Rodgers was fully aware that the woman was in shock, but he felt only excitement at the advances they’d made. The old adage that hell hath no fury like a woman scorned was giving them their biggest break to date.
They stopped for lunch, and the team assessed the information. They were worried that they might have lost the big fish as they had received no word from Interpol. As for the other stolen gems, Christina had no clue where they could be. Unknown to her, a search warrant had been issued. To the consternation of the new owner, an army of police officers had arrived to search the house and stables. The same scrutiny was also directed at Tony Driscoll’s property and James Wilcox’s house.
That evening the police gave a statement to the press saying they were now able to name Britain’s most wanted man as Edward de Jersey, also known as Philip Simmons. Additional warrants had been issued for the arrest of James Wilcox and Anthony Driscoll. The police said that both men were possibly residing in Spain.
On the following day, accompanied now by her solicitor, Christina began another lengthy session with the police. They asked detailed questions about her husband’s trips abroad. When they learned of the trip to Monaco, they looked again at the inquiry into the Hortensia Princess owned by Paul Dulay, who had been under surveillance for weeks. Until now they had had only his confirmation that he owned the Hortensia Princess and his explanation of the “drop” witnessed by the boys.
Dulay was arrested by the French police. At first he was adamant that he had had an innocent reason for being anchored off Brighton. However, they were now armed with the fact that de Jersey had been at the Brighton racecourse on the afternoon of the heist and that he had arrived there shortly after the eyewitnesses said they had seen the drop. Under pressure Dulay refused to answer questions without a solicitor.
Dulay’s shop and home were searched again, and under further questioning he began to break. His lawyers agreed to a deal if he gave information and admitted his part in the robbery. He took the police to the small cove and pointed out the bobbing lobster pot. The cove was jammed with sightseers and reporters as the launches set out to make the collection.
The crate was returned to the shore and taken to the local police station, where it was opened. In it they discovered all the stolen jewels, except for the fabulous Koh-i-noor Diamond.
Dulay was questioned round the clock and at last gave details about the sale of the diamond, and the Japanese buyer was traced. At first he refused to be interviewed, but then, on condition that there would be no repercussions, he admitted to having given a large down payment to Dulay for the diamond but said he had not yet received the stone. Dulay was questioned again, with the British police present, and admitted to paying Edward de Jersey half a million dollars in Paris; the rest he had kept for himself.
Now the police feared that the stone had already been broken up. They persisted in their interrogation until Dulay cracked. They could hardly believe it. The stone was hidden among pebbles by a waterfall in his garden.
When British officers reached the waterfall, they found a mermaid spouting a trickle of water from her outstretched hand. Beneath her tail fin, gleaming among the rockery stones, was the Koh-i-noor. As the water bounced off it, refracted rainbows danced in the sunlight.
In England the excitement of the jewels’ return was dying down, but reporters had given heroic stature to the men they believed were behind the theft. Edward de Jersey’s name was on most people’s lips. The police were sent on one wild-goose chase after another. Two weeks later there were no arrests except for that of Paul Dulay. He had spilled his guts, but it became clear that he had known only so much. He had never met Driscoll or Wilcox or any of the others involved in the heist, he maintained, but when he was shown the photograph of Edward de Jersey, he identified him as Philip Simmons. He remained in a French prison until he could be brought to England to stand trial.
After naming de Jersey as the main operator, Dulay was returned to his cell. He had not disclosed that he had met Anthony Driscoll many years before. The police still had no notion that Dulay, along with de Jersey and his team, had been behind the bullion robbery. Dulay asked for notepaper and a pen. Then he tore up his shirt and hanged himself in his cell. The note he left for Vibekka and the children asked them to forgive him. His death was a severe blow to the police. It was four weeks from the day of the robbery.
Chief Superintendent Rodgers insisted that he would not give up searching for the robbery suspects. He stated that he would arrest the culprits within the next few months. However, de Jersey’s trail had gone cold. A man on the run with nothing was easy to pick up. But de Jersey had more than enough money to buy a new identity, a new face if he so desired. Even with the efforts of the FBI and Interpol, they had no leads. He, like Wilcox and Driscoll, had disappeared.
The team of detectives decided to focus their search in Spain and try to pick up Wilcox and Driscoll. Armed with photographs of their suspects, plus a substantial reward for information, they headed off.
After days of interrogation Christina collapsed. She spent two days in a private clinic, and her father came to England to care for his granddaughters. At last she was given permission to return to Sweden with the girls. The Swedish authorities agreed to put surveillance on them all in case de Jersey made contact.
Christina had been in Sweden almost a week before she went to the bank. She had her own account there, with money left to her by her mother and some small items of jewelry in a deposit box. She wished to sell the jewelry as she had decided to remain in Sweden. She spoke briefly to the manager, who took her to the vault. She unlocked the box in private. In it she found a letter addressed to her. She knew from the writing on the envelope that it was from her husband. With shaking fingers she ripped it open and read the single sheet.
My Beloved,
By the time you read this, either I will be a man you despise intensely or you may have found it in your heart to forgive me. I had no option but to sell fast and make no indication to you of my intentions. I did not ever want to implicate or harm you and our children in any way. I love you as much now as I did when we were first married, and I love my daughters wholeheartedly too. I also respect you and know you will bring them up to be as beautiful and admirable as yourself.
I know you would never betray me, but to safeguard your life and ensure your future happiness, the best possible scenario is for me to disappear. I have made provision for you all. The keys enclosed belong to a lovely house I chose with you all in mind, as I knew you would return to Sweden. I will love you until the day I die, and I thank you for the most beautiful and perfect twenty years. God bless you.
She held the letter loosely, reading and rereading it as the tears welled in her eyes and dropped onto the page. The keys were attached to a small card with an address on it, and beneath that was a thick envelope with bank cards and accounts in the name of Christina Olefson, her maiden name. They contained one and a half million pounds. The house was valued at three quarters of a million.
Later that day Christina sat on the stripped-pine floors of her new home, staring out at the gardens. He had thought of everything, as always through their marriage. He had loved her, and she had not trusted him. He must have known she would not, and guilt now replaced the pain she had carried for weeks. But there were no more tears: she had wept too many. She got up and pressed her face against the cold windowpane. She drew a heart in the condensation on the glass, wrote her name and his, then slashed an arrow through it. She walked out of the room as the heart dripped tears. She knew now that their life together was truly over. She had loved him so much, perhaps too much, and it had made her blind. Christina would not have cared if they had been penniless, but he would have, and that was why he had jeopardized the happiness of his family.