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“So they kept her to counterfeit money for them?” Layman prompted.

James rubbed his face. “Yes, only they had to source the right paper and ink, and while they did that, she pretended that some client outlines her father was working on for his legitimate business, written in the same code he used for all his confidential notes, were instead heist plans her father had made with Boscoe, should they ever find the right team.”

“And she fed those to the gang?” Layman leaned forward, suddenly completely engaged.

“She made out she was reluctant to do it, but they threatened to harm Jerry Stanford if she didn’t, so she pretended to begrudgingly give them details. Some details she took from her own life—her apprenticeship with Garelli and his connection to his wife’s family’s business, initially—and then she began drawing on conversations her father had around the dinner table. A game her father and Stephen Boscoe apparently liked to play, of heists they’d think about pulling off if they had an unlimited budget and a top tier crew.” James saw Layman’s expression and gave a nod and a reluctant grin. “Yes, an interesting topic for dinner time discussion, but Sarah said she thought it was her father’s way of getting the ghosts of his past out of his system. His way to play the game without actually doing anything illegal.”

“Do you believe her?” Layman asked.

James shrugged. “I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter. Harry didn’t carry out any of those heists, whether he planned to, or not.”

Layman leaned back. “Fair enough.”

“Anyway, the interesting thing from our perspective is that she began to play Jackman and Robby off against each other, making out like Jackman was planning to do some of the heists without Robby and Pete.” James had spoken to Jerry, as well, and he corroborated that Sarah Bicton had manipulated the men as much as she could. He had to admire her instincts.

“You think we can use it to get Robby to crack and give up Jackman’s residence?” Layman got to his feet.

“It’s worth a try,” James said, also forcing himself to stand.

“Tomorrow.” Layman yawned. “Let them stew for the night in a cell. Jackman might run, but I’ve got all ports and airports looking for him, and I don’t know about you, but I’m done.”

James gave a nod, and headed for the door.

“Archer.”

He stopped and turned to Layman, who was busy pulling on his coat.

“You’re a good detective. It’s been a pleasure working with you.”

“The feeling’s mutual,” James said.

It wasn’t done yet, but they were close.

And he could finally go home to Gabriella.

Sarah quietly climbed the stairs to her father’s office in the dark.

She’d left the hotel the police had put her up in by the back way, and walked to her father’s office on foot.

It had only taken her thirty minutes, and she’d been careful to wind a scarf over her lower face and keep her umbrella low.

She knew that Jackman, Robby and Pete had already been here, and the police had too, no doubt.

What she needed to know was who had found what.

She had asked to be taken home to grab some clothes, and a WPC had accompanied her to her room to pick up her things, including her handbag. Which had all her keys in it.

She unlocked the door, moving the police tape aside, and slipped in, locking the door behind her.

She pulled out the slim but powerful torch she always carried in her handbag, and went straight to the safe.

She knew Jackman had found it, because he had the plates and the notes, but she just wanted to check it out.

The false back was in place, and she had to admit it was very difficult to tell it was a false back. She used a key on her keyring to press in the indentation on one side of the safe that released the catch, and she opened the back up to see what was there.

Everything that should be, it looked like.

Satisfied, she closed it up and left everything as it was. If it hadn’t already been found, it wasn’t likely to be.