Blood Storm

31

Tweed drove back with Paula to her apartment. He had told her he would sleep on her sofa in her living room and, relieved, she had thanked him. Both were suffering a reaction but there was something else that had to be done. To safeguard her, Tweed took Paula with him.

Arriving back at her place, they both wore gloves before climbing into the Ford that Fitch had left parked behind the house. Luckily Fitch had left the ignition key on the front seat, ready to come back and make a quick getaway. Again, luckily, on first leaving the warehouse, they had found the ignition key to Tweed's car left in the same place. Fitch had not wanted to waste any time at either end.

Tweed drove Fitch's car while Paula drove his, keeping close behind him. Tweed found a deserted side street in the East End, left the Ford there, moved behind the wheel of his own car and drove it back to the concealed area behind her flat. Earlier they had freed each other from the handcuffs.

After all this they were very tired. Tweed had a brief snack Paula prepared him before she went to her bedroom. She should sleep like a babe, he felt sure as he perched on the sofa with coffee, his Walther on the cushion by his side.

Any fear that he might drop off to sleep disappeared as he took out his cartridge-paper notebook. In it he listed every single person connected with the murder case – and anyone else who had been involved in their enquiries.

It was a murky dawn when Paula, to his surprise, came in fully dressed.

'Didn't expect you for ages,' he greeted her.

'Had a strange dream. Don't know why. I was alone in the office when the door opened. A man came in, gripped a meat cleaver. As he came towards me I was scared stiff. His weird eyes staring at me through those weird glasses. I tried to scream and nothing came out. Then I woke up.'

'Who was it?'

'Benton Macomber. In those funny glasses.'

Tweed did not have to check his list to know that among his long list of suspects was Benton Macomber. He told her dreams were a poor substitute for fact and she agreed. Then she said she'd made breakfast because afterwards she was going off to see someone.

'Who might that be? It will be very early.'

'Coral Flenton. I know she gets up at unearthly early hours. I'll probably be just in time to share a cup of coffee with her.'

Later Tweed drove Paula down to Covent Garden so she could see Coral. He was careful to park in a slot before he reached her flat entrance, but at a point where he could see it. Paula had entered the place a few minutes before Tweed saw someone.

The Parrot, wearing a long coat with her hair obscured by a wide-brimmed hat, suddenly appeared and stopped on the other side of the street opposite the entrance. She opened a newspaper, pretended to read it. It was obvious to Tweed she was watching Coral's entrance. Why?

Inside, when Coral, fully dressed, had let Paula in, she had showed pleasure at the arrival of her visitor. In the living room she had offered coffee, which Paula had accepted.

'What about breakfast?' Coral asked.

'I've had some. What about yourself?'

'Finished it half an hour ago. It really is lovely to see you. Did you get my note?'

'I was just going to thank you for it,' Paula replied, seated in an armchair opposite her hostess. 'You sounded so excited. A new boyfriend? Or shouldn't I ask?'

'It's a secret. I've changed my mind about telling you. I'm sorry, but I'll let you know if it works out. Now I'll show you the rest of my safe harbour.'

Across the hall was a door leading into a fairly large bedroom. A double bed with a headboard occupied the bulk of the space. The floor was polished wood with a rug on each side where you would step out in the morning. A tasteful dressing table was perched against the far wall.

'Check the closets,' Coral urged. 'I should say wardrobes but you'll see why I used the American term.'

Paula opened one of the two double doors, which had to be pulled hard to overcome a tendency to stick. She was surprised. The depth and width of the 'closet' was spacious. She walked inside, like entering a small room. Three coats suspended on hangers caught her attention. One a camel hair, another a smart evening coat, the third a smart raincoat. Coral chuckled and gently pushed the door almost closed. A light came on inside. Coral opened the door.

'The wiring's set up the wrong way. The light should come on when you open it. I'm getting it fixed.'

'Nice coats,' Paula remarked as she stepped out.

'Expensive.'

'The new boyfriend?' Paula chaffed her.

'Not yet! My aunt married a rich man a few months ago and generously sent me a very fat cheque. I blew it on those coats.'

'You're on top of the world, then.'

'Not entirely.' Coral's expression changed.

'Why? Is anything the matter?'

'I'm bothered about a man who stalks me. I'm walking along a street and I know he's behind me. I look back and he's gone. It's bothersome.'

'Description?'

'I never see him. I just know he's there. Must sound a bit silly. Maybe I've got too much imagination. Women do sometimes get this idea in their head.' She laughed. 'It probably comes down to vanity.'

Paula studied her. The Parrot was an attractive woman but older. That could upset some women. Coral was younger and a stunner. About five feet three inches tall, she was slim and her red hair piled on top of her head was seductive. Her features were perfectly moulded: a fine forehead, her eyes large above a perfect nose and a full mouth. Yes, some older women could come to hate her.

'Do you know anything about the Parrot's earlier life?'

'She grew up in the Midlands, in some place called Walkhampton. A small industrial town, I gather. She was educated in a prep school and then passed into a grammar. She left Walkhampton when she was twenty, came down here, whipped through the civil service exam. Her parents died in a car crash soon after she'd arrived down here. After passing top in the exam she set to work – she's said this to me – to push her way up quickly, shoving other people out of the way.'

'But now she's turned friendly with you?' Paula suggested.

'She did. I told you about that. Now she's turned really nasty again. She humiliates me.' Coral mimicked the Parrot's way of speaking fast. '"Miss Flenton, I gave you these pencils to be sharpened. They've still got thick ends. I need them with needle points. Try again. Can't you do even a simple job like that properly? Your problem is you're lazy. Spend half your time thinking about men, I suspect. Men are for when you've left the building. That is, if you can find one. Well, don't just listen to me. Sharpen those damned pencils." She's started finding fault with everything,' Coral concluded.

'Goes up and down a bit, doesn't she?'

'A friend of mine in the next department thinks she's manic. Bit strong, I thought. I suppose she based her idea on the Parrot's wild mood swings. Sorry to drop all this stuff on you. Next time we won't mention my job.'

'I'd better go now,' said Paula, standing up. 'Actually, you are always interesting. I'll come again if it suits you.'

'Please! And don't forget you've got my spare front-door key so you can come in when you want and wait for me to leave work.'

Outside, hunched down in his car, Tweed watched the door open. Paula and Coral hugged each other. Then Paula, head down in thought, walked slowly towards him.

The moment the two women appeared the Parrot took off, striding briskly in the opposite direction. Tweed opened the passenger car door and Paula slipped inside. She reported every word which had been exchanged, described the layout of Coral's flat. Tweed waited until she had finished, talking quickly, before he told her about the Parrot's vigil.

'I can't make head nor tail of that,' Paula commented.

'I can,' Tweed said as he began to drive. 'The fact that she walked off as soon as the two of you appeared tells me a lot.'

'Such as?'

'She was expecting a man to come out, a man who'd spent the night with Coral.'

'Who?'

'I just wish I knew. It doesn't help me to solve those two murders with these women at each other's throats.' He frowned. 'Or maybe it does.'

*

The Cabal were assembled round their strange three-sided table. Nelson kept moving his blotter, rearranging his pens, which showed nervousness unusual for him. The other two waited until he spoke.

'I think we've got to do something damned quickly to make those few wobbly Cabinet ministers support our draft bill to merge the security services.'

'Maybe it's time to frighten them,' Noel suggested. 'If an explosion – terrorists, of course – took place in London, that would do it.'

'In London? Where in London?' Nelson's expression was appalled. 'We must not risk any casualties.'

'In Richmond Park.'

'You must be mad,' sneered Benton, glaring through his glasses.

'Mad as a hatter,' roared Nelson.

'My intermediary,' Noel began in his soft voice, 'has found a part of Richmond Park a long way from the river. There is an entrance never used at this time of the year, on the outskirts. The only casualty, if any, will be a tree or two. It will be thought by the police the driver was taking it by a roundabout route to the populous area of the park but the bomb exploded prematurely. Panic, but no one even injured.'

'You have complete confidence in this intermediary?' demanded Nelson.

'Complete.'

It was a tactic of Noel's to invent so-called intermediaries, so no one in the room knew he was making the contacts himself.

'What do you think?' Nelson asked.

'We do need something to wake those ministers up now,' Benton suggested.

'I suppose we do.' Nelson's large fleshy face was a picture of uncertainty. 'If we all vote in favour we'll do it,' he decided.

They all lifted a left hand. Noel stood up, careful not to smile. 'Then I'd better go outside and make a phone call.'

Tweed and Paula arrived at Park Crescent to find the whole team in the office. Marler was stuffing his flying gear into a large bag, first trying on his flying helmet to make sure it fitted comfortably.

'What's going on?' Tweed asked as Monica took his overcoat.

It was Harry who answered. He wore his camouflage jacket. He was tucking away grenades, one into each pocket.

'Marler and I have decided we'd better check up on that truck, make sure it's still there. Marler is flying me down there. He says you told him there was a landing place on top of the big hill.'

'Mountain High,' Tweed recalled. 'I want everything tricky dealt with. And fast.'

'Then if the truck's still there with no one about I could blow the thing up myself,' Harry offered.

'Do it. Paula and I cleaned up one dangerous aspect in the early morning. I presume you all know there's been another horrific murder. Another woman. Same beastly method.'

'It's in the late edition of the Daily Nation,' Newman said. 'Drew Franklin's column. He really does have a marvellous network of contacts.'

'And off the record,' Tweed snapped, 'I imagine a chief inspector's wallet is fat with another two hundred pounds. Can I see the report?'

'We're off,' Marler said, leaving with Harry as Tweed read:

SECOND VANDER-BROWNE HORROR MURDER

Another House of Death now exists in London. The brutally mutilated body of Marina Vander-Browne was discovered at her Mayfair address early this morning, similar to how her sister, Viola, was cut to pieces only a week ago. Chief Inspector Hammer said they were making progress with their investigation.

'Making progress backwards,' Tweed snorted, handing the newspaper back to Newman.

He stood up, swept his gaze round the remaining members of his team. From his expression they knew something grim was coming.

'You should all know that Professor Saafeld believes this fiend – man or woman – may strike again during the next few days.' The timbre of his voice was deep. 'Saafeld calls it blood storm. The killer gets a surge of desire to murder and as this surge accelerates, the time gap between his slaughters decreases. We have only days to identify who it is. I want to know as much as we can extract from all the members of the Cabal, as one approach. Newman, you will do your best link up with Noel, to grill him. Nield, your target is Benton. Paula, you interview the Parrot.'

'Can I wait a few hours to do that?' Paula requested. 'I've somewhere I want to go before I see her.'

'Agreed,' Tweed said abruptly. 'I will take on Nelson, but that may have to wait until the end of the day. Howard wants me to go through the report for the PM with him. The timing of showing him that document is vital. Marler and Harry will be given their assignments when they return from Peckham Mallet. Then I may have to make a quick trip to interview General Macomber. I will be back late this afternoon.'

'You're going down there alone?' Paula asked anxiously.

'Yes. No argument. The General is up to something. Here is a tip which might help you all. We are looking for someone – again man or woman – who is capable of the most sadistic cruelty.'

'Who screwed the cat's neck through a hundred and eighty degrees all those years ago,' Paula suggested.

'Possibly. Remember, we have perhaps only two days to prevent a third horror.'

In the afternoon Tweed was driving towards Tolhaven and the ferry to Black Island when Marler and Harry returned to the office from their trip. But they had flown there together with Marler as pilot of his light aircraft and Harry trembling beside him.

'I could do with a tot of brandy,' Harry gasped.

He was making an effort to walk steadily. Monica jumped up, opened a cupboard, grabbed a bottle of brandy and a glass. She poured a stiff tot. He swallowed half of it, heaved a sigh of relief. He swallowed the rest, stood up straight from the hunched position Monica had noticed when he had entered the office.

Marler, a sardonic smile on his face, had followed him in.

Harry assumed his favourite position, seated cross-legged on the floor. Marler walked past him, stood against the wall, put a cigarette in his ivory holder, lit it.

'We've had a bit of an adventure,' he drawled.

'A bloody nightmare,' snapped Harry.

'I'll tell you what happened,' Marler began. 'Monica, you might take this down. As a statement for Tweed…'