So that was it. He might have known. His stomach knotted with tension but he took pains not to show it or let it come through in his voice as he said, ‘You mean the one of him receiving the Queen’s Medal for Gallantry with his wife wearing a brooch. No, have you?’
‘No.’
Horton believed him otherwise why else would Sawyer be here? And if Sawyer, with all his resources, couldn’t locate a copy of that photograph then he certainly wouldn’t be able to. But did Sawyer know where the brooch had come from? Had he or his team identified its origins? If so would he tell him? Only if he wanted something in exchange. The Sawyers of the world did nothing for nothing.
Making an effort to keep his tone conversational, Horton said, ‘Adrian Stanley’s son, Robin, doesn’t remember his mother wearing the brooch, but then you know that.’ Sawyer must have questioned him, as Horton had done.
‘Do you remember it?’ asked Sawyer
‘No.’ He wasn’t sure if Sawyer believed him. That was his problem. Unable though to resist following this up, and unable this time to keep the bitterness from his voice, Horton added, ‘And as all the photographs of me and my mother have been destroyed we won’t be able to check.’ And perhaps that was why their council flat had been emptied so quickly and so thoroughly after Jennifer’s disappearance leaving Horton with only a few toy cars and clothes to take with him to the children’s homes.
‘Why is the brooch so significant?’ he asked, curious despite his misgivings, wondering if Sawyer would tell him.
‘Do you mind if I sit down?’
Horton did, very much, but it seemed it was the only way he was going to get more information out of the man. He nodded.
Sawyer slid onto the seat behind the table. Horton remained standing with his back to the galley. He heard the sound of a car pulling away and the engine of a small boat somewhere in the harbour.
Sawyer began. ‘We believe it to be part of a private collection of historically significant and extremely valuable jewellery stolen from a house in north Hampshire in 1977, along with a collection of artefacts including Saxon jewellery. None of it has ever re-surfaced and the criminals have never been apprehended. Intelligence leads us to believe that the criminal gang behind that raid and many others over the years, including one of the biggest heists in London, netting jewellery worth forty million pounds two years ago, and across Europe, is transnational, responsible for more than a hundred and thirty robberies, with the value of stolen jewellery estimated at well over four hundred million pounds. We believe Zeus could head it up.’
The mastermind criminal that Sawyer and the Intelligence Directorate believed his mother had known and had possibly run off with. Horton recalled the conversation he’d had with Eames after they’d interviewed Patricia Harlow. Eames had said she’d been working on analysing major jewellery robberies across Europe, trying to establish if the proceeds of the robberies were being used to fund criminal activity.
‘Are Marty Stapleton’s robberies between 1997 and 1999 connected with Zeus?’ he asked.
‘Possibly.’
And was that the real reason why Sawyer had been so keen to pursue Woodley’s murder? Sawyer thought it might lead him, via Stapleton, to a connection with Zeus. Did that mean Eames knew about his mother? If so, how much did she know? He turned away in case his anxiety registered on his expression. Opening the fridge he took out a Coke. He didn’t offer Sawyer a drink.
Sawyer continued, ‘We thought we might have caught one of the gang members in Stockholm four months ago but sadly he died before he could tell us more.’
‘How?’ Horton turned back.
‘He was allergic to aspirin, something that wasn’t discovered until after his death.’
‘Suicide or murder?’
Sawyer lifted one elegant shoulder in answer.
‘And that’s the closest you’ve got to Zeus, one possible member of his gang apprehended in Stockholm?’ Horton scoffed.
‘He’s a very clever man. And a ruthless one. His crimes don’t start or stop at robberies.’
Horton didn’t need Sawyer to spell it out for him; the robberies funded more criminal activity, such as trafficking drugs, people and art, blackmail, extortion, murder, you name it Zeus and his operatives probably did it. The timing of Eames’s being put to work on the robberies obviously coincided with the death of this possible gang member in Stockholm, so Interpol and hence Europol must have got some new evidence as a result of it.
Abruptly he said, ‘If Jennifer was Zeus’s lover she must be dead.’
‘You could agree to have your DNA run through the database.’
‘And discover if she ended up in the morgue.’ He’d already considered this many times.
‘It would rule out one possibility.’
Horton felt a coldness strike him. He knew what the smooth-speaking bastard meant and it didn’t have anything to do with his mother’s death. Sawyer believed he was Zeus’s son. And with his DNA on record they could match it against anyone they even remotely suspected of being Zeus. Horton said nothing.
‘Do you remember Jennifer talking about any one man more than the others; or someone who called on her or she met or who took you out?’
I wouldn’t tell you if I did. He shook his head, not trusting himself to speak.
‘And you can’t recall the brooch.’
‘No.’ He wanted Sawyer out of here and Sawyer could see it. ‘Very well.’ He rose but didn’t make any attempt to leave. ‘We believe that someone connected with Zeus will try to make contact with you.’
Horton’s heart stalled. ‘Who?’
‘We don’t know, but it must be obvious to you that your actions over the last few months have been noticed.’
Horton took a breath. He knew that. He also suspected that Sawyer had more intelligence than he was prepared to reveal. But whether that was to protect him or to expose him to Zeus, or one of his operatives, to see where it led he didn’t know. Or perhaps he did. In Sawyer’s terms he would be expendable if it got him Zeus. And Horton wondered if the real reason Eames was working with him was to see who made contact? But she couldn’t be with him twenty-four hours a day, unless Sawyer had hoped he’d fancy her and ask her to stay with him. It was a good plan and it might have worked. He felt anger and regret.
Sawyer said, ‘We don’t believe you’re in imminent danger because Zeus needs to know who you are and how much you know first.’
Horton heard the unspoken words: in case you are his son. And if you’re not then he will kill you.
‘I’m asking you once again to cooperate, Inspector. I can’t order you to but it’s vital that Zeus is traced and caught and as a police officer you will know that. The offer of acting DCI on secondment to the Intelligence Directorate is still open.’
‘I’ll think about it.’
‘Don’t take too long.’ He didn’t need to add, or it might be too late.
Horton watched him leave; his body was so taut it hurt. Sawyer turned into the car park above the marina where he halted and looked down at him, his expression inscrutable. Then he disappeared from sight, confirming to Horton that his car had been parked outside the marina.
He went below where he sank a glass of water in one go trying to release the knot of tension gripping his gut. The boat felt soiled as though his mother’s presence and all the pain of his childhood had infected it. Sawyer had done that. It would never be the same again. He glared around the cabin that just over twelve hours ago he had been pleased with and now he hated it. He could smell the betrayal, the corruption. It seeped into his pores. It filled his mouth with bile. For years he had hated his mother for what she had done to him, now he hated her even more and along with her he hated that smug bastard Sawyer.
He couldn’t stay here. He couldn’t eat or rest.