The Savage Gorge is, sadly, Colin Forbes' last novel. He delivered the completed manuscript to his publishers at the end of July and three weeks later, on 23rd August 2006, he died. Simon & Schuster are honoured to publish The Savage Gorge in memory of Colin and his long, distinguished career as the author of 33 internationally bestselling thrillers.
THE SAVAGE GORGE
COLIN FORBES
Prologue
It started with the terrified scream of a frightened girl.
Tweed, ace detective at the Yard before he-accepted the post of Deputy Chief of the SIS, frowned as he sat behind his desk in his spacious first-floor office. He had just finished reading his instructions to an agent in Europe. The scream had broken his concentration.
'London gets rowdier day by day,' he grumbled.
The only two other occupants of the room were Monica, absorbed by her typing at her desk behind the closed door, and Tweed's second-in-command, Paula Grey, who had stood up from her desk to peer down through an open window into Park Crescent. It was a glorious May day. The sun shone out of a duck-egg-blue sky.
Paula, in her thirties, had thick glossy hair falling almost to her shoulders. Her features were well-shaped: a high forehead, neat eyebrows above alert blue-grey eyes, a strong nose with a firm mouth and determined chin.
The girl who had screamed was hurrying towards Their entrance. Frequently she glanced back over her shoulder. No one else about. It was that brief period when commuters had arrived at work and the shoppers were not yet out and about.
'I think she's coming here,' Paula reported.
'Who is? ' growled Tweed.
'The girl who screamed.5
'Well, we can do without her.'
The phone rang. Monica, in late middle-age, hair tied in a bun, Tweed's loyal secretary for many years, also acted as switchboard operator. She picked up the phone, listened, stared at Tweed.
'George' she said} referring to the ex-army guard in the hall, 'says a Miss Usa Clancy needs to see you urgently . . .'
'Well,' Tweed said decisively, 'I don't want to see her. So get George to send her on her way. '
Monica, looking puzzled, resumed her conversation, which seemed to stretch out. Paula walked across to her. With a thankful expression Monica handed her the phone. Paula's conversation was brief. Cupping her hand over the phone, she stared at Tweed.
'You will see her. She was recommended to contact you by her friend Crystal Main, chief accountant of the Main Chance Bank.'
'Then I haven't much choice, have I? Wheel her up. '
Swiftly he packed the ten red folders answering queries from ten agents in Europe into a large metal box, locked it, put his key in a bottom drawer, which he also locked. He called across to Monica.
'Since the rest of our team is out checking different areas in London, call Communications to send two guards to collect this,5 Communications was in a separate house further along the Crescent; its sophisticated aerials were disguised as TV masts. 'When they arrive, ' Tweed added, 'tell them everything is for immediate transmission after coding.'
Paula returned to her distant corner desk, where she could get a good view of the unwanted visitor. She checked on Tweed. She saw a well-built man of medium height, middle-aged but these days he was looking younger. He had neatly brushed thick dark hair3 an unlined forehead, large blue eyes which missed nothing, a long nose above a wide strong mouth and a firm jaw. He could change his expression from aggression to amiability in a split second. Despite his earlier mood he now looked relaxed.
The door opened after a discreet tap. George ushered in an attractive blonde in her late thirties. Expensively dressed, she wore a short white pleated skirt, a stylish leather jacket, a tasteful cravat round her long neck.
'Miss Lisa Clancy.' George introduced her and
withdrew.
'Welcome, ' Tweed stood up. The visitor hastily
removed a silk glove to grasp his outstretched hand gently, 'Do sit down.' Tweed urged, indicating the carver chair in front of his desk. 'May I ask your name?' he enquired, settling back in his chair. George had only mumbled it.
'I am ... Lisa . . . Clancy. Miss.'
She kept swallowing. Although she had a soft pleasant voice, she appeared to have difficulty in speaking. She crossed her legs, then recrossed them. Her small shapely hands kept twisting her glove. Her large blue eyes flickered round the office.
A bundle of nerves, thought Paula, who was studying her discreetly.
Monica stood up, went to her side, smiling. 'Would you like a cup of coffee?'
Thank you. If... it's not. . . too much bother.'
'No bother at all.' Monica assured her cheerfully, 'Milk? Do you take sugar?'
'Just black ... It is ... so kind of you.'
'Back in a minute.' Monica said with another smile and left the room.
Miss Clancy began to tremble. She clasped both hands tightly over the glove. Her shoulders began shaking. Pursing her lips tightly, she sat up very straight, pressed her back against the chairs uncrossed her legs and sat with her knees close together. An atmosphere of fear began to emanate from their visitor.
Paula was waiting for Tweed to cut the interview short, to get her out of the building. Women all over London were complaining of being stalked. A minority
were disappointed when no man took any notice of them. Now the sensation of fear percolating through their office changed Tweed's approach.
I need a few facts.' he suggested pleasantly. 'Were you stalked when you came here?'
'Yes, I was. '
No, you weren't, Paula said to herself, I'd have seen anyone when I watched you coming round the Crescent, but she changed her mind as Lisa Clancy explained.
'He - or she - disappeared into the shrubbery on the other side of the main road. They were watching me through binoculars -1 saw the sunlight flashing off the lenses. I think they checked your name plate on the wall to see where I was going. The General and Cumbria Assurance Company.'
She had quoted the cover name for the SIS. Typically, her friend Crystal Main had omitted to mention the SIS.
'He or she? They?' Tweed said immediately. 'Do you mean there are two of them stalking you? One man, one woman? '
Lisa was thanking Monica3 who had arrived with a steaming cup of black coffee. She took a sip, then replied, 'Sometimes it's a hunchback with long greasy hair carrying a big executive case. Then he disappears into an alley. A few minutes later it's a woman wearing a long black dress with a veil covering her face. '
'I see,' said Tweed, who didn't. 'How long has this been going on?'
'Five days. This is the fifth day.'
'Have you any enemies? Say a boyfriend you've dropped and who's furious with you?'
In the last few moments, Paula noticed Lisa appeared to have gained control over herself, was speaking normally without choking out the words. That changed.
'Do you live and work in London?' Tweed asked her suddenly.
'Yes. I'm training to be ... an accountant. .. with Rumble, Crowther and Nicholas. Their offices ... are only a short walk from where I'm renting a nice house. I'm quite well off. In a street leading off Bexford Street... a side street with another . . . side street. I feel so guilty.'
'Guilty? About what?'
'Taking up ... so much of your time. Could you escort me home? I couldn't stand ,., being ,. . stalked again. I know I shouldn't ask you to do this for me.'
'Yes, of course we'll see you safely back. Ready now? '
It was her emphasis on the word 'guilty' which alerted Tweed as it had Paula. Guilty of what? The reason Lisa had given was not convincing. Paula checked her Browning .32 automatic which was tucked inside a holster strapped to her lower left leg and was escorting Lisa down the sta
irs with Tweed behind her when Harry Butler, the toughest and cleverest member of Tweed's team, came into the office. Tweed called down to the two women.
'Wait in the hall for me. Only be a moment.'
He followed Harry into his office, closed the door carefully, gave him his instructions. He described the strange characters Lisa had alleged had stalked her, told Harry to collect his car from the park at the back of the building.
'Sounds crazy,' Harry agreed, "but I’ll be not far behind your Audi, You won't see me.'
'The target never does when you are following him .'
When Paula opened a rear door of the Audi she expected Lisa to sit on the pavement side. But no, she dived across and chose the seat overlooking the street. Paula sat beside her as Tweed took the wheel. Bexford Street? It was curious that Lisa lived in a rented house quite close to the stately terraced house he had purchased just before the property boom.
'It's the next side street,' Lisa called out as they passed Tweed's home. They turned, drove down a narrower deserted side street. "Then,' she continued, 'you turn left and my place is the first on the left round the corner.' ghastly shock awaiting him.
Guilty? The word kept reverberating through Tweed's head. He was totally unprepared for the ghastly shock awaiting him.
ONE
Police tape was strung across the entrance to the house on the corner, before Tweed turned into the next quiet street, the house next to Lisa's round the corner. He was driving slowly, pulled in next to the tape. As he alighted, telling his passengers to wait in the car, Paula glanced at Lisa. She was staring fixedly at the street on her side.
Tweed crouched down by the body spread out down the steps. It had been covered with a bedsheet but no policeman was on guard. Slipping on latex gloves, he lifted the sheet at the top, sucked in his breath.
Not a pleasant sight. It was the body of a well-dressed woman in her late thirties or early forties. He lifted an arm. Rigor mortis had come and gone -which meant she had been lying there for hours. Probably murdered during the night.
Her slender throat had been slashed open from ear to ear. Tweed felt real horror seeing what had once been a handsome face. Past tense. Her forehead cheeks, nose and chin had been gutted with some strange instrument; a series of deep squiggles had rendered her, he felt sure, unrecognizable. Such brutal butchery he had not experienced before.
I’ve never seen anything as hideous as this.' Paula's calm voice said over his shoulder, 'Don’t worry – I’ve left Lisa in the car3 locked all the doors.'
He replaced the sheet over the horrific face, walked down the steps, continued round the corner to Lisa's house. No police tape there. But the house beyond did have more police tape - and another body sprawled down the steps, also covered with a sheet. No police guard.
Climbing the steps, still wearing the latex gloves, he lifted the sheet. Like the previous corpse it was a woman, of a similar age, with fairish hair and was expensively dressed. Her face had been ruined with a similar weird instrument - or the same one. Deep squiggles of flesh had been torn open, were coated with dried blood. Her throat was slashed from ear to ear. Tweed lifted an arm. No rigor mortis. This body had also lain here for hours.
The door to the house was jerked open, slammed back. A figure stood in the doorway in a police uniform. It was a tall overweight officer, his peaked cap on his head above cunning eyes glaring viciously at Tweed, Chief Inspector Reedbeck.
'Heavens!' whispered Paula. 'Old Roadblock. 'Her nickname for the most incompetent police officer Tweed had ever met.
'What are you doing messing about here?' the officer demanded snidely. 'Commander Buchanan has placed me in sole charge of this murder investigation. And already I have the killer locked up in our new Pine Street police station just down the road.'
'Chief Inspector Roadblock.' Tweed started again: Paula had thumped him in the ribs. 'Chief Inspector Reedbeck,' he began grimly, 'how long have the two bodies been lying on their doorsteps? And surely you're not alone?'
'Of course not,' Reedbeck snapped. 'I have Sergeant Peabody and Constable Brown with me.'
'Then why aren't they here guarding the bodies? And how long have you been here? Why hasn't the pathologist arrived? '
'Because -' Reedbeck had folded his arms, his expression distinctly smug - 'Peabody and Brown are inside the houses trying to establish the victims' identities. Nothing in their handbags . . .'
'Both men should be outside guarding the bodies. You could deal with searching the houses.'
'I don't need any lessons from you, Tweed. And I've been here two hours, I'm waiting for the pathologist I phoned almost that long ago. Professor Arpfels.'
'Why not Professor Saafeld? He'd have been here ages ago and the bodies would be in his mortuary.'
'Your pet pathologist.' Reedbeck sneered.
'Who happens to be the top pathologist in the country. Arpfels is useless. And what is this about your having a serial killer at Pine Street? What is his name -and what evidence have you to charge him with this beastly crime? '
'Well, even you know that. A murderer often returns to the scene of his crime. I spotted this joker stopping, looking at the body here, then going round the corner and stopping again to stare at the other corpse, I dashed out and nabbed him.'
'He went under the police tapes and examined the faces?'
'Well, no he didn't.' Reedbeck was losing some of his arrogant self-confidence. 'He refused to give his name, refused to say one word to me or at the police station. I had him searcheds but he'd nothing on him to say who he was. Don't you find that significant?'
'Maybe you didn't search him thoroughly.' Tweed raised his voice. *I think you're disgraceful - leaving two corpses out in the open without guards. The Yard could well do without you.'
Tweed returned to his Audi, parked round the corner. Paula had run ahead of him. Behind him he heard Reedbeck's barking yell.
I’ll remind you I’m in sole charge of this murder investigation.'
Paula had unlocked the Audi and Lisa dived out onto the pavement, started running towards Tweed. She stopped briefly, tucked a card in his top pocket. Her face was ashen but she managed something of a smile.
'I'm going to lock myself in my house, try and eat some breakfast. Thank you so much for your help . . .'
As she disappeared round the corner he heard Reedbeck bellowing. His manner was back to bullying.
'You're confined to your house. Miss Clancy. I'll be round later for a thorough interrogation.'
Tweed sat in his car behind the wheel. He made no attempt to start the engine. He was reading the printed card Lisa had given him. Her address was 77 Lynton Avenue, He turned the card over. She had written on the back: Will wait here until you or Paula call me. Lisa.
'And now,' Tweed said to Paula fiercely, 'if you'll loan me your mobile, I'm going to set in motion a volcanic eruption.'
Tweed pressed the buttons for Commander Buchanan's private number at the Yard, was relieved when Buchanan himself answered. Seated beside him, Paula clearly heard every word Buchanan used in reply. He was livid.
I’ll flay that Reedbeck alive. Leaving two bodies unguarded in the street! It's a scandal. I sent him out there well over two hours ago, when the woman called to tell me about the bodies . . . No, she didn't leave a name. Sounded well spoken, rang off when I asked her for a name.'
'Why send a man like Reedbeck?' Tweed broke in.
'Shortage of staff. Only man available. Tweed, I know I've asked you for too much help over the past year . . .'
Tweed sighed. 'But you want me to involve myself in the case?'
'I want you to assume complete charge of the investigation.' Buchanan paused. 'I have to ask you to take on Reedbeck as your assistant. Working completely under your command. That I'll make bloody clear to him.'
'Why?' snapped Tweed,
'He has influence, which is why I was forced to agree to his working at the Yard. He was an inspector at a local police station in Hobartshire.'<
br />
'Hobartshire? I've just about heard of it. Where is it? '
Paula already had unfolded her map of Great Britain. She was pointing with an elegant finger. She nodded,
'It's all right, Roy,' Tweed said, 'Paula has located it.'
'It's in the middle of nowhere, the whole country/ Buchanan went on. I know your history is good, Remember centuries ago a few MPs had pocket boroughs they ruled like little kings? Hobartshire is still like that, controlled by a Lord Bullerton, who is a pal of Reedbeck's. Bullerton also dines with Reedbeck at his country house. Hence the manipulation of Reedbeck into my lap plus promotion to chief inspector. As Commander of the Anti-Terrorist Squad I can't waste time fighting them.'
'I'll take over the complete investigation. Hammer that into Reedbeck's thick head,' Tweed said grimly. 'Now I'm contacting Professor Saafeld. He'll be over here in fifteen minutes with his special vehicle. Tell Reedbeck that. Next we're off to Pine Street police station to find out just who Reedbeck has locked up on no evidence at all. You can reach me on Paula's mobile. You have the number. She's by my side. Goodbye . . .'
He called and explained the situation to Professor Saafeld. The pathologist confirmed he should arrive inside ten minutes, using his sirens.
'You may meet opposition at Pine Street,' Paula warned.
The Savage Gorge Page 1
