The Suffocating Sea

And Rowland, a man of the church, had lived with that past all those years. How could he have been such a hypocrite?

'I see you disapprove,' Warwick continued. 'Rowley thought God had punished him by taking Teresa and Claire from him. Rowley tried to atone for his sins for the rest of his life, by living like a pauper and devoting himself to God and his parishioners.'

'Until Brundall showed up on Tuesday wanting to confess,' Horton snapped, but his mind had picked up on something Warwick Hassingham had said. The four fishermen had killed Croxton, or whatever his real name was, and had claimed it was Warwick's body. Why? He'd been right about the diamonds but it wasn't smuggling. Warwick had said 'a diamond raid', which meant a robbery.

He had to get Warwick to tell him about it, not that it would do him much good if he was dead, but he was still alive and he would fight with all the strength and guile he had to keep it that way.

Warwick crossed the room and poured himself another drink. 'Unfortunately, Brundall had developed a conscience as well as cancer.'

'And that was when Sebastian came scurrying across to Cowes to meet up with you so that you could plan his death.'

'I told him to loosen the gas cooker pipe on his return and then later that evening throw a lighted match on to Brundall's boat.'

Horton dashed a glance at Janice. Her hands were in her lap and her body erect as she sat on the edge of the sofa. Her eyes followed her brother. Yet, Horton was curious, her expression had changed; she was no longer smiling and there was something sharp and dangerous behind her eyes.

Then Horton saw quite clearly what had happened. 'You've got that wrong,' he said with an edge of steel to his voice. 'You came back with Sebastian on his boat on Wednesday morning, only no one saw you. You stayed below whilst you went through the lock. Sebastian left for his office and then Tri Fare as he told us. You went to meet Tom Brundall. You loosened the gas cooker piper and then left, watching Nigel Sherbourne arrive. You guessed what Brundall was going to do, or maybe he told you. Here was a man who was dying; perhaps he didn't care if you killed him. Maybe he wanted you to kill him and by doing so we start an investigation and the truth comes out. That was Brundall's confession, only he couldn't have envisaged you'd kill Sherbourne.'

Horton could see that Hassingham didn't like this very much. Horton was very close to the truth. He risked another glance at Janice; she was so tense that Horton thought she might snap in half.

He paused. 'Later that evening you threw the match on to the boat and left Horsea Marina to come back here, but not on Sebastian's boat because it didn't leave the marina. How did you get here, and how did you get to Guernsey and back? Do you keep a boat in Cowes Marina or Yarmouth?'

Warwick said, 'Are you sure you don't want a drink, Andy?'

Horton flinched at the use of his name. His mind spun down the years when he'd heard this man speak to him. He felt physically sick. Warwick must have seen the torment in his eyes.

'You always were a bright kid, Andy. Bit of a pain in the arse sometimes, but I could always get rid of you with money to buy an ice cream or go to the pictures, whilst Jennifer and I…'

Horton leapt up and was halfway across the room before Muscles fell on him like a starving tiger and nearly ripped his arms from their sockets.

Warwick waited a moment, watching Horton's grimace of pain, before he said, 'Let him go.'

Horton collapsed on the floor trying to ease the pain in his arms and shoulders without betraying how much it hurt. His eyes flicked to Janice and what he saw shocked him. Quickly he looked away, not wishing to draw Hassingham's attention to his sister's expression of loathing. No, it was more than that. It was a fury that exceeded even his. Horton felt hope. But what chance would he and a middle-aged woman stand against Muscles and Warwick Hassingham? Warwick was older than Horton and not nearly as fit. Horton knew he'd get the better of him, but he doubted he'd stand a chance against the Jolly Green Giant.

Janice rose. 'I'm hungry. I'll make some sandwiches.'

'We haven't got much time. We'll be leaving in five minutes.'

'We can take some with us.'

As she left the room, Warwick said, 'It'll give the sad bitch something to do.'

'What are you going to do with her?'

'What do you think?'

'She's your sister, for God's sake.'

Warwick shrugged and Horton saw the evil that had driven this man to kill, cheat and lie. He shuddered to think what his mother had suffered at his hands, and prayed her death had been swift. He silently vowed that before he died he would make Warwick Hassingham pay in some way for what he had done.

Steeling himself to control his feelings, he said, 'So you all got rich on the proceeds of this diamond raid.'

'Yes. And we wouldn't have done if it hadn't been for Jennifer. I see that shocks you. Jennifer was very beautiful; she met Peter Croxton in the casino. He fell for her in a big way and couldn't resist a bit of pillow talk.'

'Which you encouraged,' Horton said with bitterness. Warwick wouldn't have let his mother live with that knowledge.

'He told her he was about to undertake the biggest diamond robbery in history and that he would buy her all the diamonds she wanted.'

'And she told you.' Horton drew himself up. He heard the implications of Warwick's words about his mother's sexual habits. Warwick Hassingham had been nothing more than a bloody pimp, using his mother's infatuation of him to extract valuable information from Croxton.

'Croxton was a con artist and a very good one. He'd already set up the false identity of James Rowthorpe. I simply took it over when he died. We were very alike and that's what gave me the idea in the first place, though it was Jennifer who first pointed out the likeness to me.'

Horton felt a pang of sympathy for his mother and he was shocked by the emotion. It was as if the picture of her he'd been looking at for years had suddenly and sharply come into focus. And it wasn't how he had imagined it. For once he put himself in her shoes and imagined her as a victim and not his cruel, heartless mother.

He said, 'So Croxton pulled off a big jewellery heist.'

'Hatton Garden. He got away with millions,' Warwick said boastfully, as though it had been his robbery. Horton saw that the temptation to tell him was too big to resist.

Warwick topped up his drink. 'He was an importer and exporter of diamonds so he knew his way around. He wasn't called Croxton there. He used a dual identity. Everyone at Hatton Garden knew him as Philip Crane. Then on the fifteenth of August 1977 he simply entered the vaults and emptied them, got away with diamonds, jewellery and cash worth over?1.5 million. No one noticed they'd gone until Monday morning; by then it was too late. Most of the people whose safety deposit boxes were stolen never came forward because they didn't want anyone to know what they had in them. They were either the proceeds of crime or tax evasion.'

It was clever and simple.

'Croxton drove down from London that night,' Warwick said. 'He'd hired a motorboat and arranged for Jennifer to meet him, only she didn't turn up. We did.'

Had his mother known what was going to happen? He didn't like to think so. That would make her an accessory to robbery and murder. How could he live with that if it came out? And it would. His mother's past would be emblazoned across every newspaper and television screen in the country when or if Warwick Hassingham came to trial. Even if his mother's part in this was innocent there would be enough mud thrown for it to stick. Horton saw slipping from him both his career and his daughter; the two things he valued above all else in the world, and he shuddered at the memory of being so utterly and completely alone once again. He wasn't sure he could bear it. But what could he do — kill this evil bastard sitting arrogantly before him, with that smug grin on his sharp pointed face and wickedness glowing from his green eyes? It went against everything he believed in and yet…