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.
3
Six months after giving birth to her twin boys, Shahana Maya Mauphet Benghazi and her youngest brother Yusuf Hassan journeyed to Cavendish Hall in secret. Proof of paternity was not an issue as Charles Develin readily admitted forcing himself on the then sixteen year old girl. It was when Shahana Maya insisted that he divorce his wife and marry her that things began to seriously unravel. When he made it clear that Develin men do not divorce - they usually murder their wives - she became angry; threatening to expose him as a rapist and despoiler of women. This was too much, so Charles Develin shot them both through the back of the head. Then he began searching for the child not realizing then or ever that there were two of them.
All this happened in early spring 1932. By then Charles Develin was a committed Nazi with friends in high places. The files locked away in the vault at Cavendish Hall were for the most part correspondence between Develin and Hermann Wilhelm Göring, Paul Joseph Goebbels and Adolf Hitler. Charles Develin did not need a young Moroccan girl or her brother making waves.
No one in the Benghazi family knew what became of Shahana Maya or her brother Yusuf. Their uncle Omar Mauphet Benghazi took charge of the twin boys; sending the infant Yusuf Nessim to Italy to be raised by Maria and Giuseppe Sarquazi. Merhot met a similar fate in Switzerland with the Capritzo family. It wasn’t until the boys were twenty-five years of age that they were told the truth about each other and themselves. The boys were told that their mother had died in childbirth. Five years later Omar Benghazi died and Yusuf Nessim Sarquazi Mauphet Benghazi, age twenty-nine inherited everything including a half share in his brother’s business – the highly lucrative Brownstones.
*****
It was Carl Emery who told Sarquazi the truth about his mother and his uncle.
‘Your mother didn’t die in childbirth Sarquazi; your father murdered her. Your mother and your uncle died at Cavendish Hall and they are buried at Cavendish Hall.’
Yusuf Sarquazi was devastated by this news. ‘All my life I have dreamed that my mother would find me; that I would hear the sound of her voice, feel the touch of her hand. The truth, it is here in my head but my heart … my heart cannot accept it.’
Sarah put her hand on top of his. ‘Yusuf, Richard lost his mother when he was not yet nine years old. Until he was twenty-five he believed that she died from influenza but the truth was that Charles Develin, your father and his, murdered her because she was having an affair with another man. I think that, just like you, the truth was devastating for him.
‘I don’t know whether your prayers include remembrances of those who have gone before us but I would like to think that you could spare a thought for a half-brother you never knew who also suffered a life of loneliness, neglect and longing for something that could never be – a mother’s comfort and love. I know what I’m talking about Yusuf. I lost mine when I was sixteen and there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think of her.’
4
Richard Develin was in South America in late July, 1955 when the news reached him that his father and his wife Margarette were both dead. It took weeks to find him deep in the jungle on the River Negro which for a time borders Colombia and Venezuela. Develin was seeking a rare species of ant with venom which was not only powerful but medicinal. Already the Develin Research and Development Institute he established in Iquitos, Peru had isolated chemical compounds contained in the venom which were proving beneficial in treating various cancerous growths.
Richard Develin was told that his father had died in a hunting accident and that a week earlier Margarette had accidentally and drunkenly fallen down the central staircase at Cavendish Hall, breaking her neck in the process. The cause of death in both cases was of course, a lie.
Richard Develin’s marriage to Margarette Courtney was a disaster from the very beginning. With all the grace and charm of an alley cat Margarette made life a living hell for Richard so he was unashamedly relieved to know that he was rid of her, permanently. By the time he arrived back at Cavendish Hall Margarette had been mouldering for weeks in the Courtney family crypt near Dublin.
Just as well because Richard Develin would have disinterred her as he was about to disinter his father.
August 17th, 1955
Cavendish Hall, Southern Ireland
Develin stared past Liam McPherson to where Carl Emery stood, listening and watching silently. Develin’s normally pale complexion was flushed with anger. ‘I will have him, Carl. I promised that bastard that he would not rest beside my mother and I damn well meant it. Get the necessary tools together and meet me at the mausoleum.’
The exhumation of Charles Develin took longer than expected, since Develin had insisted that everything remained intact so that the opening could be resealed, the bronze plaque left seemingly undisturbed. Finally the coffin was pulled free of the vault and set on the floor. Develin stood and stared at it as Liam hurriedly repaired the damage.
The coffin was loaded onto the back of the flatbed lorry and taken to where they all knew the Moroccan girl and her brother had been buried years before. Richard Develin had disturbed the girl’s grave just a few weeks earlier to retrieve a gold bracelet given to her by Charles Develin. On that occasion Carl was so horrified by what Richard was planning to do that he refused point-blank to assist in any way.
Liam looked at Develin. ‘It will take some time to dig … ah, the coffin will…’
‘Four feet should do, Liam,’ Develin replied as he prepared to light a cigarette, cupping his hands to protect the flame from the wind. ‘When you get there, let me know.’
Liam looked across at Carl but Carl quickly turned away, concentrating instead on preparing to dig the grave in line but some twenty feet away from the others.
In forty minutes the job was done. ‘It’s ready,’ Carl announced, breathing hard as he handed the spade to Liam.
Develin turned and made his way across to where the coffin rested a few feet from the lip of the newly dug grave. In his hand was a hammer and with it he casually broke the seals around the lid before opening the coffin fully. ‘Carl, I need your help,’ he said, his voice totally devoid of emotion.
Between the two of them they managed to tip the coffin onto its side. Charles Develin’s body rolled into the hole, landing at the bottom face upwards. Develin stared down at his father for a moment before looking across