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Now that the convict was unarmed, the rest of the men from the Star Elite broke their cover. They all began to converge on Sayers; their guns pointed in readiness in case the man did something unexpected.
“Sayers, you are going to prison for a very, very long time,” Marcus warned.
Strangely, Sayers began to smile, as though Marcus had said something incredibly funny. Marcus wondered if the man was in full possession of his faculties but, given that this was Sayers, the pseudo-mirth could very well be a ruse of some kind.
The same thought seemed to register on his colleagues because nobody stood down. They al
l continued to circle the unarmed man with their guns drawn.
“Well, I didn’t think the end of your cruel regime would be here and now, but life does have a way of serving justice to those who deserve it,” Marcus murmured thoughtfully. “Sayers, you are a crook and a scoundrel, but nobody is above the law.”
Sayers merely smiled and glanced up at Marcus with defiance in his hard gaze.
“You fool. You utter, complete, and total fool.” The man began to laugh.
“We will bring your empire down,” Marcus promised him.
“You don’t stand a chance, you fool,” the man replied. “You have not got a clue who you are fighting. Why, you don’t even know who I am.”
“I know who you are,” Marcus challenged.
The man began to laugh again. Marcus threw a look at Joe, who shrugged.
“You are wrong; so very wrong.” Sayers shook his head mockingly.
“Why?”
“It is not me. I am not Sayers. I told you earlier, but you didn’t believe me. It is the truth. You got the wrong man. Sayers is still in London, you fool,” the man laughed.
Aware of the stunned looks, the man took advantage of their brief moment of hesitation to draw a small, second gun out of his cloak pocket. Before anybody could pull their trigger, the man put the gun to his head. The gun was small, but the damage was eternal.
Marcus swore and watched the man’s lifeless body slump sideways face-first into the water.
“Who the hell is he then?” Barnaby growled after several moments of stunned silence.
Marcus sighed and tipped his head back to look at the sky. He didn’t know whether to take his hat off to the man, or howl with rage. The man knew that they had no idea of proving whether he was Sayers or not. Indeed, they may never know whether he was Sayers or not. Unfortunately, the Star Elite couldn’t end their investigation until they could be confident of the dead man’s identity.
“What do we do?” Joe asked. He removed the gun from the man’s limp hand and tucked it into his pocket, and then stood back to study the corpse. “How do we go about finding out who he is?”
“If it is Sayers, his empire will continue to rumble for a while. Then someone new will take over and make their identity known,” Barnaby warned.
“Or Sayers will be completely ignorant of what has gone on in Smothey, and will carry on as normal,” Marcus replied.
“We have the rest of the gang rounded up. If we put them somewhere nobody can find them; their contacts might never know what has happened,” Joe added.
Marcus nodded. “At some point, someone will appear to find out where they are.”
“Or another courier will turn up looking for their contact,” Joe added.
“We need someone who can take a sketch of this man’s face. Sayers’ father is in Newgate. We can take the picture to him and get him to confirm whether this man is his son or not,” Barnaby suggested.
“Is he going to be honest, though? Wouldn’t he lie to protect his son?” Marcus challenged. “I think it would be better to ask the rest of his gang we already have in custody. They may be willing to talk once they know he is dead, especially if the information they give buys them a lighter sentence.”
Kieran snorted. “What if he has lied to them as well?”
“What do you mean?” Marcus asked curiously.
“Sayers lies all the time about his true identity. What is to say that he hasn’t lied to his colleagues as well?” he explained.
