Chapter 11

Gavin approached the gates and took in the little intercom designed for visitors to state their business. He pressed the button and waited, looking up at the CCTV camera that was mounted on the wall above the intercom.

"Who are you and what do you want?" a voice asked.

"My name doesn't matter. I'm here to see Henry Sinclair. I have a message from his dead son," Gavin replied.

"He's expecting you," the voice advised.

Gavin considered that surprising statement, as the huge gates began to swing open. A long drive stretched out before him, lined on both sides by huge cypress trees. He began walking quickly towards the house, the phrase that the voice had used repeating inside his head.

"He's expecting you. He's expecting you. How can that be?"

It took a few minutes to reach the impressively solid doors of the mansion house and they opened as Gavin approached. What could only be described as a butler waited to greet him, dressed in the full gear.

"The Master is waiting for you in his study, Sir. If you would just follow me," the man said.

Still unsure about what was going on, Gavin decided to just go with the flow and he followed the butler's retreating back. He glanced round at the opulence and wealth on display in the entrance foyer. Immediately in front of him was a sweeping staircase that rose and then split left and right, as it gave entry to the upper floor. Gilt, crystal, antiques, artwork — it was all on display.

The butler headed to the right of the staircase, along a passageway. His footsteps on the wood floor echoed and then came to a stop.

"Mr MacSween, Sir," the butler announced as he opened a door.

Once again Gavin was thrown by the fact that his name was known. He stepped past the butler and found himself in another library, not dissimilar to the one he had seen earlier at Macheda Jerez-Gonzalez's house.

A middle-aged man rose from one of the leather chairs and scrutinised Gavin with piercing blue eyes. He was bald on top, with salt and pepper hair on the sides and back of his head. Half-spectacles perched on his nose, a sign that he had been reading perhaps and a book lay open on the table beside his chair. Gavin estimated he was over 6' in height and for someone in his forties or fifties; he still looked in good shape.

"You look slightly older than eighteen. I admit to being intrigued by you, Mr MacSween. That's perhaps the only reason I've decided to see you. Of course, you've already shown that you have your own ways of arranging meetings — whether a person wants to see you or not. Very resourceful I must say. Take a seat," the man said.

Gavin recognised Henry Sinclair from the many images he had come across on-line, so there was no need to confirm who the man was. He was still off-balance from being told that he was expected and the fact that Sinclair knew his name.

As he took one of the leather seats, he couldn't resist asking about that.

"How do you know my name? How could you possibly have been expecting me to come calling?"

"Oh it is good to hear a Scottish accent again," smiled Sinclair before continuing. "I know a lot about you, Gavin. Born in Glasgow. Mother raped and murdered. Adopted. Gifted student and athlete — swimming I believe. Strathclyde University — majoring in business. Already a millionaire through property speculation and recently relocated to the US with your mother, sister and a friend. You plan to finish your studies at Southern Utah University I believe?"

Gavin forced himself to show no expression, show no hint of the panic he was feeling. How could this man know so much about him?

"You've made a very promising start to business, if I may say so? That was a tidy profit you made on the apartments in Glasgow. Must be something about the Scottish blood, eh?" Sinclair chuckled.

"If you know all that, then I suppose you know why I'm here?" Gavin asked, stalling for time while he tried to get control of himself.

"Indeed. You're here to tell me that my son is dead and that his bastard son has been taken from his mother by Osvaldo Jerez-Gonzalez. I'm afraid you're wasting your time. I already know these things and couldn't care less," Sinclair said, still studying Gavin closely.

"You know your son is dead? Did you know that Osvaldo ordered his death?" Gavin asked.

"Oh, I know that. I keep a close eye on Osvaldo — I've learned it makes sense to do that. I also know that he ordered Johnny's death more than ten years ago, but that attempt was bungled. I know that you somehow managed to bypass Osvaldo's security and get in to speak to Rose Latour. I knew you were coming here because I know you also managed to get in and speak to Macheda Jerez-Gonzalez this evening. Unless I'm mistaken, you also rendered his personal security unconscious. As I say, very resourceful for an amateur. It wasn't difficult to guess that you would come here next."

Gavin couldn't believe what he was hearing. It was off-putting that Sinclair knew so much, but he especially couldn't get over the fact that he seemed to have known about Osvaldo ordering Johnny's death.

"You knew before Johnny was killed and you did nothing to stop it? What kind of father are you?" he asked.

Something flinty and hard flashed in Sinclair's eyes.

"I'd caution you to mind your manners, Mr MacSween. Johnny ceased to be my son the day and hour he decided to take that filthy Latour girl."

"What is it with your family and these others? Why the hatred?" Gavin asked, stunned by Sinclair's casual abandonment of his son.

"I doubt that you would understand," Sinclair replied dismissively.

"Is it connected to the Knights Templar?" Gavin asked.

He knew that shot in the dark had hit home by the change in Sinclair's expression.

"What do you know of the Order?" Sinclair asked.

"Only that it was the church's bank hundreds of years ago and that it was disbanded in the early 1300s. I read somewhere that some of them fled to Scotland and then some cock and bull story about the Templars funding your family on a voyage to discover the Americas."

Sinclair visibly relaxed, apparently relieved at the scant information that Gavin had. He could tell that it was no more than the information that was available on-line and therefore not dangerous.

"I might have to revise my opinion of you upwards a little, Gavin. You seem to be quite well-read for someone your age. But, as I said, you wouldn't understand the connections between the three families that you have recently been caught up with. Now, I believe your main concern is that Osvaldo has kidnapped your sister? What are you going to do about it?" Sinclair asked.

"I was hoping to persuade Macheda to have Osvaldo release her and Rose, but he applauds what his son has done. My next hope was to enlist your help in doing something," Gavin admitted.

"And if that fails?"

"If you can't help me, then I'll be forced to take Osvaldo on myself," said Gavin.

"Bravo! Well said young man. Stout and true, willing to do anything and everything for the sake of your family. That's a very honourable trait, so rare these days. If only my own son had more of that kind of fibre, he wouldn't be dead now," Sinclair declared.

"Can't the same accusation be directed at yourself?" Gavin asked. "Didn't you abandon your own flesh and blood."

"My own flesh and blood? Any man who covets what he can't have, any man who can stoop to rape to get it, is not a man at all in my eyes. Given your own early experiences, I would have thought that you would understand and agree with that sentiment. Isn't rape something that you abhor?" Sinclair asked angrily.

"Rape? What are you talking about, where does rape come into this?" Gavin asked, his confusion written on his face.

"Ah. I see that you don't know the full story of Johnny and Rose. You have been on a mission without being in full command of the facts, young man," Sinclair replied.

"Johnny knew that neither family would have sanctioned any kind of relationship between himself and Rose. He also knew that Rose would have nothing to do with him, so he waited his chance and then raped the Latour slut. As if that wasn't bad enough, he managed to get her pregnant with his own little bastard!"

Sinclair's voice had been steadily rising as his anger at what had happened seemed to be re-ignited.

"But that's not what happened," Gavin replied. "They loved each other, they ran away together. There was no rape and they were also married so there is no bastard."

"You don't know what you're talking about, boy!" Sinclair snapped.

"I can prove it," Gavin persisted.

"Son, don't make claims that you can't back up. I've played for high stakes with men far better than you — Presidents even."

Gavin glanced over at the computer that sat on Sinclair's desk.

"Is that thing linked to the internet?" he asked.

"Why?" asked Sinclair.

"I'll prove it," Gavin said simply.

A momentary look of doubt crept onto Sinclair's face and he glanced from Gavin to the computer almost as if he was suddenly scared. Finally he came to a decision and stood up. He walked behind the desk, before jabbing at the keyboard with one finger of each hand.

"Okay, prove it," said Sinclair.

Gavin sat at the desk and typed in the address to bring up Google. Once he had that, he entered a search to find the website for the County Court in Monroe. He remembered the pin number he had been given for access to the county records and within a few minutes he had Johnny and Rose's wedding license on the screen.

"There," Gavin said in triumph, pushing himself away from the desk.

Sinclair pushed the half-spectacles up his nose and bent to peer at the screen. The date of the marriage license was clear to see and Henry knew immediately that the wedding had taken place very soon after Johnny and Rose had disappeared. Gavin thought he could see the man's shoulders suddenly sag, as Henry saw with his own eyes the evidence that his son and Rose Latour had been married.

When Sinclair stood there was something unfathomable in his eyes. Gavin slid closer to the desk again and typed away until he had the copy of Donald's birth certificate on the screen.

"Your grandson," he said simply and made room for Sinclair to look at the screen again.

Sinclair was frozen like a statue, peering at the screen for some minutes before he spoke again.

"They gave him my name. Donald Henry Sinclair. They gave him my name."

This time when he straightened, Gavin thought the man had aged before his very eyes. Sinclair's skin had lost all colour and the look in his eyes was now one of sadness. Then something happened, Sinclair seemed to draw himself together and his jaw stiffened. He reached for the phone on the desk and jabbed at the numbers.

"Colin? Double the security on the Davidson house with immediate effect. No one allowed in and no one allowed out — including the family. Is that clear? Good!"

He dropped the phone back into its cradle and crossed to slump into his chair again. Gavin was unsure what had just happened, but he decided to remain quiet in the hope that Sinclair would fill in the gaps and hopefully help him get Fiona released. He got up and took his own chair, facing the older man. Once again he found himself coming under intense scrutiny and the hard look had returned to Sinclair's eyes.