by Colin Forbes
`Course I did.'
`Actually I normally check too,' Lavinia said. 'That night Mrs Grandy was having trouble with a soufflé so I left her to check the door.'
`A soufflé?' Paula frowned. 'Surely that has to be made not long before serving?'
`Oho! We have a cooking expert!' Mrs Grandy sneered. 'I eats the same as my employers. Warner sees to that. So I'm hungry and feels just like a soufflé. First time it flops, so I start all over again. It was half-past eleven before I felt better after eating the second one. A bit tired by then, I was.'
`A member of the household told me when they came down here at 2 a.m. that door was open.'
No one asked Tweed which member of the household had told him, though it was a question he had expected. With Paula he walked over to the now partly open door. There was an ordinary lock and the door itself was made of ordinary wood. He had found the loophole in Hengistbury's security.
He opened it wide, walked out with Paula and Lavinia at his heels. There was a narrow path through grass backed up by the menacing walls of The Forest. Tweed asked where the path led to.
`To Snape's cottage,' Lavinia told him. Tut I'd better come with you. It's easy to lose your way.'
`Thank you, but not now. We have to visit the police in Gladworth to keep them quiet. So you didn't have any opportunity to check this door was locked on the night of the murder?'
`No. I'd been wading through a mass of accounts and I was very tired. When I heard Mrs Grandy was still in the kitchen I didn't want a row. A lapse on my part.'
`You can't be responsible for everything,' Tweed said with a smile. Now we really must get into Gladworth before that Inspector turns up here...'
At the bottom of the stairs Tweed and Paula met Sergeant Warden. He gestured to them to follow him onto the terrace.
`Thought I should tell you, sir, that soon after the two of you entered Leo's room I saw someone was listening outside the door. Looked as though they might have been there for some time.'
`Man or woman?' asked Tweed.
`Difficult to be sure. I think it was a man. I only saw a shadow. Then Chief Inspector called to me to help with the search. I'd been leaning over the banister on the upper floor. Not a good viewing point.'
`Who do you think it could have been?' Paula asked when Warden had left them, disappearing into the library.
`I haven't a clue. Place is crawling with people.'
They were nearly knocked down by Snape at the exit as he came rushing in from the terrace. He looked nervous as he apologized.
`So sorry. So much work to do and I'm behind schedule. I don't want Mr Marshal on my back.' He spoke over his shoulder as he hurried to the staircase.
They walked quickly down the steps and jumped into Newman's parked Mercedes. Their Audi was presumably round at the back of the house. Tweed inserted the key into the ignition — he had been handed it before Newman set off to explore the walls with Marler. He tightened his grip to turn the key.
16
Calouste had driven only a few miles down the road to the West Country when he pulled into a lay-by. Jacques stared at him.
`Something wrong?'
`Think like the enemy.'
`I don't understand.'
`You wouldn't,' Calouste sneered and turned to look at Jacques. This was something Jacques always disliked, was nervous about. Two large dark lenses gazed at him, eyeless. 'I have just changed my mind.'
`So what do we do now?' Jacques asked, mystified.
`If Tweed with his team, whom I've been informed left the manor, heading for Gladworth, has located Heather Cottage, he'll find no one there. So, his logical decision is to return to Hengistbury.'
What if he does?'
`You have used explosives. What did you put in the boot of this car?'
`A carrier of food and a flask of coffee. The bomb is in the leather hold-all I put on the floor behind us.'
`What!' Calouste screamed. We have been driving with a bomb barely a foot from us?You are stark raving mad!'
`Calm down,' Jacques replied. 'The bomb is not active. You could drive over a large ramp and nothing would happen. So put away that knife before I get annoyed.'
In his fury Calouste had produced a stiletto with a needle-like blade. It disappeared and Calouste was again in a good humour. He patted Jacques's substantial knee.
`Tell me, please, is this the kind of bomb you attach to a car?'
`It's exactly that.'
`I'm driving back to that roundabout which has many escape routes. You take the bomb with you. Tweed likes travelling in the Mercedes. You walk from the roundabout to Heather Cottage. Check to see if there are signs Tweed has been there. Pierre will have hidden, knowing him. Look at the map. See if the countryside opposite the cottage is level enough for you to borrow Pierre's motorcycle to take you across the fields to Hengistbury. I think you may find the Mercedes parked in front of the manor. Attach the bomb to it. You may have trouble crossing open ground.'
`No trouble. I have some overalls I'll wear. People at this time of day are rarely peering out of windows. So, if they are, they'll see a man like a mechanic in overalls. A mechanic.'
He was getting out of the car when they'd reached the roundabout. Calouste called out to him.
`How are you going to get over that high wall with—'
`You do your job, I'll do my friggin' job. You talk too much.'
Jacques was the only member of Calouste's large team of henchmen who, when provoked, would tell his boss to go to hell.
Jacques had approached Heather Cottage cautiously. He chose the same route Marler had taken earlier, moving behind the side hedge. There were no cars in the road. He found Pierre's body, concealed under the hedge. He was not sorry: in his opinion Pierre had been useless. But he was relieved when he saw Pierre's motorcycle still leaning against the wall.
He wasted no time. The leather hold-all containing the bomb, several wires to be fixed later, a long piece of rope with a hook at one end, were all carefully added to the pannier with the bomb. Finally a neatly folded white coat. He started the machine, headed across the road through a gap in the hedge.
The ground was perfect, rolling green hills covered with fresh grass. From the crest of an unusually high slope he saw the tops of the manor's Elizabethan chimneys, just in view over the 'barricade' of The Forest. He headed for them.
Leaving the motorcycle concealed in undergrowth, he pushed his way along the track where Harry Butler had waited for a signal from Tweed's lighter. Emerging, hold-all slung over his shoulder, he checked the windows of the manor with a compact pair of binoculars. No sign of anyone.
Carrying the long coil of rope, he walked quickly to where The Forest surrounding the manor masked him. Putting on his white coat, he slung the rope to the top of the wall. Its hook anchored in no time. Climbing the rope he took out a pair of clippers, cut a hole in the barbed wire.
Perched on top of the wall, he hauled up the rope, reversed the hook, dropped the rope down the inner side. He'd get out the same way he'd come in. Descending the rope, he walked confidently across the open space to the foot of the terrace. He was pleased earlier to have seen the empty Mercedes parked below the terrace.
A tarmacadam drive would have helped. On the side of the car facing away from the terrace he dropped to the drive coated with pebbles. His legs sprawled widely behind him as he eased under the car. The wires had already been attached. He heard the magnetic pad click as they clamped to the car. He turned a switch. The bomb was active. As soon as the ignition was turned on, the car and occupants would be blown to smithereens.
He had trouble easing his back from under the car, scattering a wide area of pebbles. He returned the way he had come. Settling himself in undergrowth in the track he waited. Jacques liked to see the results of his careful work.
Tweed and Paula walked down the steps, jumped into Newman's parked Mercedes.
`Stop! Don't start that car, for God's sake! Get out of the bloody thing now!'<
br />
Harry Butler's warning shout came loud and clear through Paula's open window. She stared at Tweed. `Do exactly as Harry says,' Tweed ordered her. `Should we take the key out of the ignition?'
`No! Touch nothing. Just get the hell out of the car.' They met Harry, who had run down the steps carry-
ing his tool bag. Paula, confused, asked, 'Why? What's wrong?'
`That's wrong.'
Harry pointed to the considerable disturbance of the pebbles on the far side of the car. She could almost imagine the shape of a man in the way they were scattered.
`Someone's been under the Merc,' Harry said. 'I noticed the pebbles all over the place from a first-floor window, saw you both about to get into the car, grabbed my bag and tore down the stairs...' He paused, breathless.
What now?' Tweed asked.
`You both go inside, to the very back of the hall. You stop anyone coming out onto the terrace while I check under the car. You don't come out until I've come back in. Something is terribly wrong. Go on into the house and stay there.'
`Be careful, Harry,' Paula said as they started up the steps.
`Careful is my second name,' he told her with a grin.
The last they saw of Harry as they looked back before entering the hall was of him sprawled flat, torch in one hand, pair of clippers in the other as he eased his plump body under the car.
They were waiting at the back of the hall when Lavinia appeared, a bundle of papers under her arm. She lifted her eyes to the ceiling.
`Marshal always wants everything done yesterday. I'm off to the dining room for some peace and quiet.'
She disappeared down a narrow corridor towards the kitchen. Tweed, worried, checked his watch, wondering how long Harry would take, whether he was in danger.
Fifteen minutes later Harry appeared at the entrance. He was carrying a metal box which must have been inside his hold-all. He beckoned to them. `OK now,' he said cheerfully. 'You can drive to Singapore if the mood takes you.'
Was there something?' Tweed asked.
`Only this,' he said after glancing round the terrace, which was empty.
Tweed and Paula peered inside the metal box. It contained a slim black box with a spray of cut wires. Paula guessed immediately.
`It's a bomb.'
`Give the lady the money! Very sophisticated version. You turn the ignition key — or extract it once inserted — and the Merc explodes, becomes scrap metal. It's totally deactivated now I'll dismantle it.'
`How on earth could someone get in to plant that?' Paula wondered.
`Sheer cheek and nerve,' Harry replied. `So much for security at Hengistbury. Enjoy your trip,' he concluded cheerfully.
17
Jacques, crouched in the brambles by the side of the track, was confused. He had been looking forward to seeing the Mercedes blown to smithereens. Perhaps even elevated a few feet before it crashed to earth, a fireball consuming the occupants.
Instead, his vision blurred, he saw activity. Reaching in his pocket for his binoculars, he dropped them. He could not find them in the tangle of brambles. He swore. What was happening?
A patient man, he waited for what seemed a long time. Then, to his astonishment, he saw the gates open. The Mercedes was proceeding down the drive. At the gateway it turned to his right, towards London.
Jacques was shattered. Was the bomb defective? No, that was impossible. He was an explosives expert. Carefully he began his retreat along the track. Getting into the saddle of the motorcycle he drove at high speed, bouncing over hill crests.
He would tell Calouste the truth. It was safer. He knew Max used to lie to conceal a failure. Now, he was sure, the durable, but too human, Max was dead. Arriving at the roundabout he found Calouste waiting in his car. Jacques eased the motorcycle in the boot, climbed into the front passenger seat beside him. Calouste again took the turning to the West Country.
`Tweed is dead,' Calouste hissed.
It was a statement, an expectation.
`No, he isn't,' Jacques said firmly. Tor some reason the bomb I placed under the car did not detonate. It was not a defective bomb—'
`What!' Calouste screamed. 'He must be. I want him dead, so you are wrong.'
`I'm afraid not. I caught a glimpse of him driving away to London. I—'
`It cannot be,' Calouste screamed again as he drove into the lay-by they had parked in earlier. He threw his door open, his stiletto in his hand. Jacques grasped the handle of his wide-bladed knife. Calouste jumped out, began circling the car with his ambling walk.
`Tweed must be dead!' he screeched. 'It was Tweed who told Bella not to sell the bank to me.'
`I thought Bella was murdered before Tweed went to Hengistbury,' Jacques unwisely replied through the half-open window.
`Tweed has a weak spot,' Calouste raved on. He was using his stiletto to stab at the air, at imaginary forms of Tweed. 'That tart he is always with, the one who did not come to meet Max in Mayfair.' He paused. 'At least that is what Max said.' He began dancing round again, stabbing at nothing with the stiletto. 'So,' he raved on, 'we kidnap her...'
`Then what do we do?' Jacques muttered, knowing Calouste was not listening to a word he was saying.
`We take her fingerprints on ten different cards,' Calouste screamed from the field of yellow rape he had dashed into, using his razor-sharp stiletto to cut the heads off the flowers.
Jacques sagged in his seat. He had never seen Calouste like this. His green eyes were glowing with hatred. Jacques did not know Calouste, ever cunning, was using green-tinted contact lenses.
`When we have her fingerprints we send one photo marked with a cross on her right index finger...'
`What for?' asked Jacques who had an idea of the answer.
`You are a butcher. You chop off the right index finger and we send it to Tweed through the post. To stop any further mutilation Tweed resigns from investigating the case, also resigns as Deputy Chief of the SIS,' Calouste screamed.
`Suppose he refuses?' Jacques yelled.
What was also getting on Jacques's normally ice-cold nerves was Calouste continuing to slash the heads of the rape as he continued his crazy dancing. Jacques had had enough. He shouted his question out of the window.
`What if Tweed still refuses your demands?'
`We continue to slice off parts of the girl's anatomy. That is, after we have sent photographs of her with the relevant sections marked with a cross.'
What was really disturbing was that Calouste's face appeared to have changed. His jaw was twisted to one side, which caused his mouth to twist into the most evil smile Jacques had ever seen.
Jacques determined to react. He made a show of glancing in the rear-view mirror, then shouted at the very top of his voice.
`I think I can hear a car approaching the crest of the road behind us. Sirens blaring.'
Calouste ran to his seat behind the steering wheel. The most extraordinary transformation had taken place. His face, only moments before the devil incarnate, was now quite normal. He glanced in the rear-view mirror, saw no sign of an approaching car. The stiletto had vanished. Reaching into his jacket pocket he brought out a long fat envelope, handed it to Jacques.
`I so appreciate your support that here is a little present. Inside you will find twenty thousand pounds in Swiss banknotes. Now we will drive on. To Seacove.'
18
There was a curious incident as Tweed drove cautiously along the winding road, away from Hengistbury, still under the forbidding canopy of dark fir trees. A Rolls-Royce crept round a bend ahead of them. Marshal was at the wheel. He honked his horn, pulled into the side of the road, waved a hand for them to stop. Tweed drew alongside, lowering his window as Marshal lowered his. Marshal was holding a mobile phone.
`Tweed,' he called out buoyantly, 'I've had a splendid idea. Follow me and I'll take you both down to Seacove, my hideaway in Cornwall. Very remote, and I'd love to show you my beautiful luxury yacht. Very advanced design,' he rambled on. 'Created by Shepherd, the mo
st unorthodox designer in the world. You could turn your car round at a gap in the hedge just beyond the bend behind me..
Before Tweed could reply, Marshal had pressed numbers on his mobile.
`Might be fun,' Paula whispered. 'And I think we ought to see the place. We could go to Dodd's End to see Mrs Carlyle tomorrow.'
As Tweed hesitated Marshal was talking loudly into his mobile. They could even hear the answers from the other end.
`That you, Lavinia? Good. I'm thinking of taking Tweed and Paula down to Seacove now. Where? Seacove.'
`Did you say you're taking Tweed and Paula down to Seacove?' she asked.
Not a good idea,' Warner's voice rumbled. He must have been standing close to her. 'It will be freezing today,' he continued.
Tweed started shaking his head but Marshal was so absorbed he never noticed.
`Mrs Grandy,' Lavinia's voice called out, 'there may be two less for lunch. Marshal is taking Tweed and Paula to Seacove. Yes, I said Seacove.'
Tweed at last caught Marshal's attention across the open windows. He had waved a hand up and down.
`We'd love to, Marshal, but another day, please. We've an appointment we can't miss in London!'
Marshal threw the mobile on the seat beside him. His face showed disappointment, then broke into an engaging smile.
`That's a date. Hope your trip is successful.'
`I'm sorry if you're disappointed,' Tweed said before he drove on, 'but I think we must interview Mrs Carlyle at once — what Crystal told us could have a bearing on the case.
`I have no idea where Dodd's End is,' Tweed said some time later, 'so it's a good idea you're navigating. It's quite a complex route when you reach Kent.'
`Don't worry,' Paula reassured him. A minute later she pointed to an ancient wooden signpost, the name just readable: Dodd's End. Tweed stared at what lay ahead up a small hill.
`It's this place?'
