Precipice

51

Landing at Bournemouth International, still in brilliant sunlight, Tweed supervised the transfer of a protesting Butler to a waiting car. He had a driver, so Nield sat in the back. As it vanished in the direction of Poole, Marler pointed to two four-wheel-drive vehicles parked nearby.

'That's what I ordered, as you suggested,' he told Tweed. 'I'll deal with the paperwork, then we can get cracking.'

While he was doing this Tweed had a word with the Controller, referring to his friend Jim Corcoran, Chief of Security at Heathrow. He was told that Brazil had left with a lady in a large limo three-quarters of an hour earlier. He went back and told Newman and Philip while Paula listened.

'He's got a head start on us.' Newman said grimly.

'The hazards of chance,' Tweed replied.

They drove from the airport with Philip behind the wheel of the vehicle carrying Tweed and Paula. Marler drove behind them with Newman by his side, his case in the back.

They drove a more direct route to the car ferry than the one taken by Brazil, were confronted with the same depressing notice informing them the ferry was out of commission. Tweed pursed his lips, then took his next decision.

'We'll have to go via Wareham, it's a long roundabout route, but there's nothing else for it.'

Take you hours to get there,' the same workman who had spoken to Brazil informed them. A minute before he had explained with glee what had happened to the ferry.

'This is no good.' said Philip. 'I know what we must do.'

Gesturing for Marler to follow, he backed away from the ferry point, drove along a road which ran parallel to the large harbour. Frequently Paula saw forests of masts swaying gently between trees. They were sitting together in the back and Tweed called out: 'Philip, maybe you'd let me in on what you propose.'

'When I was up on Lyman's Tout with Eve, the night of the fire, I noticed an old jetty at the foot of a nearby cove. There was a footpath leading down to it. If we hire a boat that's the quickest way to get to the area.'

'By boat?' Tweed was horrified.

Take these.' Paula whispered. 'Two Dramamines for sea sickness. You've taken them before. And I've got a small canister of water – Tupperware – in my shoulder bag. Now don't argue. Just swallow them.'

Reluctantly, Tweed did as he was told, swallowing all the water to get the two tablets down. He hated the sea, as Paula knew.

'Are you sure it's going to get us there quicker by boat?' he demanded.

'Absolutely certain.' Philip had the bit between his teeth. 'That's what I was checking on the map aboard the jet. I have plenty of money and I also have a certificate for handling any kind of craft. I used to sail a lot before I met Jean. Hardly more than a kid, I was.'

He turned off the main road down a side road with a sign, TO MARINA. When they arrived Tweed saw the masts swaying. He turned to Paula.

'Looks as though the sea is rough.'

'Just a gentle swell.' Philip assured him.

'I seem to have heard those words before.' Tweed said without any enthusiasm.

'The Dramamines will have worked by the time we're aboard.' Paula whispered.

Philip had been joined by Newman and Marler. He argued with them forcefully, convinced them he knew what he was doing. Marler also knew about handling boats so it was arranged he would back up Philip if necessary. The next thing they discussed was the choice of the craft available.

Tweed wandered with Paula out onto the marina. Even inside the harbour there was Philip's so-called 'gentle swell'. Tweed began talking to take his mind off the coming ordeal.

'Brazil is a strange man. I suppose we're all a weird mix, but he has changed the course of the world and his name will never appear in any history book. I'm sure he knows this.'

'Then why has he done it?' Paula wanted to know.

'Not for personal glory, that's certain.'

'Yet he seemed to love being on close terms with the occupants of Downing Street, the White House, the Elysee, and so on.'

'I think he was just using his powerful personality to weigh up what sort of people were running the world -and was appalled by the lack of ability he found in high circles.'

'But he's such a ruthless man,' she persisted.

'If you set out to change the balance of world power you have to be ruthless, I'd say. He's a unique mixture of statesman and villain. The unusual aspect of his character is he must be completely lacking in vanity. And, unlike most of the men at the top, his view is global.'

'I get the impression he doesn't like modern communications.'

'I'm sure he doesn't. Neither do I. The way to a truly catastrophic explosion is to bring everyone on the planet on top of each other. People sit in front of their TV and think they're getting the news. All they're getting is sensational horrific pictures, often of something which doesn't have any effect on the way the world is moving. Important news is ignored if it doesn't produce lurid pictures. TV so-called news is entertainment – if that's the right word for the horrors they love to show us.'

'And we don't like mobile phones. At least, I don't.' said Paula.

'Carting one of those about means you never have time to think. The knowledge that anyone can contact you even when you're out for a walk is disturbing. Brazil was so right about scientists – they never consider the possible consequences of what they're inventing.'

They both turned round as they heard someone running up behind them. It was Marler.

'We've found a beaut. It's costing a mint to hire but it will get us there fast.'

'I'm looking forward to this.' Tweed said ironically.

Paula glanced at Tweed with anxiety as they arrived at where the chosen vessel was berthed. A gangplank with rails was in position. It was a huge power cruiser and had a high, closed-in bridge. Philip was already inside, behind the controls. Newman was unfastening a rope round a bollard, waiting to cast off.

'Has the Dramamine started to work?' whispered Paula.

'It has.'

'There's a very luxurious-looking cabin. I think you will be comfortable there.'

'Well, I'm not going below decks. First, it's closer to the water. Second, I want to see what's happening. I'm going onto the bridge.'

'If you feel like that.' Paula replied dubiously.

'I do!' Tweed walked across the gangplank with a firm step. He never grasped the rails although the gangplank was swaying with the swell. Newman called out to Paula, handed her a pair of powerful field glasses he'd dug out of his satchel.

'One for you, one for Tweed.'

Philip had started up the engines. He slid aside a window, poked his head out, shouted down.

'All aboard that's going aboard. Look lively down there.'

'He's in his element,' Paula commented as she caught up with Tweed.

Marler and Newman cast off at bow and stern, rushed across the gangplank, hauled it on board. Tweed reached the bridge as Philip began to manoeuvre the cruiser into the main channel. He stared round in surprise at the size of the bridge, at the array of controls, at the chart obtained from the boat hirer on the chart table.

'It's like the control panel of a Boeing 747,' he said quietly to Paula.

'Don't worry. It won't become airborne.'

Below them Marler and Newman were coiling up their ropes. They passed Brownsea Island, a low hulk masked by trees, looking more like Devil's Island than a pleasure resort. Then they were coming up to the exit. Tweed stood grasping a rail, guessing what was coming when they hit the open sea.

They cruised past the impotent car ferry at a few knots. Paula could see where some other very large vessel had collided with its hull, leaving a brutal graze which men were working on. They emerged into the open and the swell increased in magnitude as Philip opened up the engines and they roared across giant waves. Taking one hand off the wheel briefly, Philip pointed shoreward.

'That's Studland Bay.'

'I know.' said Tweed, who was studying the chart. 'In summer on that Shell Bay beach it's near-naked bodies lying shoulder to shoulder. Sardine sunbathing. And look at it now.'

A strand of sandy beach was deserted, behind it was a ridge covered with miserable gorse, wind-blown and grey. One word summed up the whole stretch of this coast. Desolation.

'Old Harry Rocks coming up.' called out Philip. 'We're making good progress.'

The strange large stacks of chalk cliff, standing isolated from each other, projected into the sea and had a prehistoric appearance. Behind them, like a wave, a far larger wave than those which they were swooping up and down over, rose the Purbeck Hills. Almost bereft of trees, they had a grim look and no sign of habitation anywhere.

'Well, Eve and I drove over those hills.' Philip recalled. 'What a bloody waste of time.'

Paula noticed there wasn't a hint of nostalgia in his tone. He had spoken in a quite matter-of-fact way. Well clear of the coast, they were passing the chalk stacks. They roared on, past distant Swanage and its long bay. Smoke rose drearily from several chimneys, was blown helter-skelter in all directions the moment it emerged. Paula peered out of the window Philip had now closed.

Marler and Newman were sheltering on the starboard. On the port side spume and sea water splashed over on to the deck. Philip pointed to a cape.

'That's Durlston Head. We're getting there. Once we pass that it's only St Alban's Head. Then we're there.'

When she had peered down to starboard Paula had seen that Marler had his Armalite slung over his shoulder along with his satchel. She began to feel tense. Glancing at Tweed she could see no sign of nerves in his expression.

'Brazil.' he said, 'must pay for the people who died -for Ben, the barman at the Black Bear Inn, Partridge, an innocent bystander, mistaken for Marchat at Devastoke Cottage, Rico Sava, arms dealer in Geneva, General Sterndale, and his son. To say nothing of the bankers who were murdered. Eve Warner was a willing accomplice. She shut her eyes to what was happening. And Karin and Anton Marchat. Yes, Brazil must pay his dues.'