‘He’s not here either,’ she sobbed. ‘The police are asking all sorts of questions but they won’t tell us anything.’
‘Vivienne, have Doctor Meaker call me as soon as possible.’
Carl went back to the dining room. ‘Jack, can you spare me a moment please.’
‘Sure,’ Jack said as he stood up. ‘Excuse me ma’am, sir.’
Jack followed Carl into the Amber Room but Carl didn’t stop there. A door on the far side of the room lead directly into what was once Richard Develin’s private office. Carl locked the door behind them. When he turned to Jack there were tears in his eyes and he was trembling.
‘Carl, what’s wrong?’
‘There’s been a … a murder at the Lab in Boston and ah … I’ve put a call through to the Boston PD. Victor Yakinchuk’s partner, Neil Perry, he ah … Oh Christ Jack, it could be Alan.’ The telephone rang. Carl just stood staring at it, afraid to pick it up.
‘Hello, is this Neil Perry?’ Jack asked. ‘I’m Jack Mulphy. I’m a retired U.S. Marshall from Phoenix, Arizona and I’m also a close friend of Carl Emery and Alan Rose. I ah … we understand that there has been a homicide at the Lab in Boston and that …’ Jack listened to what Perry had to say. ‘He was his godson. Yes … yes, I will have him call you back. Thank you.’ He hung up the telephone then turned to Carl. ‘Alan Rose was murdered sometime around nine p.m. last night and …’
Carl burst into tears. ‘How am I going to tell Sarah? God in Heaven what am I going to say?’
Jack grabbed Carl by the arm and shook him. ‘Listen to me. You’re not going to tell Sarah anything. I will tell her once we are out to sea and …’
‘What the fuck are talking about Jack. She needs to know; she needs to come with me to Boston to …’
‘Will you stop being so goddamn stupid. That’s exactly what they want her to do. They’ll be watching and waiting for her and you and … They murdered Alan because he was in the way so do you think they’d have any qualms whatsoever about murdering you too?’
‘Who are they? Do the police know who killed Alan?’
‘Neil Perry suggested that it was a sacrificial murder and I agree with him.’ Carl stepped back, horrified. ‘Alan was knocked unconscious then his throat was cut, halal style. He bled out in less than a minute.’ Carl groaned. ‘Pull yourself together, go to Boston, do what needs to be done and for Christ’s sake stay away from the Brownstone. Are you listening to me Carl?’
‘Yes.’ Tears coursed down both cheeks.
‘Right, I’ll get Sarah and the children to Ksar el-Zerhoun as soon as possible. They’ll be safe there.’ Jack checked the time. ‘The children will be on their way down now so … Carl, she can’t see you like this. Please, we can’t have …’
‘I said some terrible things to him just before he left and now I … I ah …’ Jack watched as Carl’s face contorted in an agony of regret; the same profound regret he felt after Yusuf Sarquazi’s death.
‘Carl, go into the bathroom and splash your face with cold water and pull yourself together. You’re no good to me or anyone like this. Go.’
‘He was like a son to me,’ Carl whispered in a voice choked with emotion.
‘Yeah, I know but right now you’ve got to be strong for everyone’s sake but most especially for Sarah. Go, now.’
Carl nodded his head then began to turn away. That was when he saw Sarah standing at the far end of the room in front of the door leading into the library.
‘You should have locked this door as well Carl,’ she said, her voice tinged with annoyance, ‘but then again you can’t can you because I know the code. Something has happened. What is it?’ Both men just stood, staring at her. ‘What is it?’ she shouted.
*****
Sarah sat on the edge of the leather sofa; the same sofa where Richard slept or tried to when exhaustion triumphed and the pain allowed. The same sofa he pressed her up against when he first kissed her an eternity ago.
‘It’s Alan isn’t it Jack; something’s happened to him.’
Jack nodded. ‘He was ah … he was murdered last night. I’m so very sorry.’
‘Murdered,’ she whispered, ‘are you sure? I mean maybe …’
‘The body was positively identified by a senior member of his staff.’ Jack cleared his throat. ‘There’s no doubt.’
That’s the easy part Jack. Now, how are you going to handle the “what happened” when she asked and you have to tell her just how he died?
‘Was he … was he stabbed or shot or … what happened?’
‘He was hit in the back of the head just as he was opening his car door. His keys were found dangling from the lock. Between the parking lot and the building there’s a mounded section of garden with shrubs and grass. That was where he was found by Security, lying face down sometime around ten p.m. He ah …his wallet was missing.’ That’s enough, leave it there Jack.
‘If this murderer or murderers took his wallet why didn’t they take the car as well?’ Sarah’s eyes were filled with tears as she scanned Jack’s face. ‘You’re not telling me the full story Jack.’
Jack had known Alan Rose for a very short period of time, but still … ‘Alan’s throat was cut,’ he whispered, registering the tragedy of it fully.
‘Oh God in heaven,’ Sarah cried.
He would be alive today if he hadn’t married her, Jack. You know that, don’t you?
*****
‘It’s your fault Sarah. If you hadn’t married him then ...’ Carl’s eyes were streaming tears and his whole body shook with the pain of Alan’s loss.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Tell her Jack,’ Carl shouted, ‘tell her how his throat was cut; use the same word – sacrificial. Yes, that’s the word isn’t it, sacrificial. Alan was in their way Sarah, but not anymore. Congratulations ma’am, you’re a widow again. I bet the Benghazi tribe is super pleased.’
Sarah jumped to her feet. ‘How dare you talk to me like that? How dare you suggest that … Is it my fault that Victor Yakinchuk was murdered too? Is that what you think Carl?’
She was furious but now was not the time, nor the place. ‘Mr. Mulphy, I will be in the Amber Room. Would you and Mr. Brosner join me there please as soon as possible.’ She offered Carl a withering glance that would melt wood then she left the room the way she had come.
Sarah, shouldn’t you be crying or something? Aren’t you expected to be in a state of shock or even disbelief? What do you feel?
‘Nothing.’
Why?
Because any loving regard she had for Alan Rose quickly evaporated almost before the ink on the wedding certificate had dried. It was as if he saw himself as Richard; Master of Cavendish Hall and everyone and everything in it but he lacked the essential élan to carry it off. He began to bully Sarah, criticizing everything she did while all the while showing little or no interest in what she was doing, thinking or saying. And all that talk