sorry ma’am but I can’t give you that assurance.’
Sarah looked across to Brett Saunders. ‘Mr. Saunders, would you please have the staff from Communications come here. Have them bring the telephone log with them.’
‘Yes ma’am.’
*****
‘Gentlemen, has anyone here at Cavendish Hall made a phone call or phone calls to Morocco in the past three weeks?’ Sarah knew that all out-going calls went through the switchboard with the exception of one telephone; the one in Richard’s private office.
‘Yes ma’am, the young Moroccan girl, Mina has made several calls. She misses her family ma’am so I … she never talked for very long ma’am.’
Sarah had spread the log on the coffee table in front of her. ‘Mr. Mulphy, would you please check these telephone numbers and confirm that they all belong to the house at Ksar el-Zerhoun.’
‘This is the main switchboard number.’ Jack pointed to several entries. ‘The rest belong I guess to the various out-buildings since they all share the same prefix. I’m sorry ma’am but I’ve spent very little time at Ksar el-Zerhoun so I can’t say for sure which numbers belong to which phones.’
Sarah picked up the logbook then rose. ‘Thank you gentlemen, that will be all.’ Slowly she moved away towards the far end of the Amber Room, coming to rest next to the small table and the two photographs of two husbands. The men exchanged glances. Sensing their unease, she turned to face them.
‘She’s lying; all Mina’s family live in Rabat. She has no one in Ksar el-Zerhoun except perhaps her co-conspirator.’ She looked down at the picture of Richard then the one of Yusuf. She wanted to cry, wanted to scream. She did neither.
‘Whoever this individual is we will pluck him out and any others. This is what I wish done.’
12
Sarah stood at the front of Cavendish Hall with Richard’s first-born son William in her arms. He was nearly three years old; a miniature replica of his father. Beside her, clutching her skirt was young Master Richard; two years and two months old. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, there has been a change of plan. I will be taking only Marcus with me to Morocco so I would ask you please to return William, Richard and Elizabeth to the nursery. Thank you.’ She kissed William tenderly while all the while fighting back tears. ‘I’m sorry I will miss your birthday my darling son.’ She began to tremble. ‘Jean, please take him.’
Then she turned her attention to Richard; the child she saved by murdering Capritzo. She swept him into her arms. ‘Give your mother a big hug and an even bigger kiss.’ Holding him tight, she felt the tears build then overflow. Realizing her distress one of the nursery staff took him from her arms.
At fifteen months Marcus Yusuf Sarquazi couldn’t understand what all the fuss was about. He was happy kicking at the stone chips in the driveway. Mina held his hand. She had been told that all four children would be going to Morocco and now … Sarah’s eyes washed over her triumphantly causing Mina’s heart to skip a beat.
‘She knows!’
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