowed hard.
‘When I arrived, Develin was on the tarmac saying goodbye to Emery. He had his back to me and ah … I heard Emery ask him something about what he was doing to the girl just prior to her death.’ Yakinchuk ran both hands across his face. They were shaking. Slowly he turned to face Munroe. ‘Do you know what Develin said? He said he was practicing.’
‘Jesus,’ Munroe said as he leaned back in his chair. ‘Did he see you?’
‘Oh yeah, we had a lovely chat.’ He smiled almost shyly. ‘Got to tell you Stan; he scared the shit out of me.’
‘Have you ever met Capritzo?’ Munroe asked.
‘No. I don’t even know what he looks like.’
‘Give me a minute,’ Munroe said as he jumped up from his seat and hurried into the room next door. Moments later he was back with a several large photo albums.
‘Develin and Capritzo were both extremely camera shy but I’ve got a few photos here in my rogues gallery.’ Checking the index first, Munroe flipped though the heavy pages before coming to rest on page seven. ‘There he is.’
Yakinchuk leaned in closer to examine the first of several clandestine photos of Capritzo taken by the Bureau over the years. Tall and slender with jet black hair and a widow’s peak; black eyes and pale skin. In one photo he was looking straight at the camera, immaculately dressed in a three-piece suit, just like Develin. ‘He’s an evil looking bastard.’
‘He was fucking evil period.’
‘Have you got any photos of Develin?’
‘Sure,’ Munroe said as he checked the index again. He reached for another album and quickly turned to page seventeen. ‘These were all taken the same day; at Santa Anita. We knew he would be there because one of his horses was running.’
Yakinchuk stared at the photos like a fan would a rock star. There was one of him sitting in the owners’ enclosure beside a strikingly beautiful redhead. His head was slightly bowed as she whispered in his ear. The rest were variations on the same theme but the last one caught Yakinchuk’s attention and his imagination. Develin was standing alone; arms folded across his chest; his head held high.
‘Stan, let me see Capritzo’s photos again.’ Munroe handed Yakinchuk the open album. Yakinchuk carefully placed the two albums together so that both pages were side by side. ‘Is it my imagination or is there a resemblance?’
Yakinchuk moved to one side to allow Munroe a closer look. ‘Yeah, I suppose there is. I know Capritzo was born in Cairo; travelled on an Italian passport and that he took the name Capritzo from the family that raised him. All the records were lost sometime during the war but we do know that his birth mother died young. Whoever the father was he was a no-show in his life. The Capritzo family has connections to the Benghazi family or should I say tribe in Libya and Morocco so there’s an Arab slash Sunni Muslim slash Italian slash Berber connection there. Omar Mauphet Benghazi, now he was a nasty piece of work.
‘Vic, are you suggesting that Develin and Capritzo are somehow related?’
Yakinchuk frowned as he stared down at the two albums. ‘I don’t know what I’m suggesting.’ He sighed. ‘Right, let’s check and see if Develin left an heir.’
*****
‘I’ve got two darling little boys for you Vic; William Churchill Develin - born September twenty-fourth last year and Richard Winthrope Develin born the twenty-second of July last. It’s not hard from this to figure out who the mother is.’
Yakinchuk nodded. ‘Develin didn’t live long enough to see his second son born.’
‘Yeah,’ Munroe replied sadly.
‘Neil Perry said that he was a Double-O-Seven. Is that true?’
‘Yeah, it’s true although it’s also true that he freelanced.’
Yakinchuk laughed. ‘And what does that mean?’
Munroe smiled. ‘Do you remember my kid sister Liz?’ Yakinchuk nodded. ‘Well, about six years ago I guess Liz and her girlfriend Bonny took a two week trip to the UK. They came back broke, exhausted and overflowing with stories. I was in New York so I picked them up at JFK. They flew British Airways.’
Munroe reached for his glass of whiskey and took a couple of sips before continuing. ‘I remember asking about the flights. Liz said that the trip back was boring because the airline showed the same movie going over and coming back; typical teen eh?’ He smiled. ‘Bonny on the other hand thought the flight was the best thanks to the Chief Purser. Tall, dark and handsome was how she described him; beautiful cold blue eyes and the most wonderful English accent; and when he smiled …’ He laughed this time, remembering.
‘She admitted that she fell in love instantly. I gather she was planning to seduce him given half a chance. She also admitted that the pilot kept the seatbelt sign on for most of the flight; cautioning the passengers and crew to remain seated because of impending turbulence which, she added, never happened.
‘They arrived back on a Saturday. On Monday information began to flow in regarding a couple of known terrorists found dead in one of the toilets on a British Airlines flight out of Heathrow. I remembered the girls’ flight number so you can imagine how horrified
