Creatures of the Chase - Yusuf. L. M. Ollie
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 I was when I realized that these terrorists were on their flight. The bodies were found stacked; the explosives they were carrying defused and resting on top of the bodies along with a couple of knives. I remember seeing the photos; it was bizarre. I called Liz and she confirmed that yes one of the toilets on her flight was out of order; in fact, the door was locked.’
‘Do you think Develin did it?’
‘I know he did. It was a “signature kill” you see.’
‘No, I don’t see.’
Munroe sighed. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t be telling you this but, hell the man’s dead so … Develin kills by first rendering the victim unconscious or at least stunned; I don’t know how. He’d finish them off with something like a knitting needle right through the brain. One look at the victim’s ears and you’d know plus they’re almost always bleeding from the nose. Sometimes there are traces of curare too.
‘That’s a signature kill which usually means he either didn’t have time to square it with the powers that be or he just thought it was a good idea.’ Munroe shrugged as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
‘I knew he was dead; all of us did. Vic, if it wasn’t for him, my kid sister and her friend and everyone on that flight might have died. With him gone there’s one less good guy out there quietly going about the job of ridding this world of evil.’
‘Maybe that’s true Stan but I also think that Richard Develin enjoyed killing.’
3
Yakinchuk sat in the far corner of the precinct’s canteen and waited for Maggie O’Shea. After everything he had learned about Richard Develin, he was uncertain if he was up to talking about family curses; especially the Develin family.
He thought of Sarah Churchill although of course after two back to back marriages she would technically be Sarah Churchill Develin Capritzo. What would she be like, he found himself wondering. Certainly she would be beautiful; that would be a given as would the likelihood that she would be young; probably twenty-five max. Maggie had already mentioned red hair and, judging from the photos he had seen, Develin liked and perhaps even preferred redheads. He remembered reading somewhere that Arab men also like redheads because they were considered exotic. He remembered too that most redheads have a fiery temper. ‘I wonder how Develin would have handled something like that.’
He looked up and smiled. ‘Hello Maggie, how are you?’
‘Oh busy, busy as always.’ She handed him several pieces of paper, carefully folded. ‘I will leave these for you to read later. I don’t want to talk about it so …’ She offered up an apologetic smile.
‘Have you ever been back to the old country Maggie?’
She took the seat opposite him. ‘No, I’ve never been back. I was born an O’Neill and the O’Neills are not welcome in that part of Ireland. My father shipped my sister and me to family here just after the war broke out and he said then, don’t ever come back and we haven’t, either of us.’
‘You mentioned your brother and sister. Do you know what happened to them?’
‘Aye, my father he rung the truth about what happened to my brother Drover and my sister Maureen from Charles Develin’s bodyguard just before he died.’ Maggie’s lips trembled and her eyes grew moist. ‘Not long after the knowing of it, my father died.’ She nodded towards the papers. ‘It’s all in there just as it happened.’
‘Thank you Maggie,’ Yakinchuk said as he reached across the table and enfolded her right hand in both of his.
She nodded, fighting back tears. ‘Well, I had best be off home.’ Slowly she rose from her seat.
Yakinchuk rose with her. ‘Maggie, Richard Develin left behind two young sons; William and Richard.’
‘Ah,’ she said sadly, ‘and their mother, her name is Sarah.’ She stared straight into his eyes. ‘And it’s curious you are about her, aye and it shows Victor. Already she has ensnared you. If you go to her you will never come back - never.’