The Savage Gorge

FIFTEEN

The next morning a carefully dressed but nervous Paula tapped the agreed tattoo on Tweed's door. Wearing a sports jacket and grey slacks, he ushered her inside with a smile and a wave of his hand. He immediately noticed her unusually worried expression.

'Come in. Make yourself at home,' he greeted her cheerfully.

She sat down in a hard-backed chair, her feet together. She sat very erect, spoke softly.

'I have something to tell you I don't think you'll like.'

'A cup of steaming black coffee might help start the day.'

He poured her a cup and tactfully placed it on a small table next to her chair. He guessed she might have trouble not spilling it as she lifted the cup.

'I think we ought to have a full breakfast up here. I'll order it,' he said firmly, reaching for the phone.

'Won't the landlord think it funny I'm in your suite so early?' she ventured.

'Mr Bowling has been running this hotel for a long time, I'm sure. He'll be quite used to serving breakfasts to men who have spent the night with a lady friend. Par for the course.'

Over the phone he ordered a huge breakfast for two, to be served in twenty minutes. Tea, more coffee, toast – white and brown (which he knew Paula pre ferred), scrambled eggs for two, crispy bacon, toasted muffins…

'We'll both be fighting fit after that,' he said, refilling her cup. 'Now, I'll just listen.'

She told him of the events of the previous night, starting with her driving the Audi from the hotel and parking it inside the hedge overlooking Hobart House. She kept it brief and found herself talking more quickly as Tweed kept nodding his head to show her he was taking it all in. His expression was pleasant, that of the interested listener – until she came to the point where she quoted what Neville Guile had said to his henchman. Use her as a man likes to use a woman.

His lips tightened. He turned his head away so Paula would not see the cold fury in his eyes. From that moment on he couldn't wait until he met Neville Guile in a quiet place and slowly strangled him.

He lit a rare cigarette and when he turned to face

Paula again his expression of listening to every word she said had returned. She concluded with her walking away from the cottage with the crooked chimney back across the bowl to the parked car.

'I'm sorry,' she said. 'I should never have taken the risk…'

'Wrong!' he exploded. 'You were right. Haven't I always told every member of the team they must use their initiative? Which is exactly what you did. It may have been pretty grim for you, but you proved you can – and do – think for yourself.'

'Thank you,' she said quietly.

'The next problem is to get rid of the body of the fiend who attacked you.'

'It's already been done. On my way along the corri dor to get here I met Harry. He said the thug's name was Ned Marsh – he found his passport on his body in the cottage. With the help of Archie MacBlade he carried the body back up to Black Gorse Moor, found the tunnel I'd been in and the vertical drop. They dumped the body down the tunnel – it went all the way down. MacBlade said Guile is always checking. When he phones Marsh on his mobile during the night and gets no reply he'll send another thug at once to drive the truck. Haifa ton of rubble will be emptied down the tunnel. The thug who tried to rape and kill me will never be found.'

'Solves one problem,' Tweed commented.

'I'm perplexed,' said Paula. 'Nothing links up. Mystery One – Harry tracks Falkirk up here. We follow. Mystery Two – we find Hartland Trent mur dered, his place ransacked. Mystery Three – how does Lord Bullerton fit in? Mystery Four – why is Neville Guile visiting this part of the world? Then, what is happening on Black Gorse Moor with that network of tunnels?'

'You left out one more,' Tweed remarked. 'Who really hired Falkirk, private detective?'

'And,' she added, 'I haven't seen Chief Inspector Roadblock for some time.'

Tweed chuckled. 'That's because I phoned Buchanan and asked him to recall the gentleman to London. His new task? To call at every residence in the Lynton Avenue area to ask if they saw anything. He gets no reply since they're on holiday. He has to persist until he meets them.'

'Which will take him forever. All those houses.'

'That's my idea. Can't have him up here messing up the whole case. But our main task remains the same – to identify the murderer.'

'Any suspects yet?' she coaxed.

'I think a large part of the motive is Black Gorse Moor.'

The pleasant maid had cleared the breakfast clutter, but Paula was still puzzled by Tweed's reply. Another factor entered her mind. She looked across to where Tweed was perched on the edge of his bed, studying his notebook.

'Noak Island. Could that be important? Somewhere remote out in the Atlantic?'

'All great minds think alike.' He smiled. 'I was just wondering about that myself.'

'And there's a strange item in the paper. Something about Asiatic pirates who grabbed a big oil tanker, fully laden, about seven months ago.'

'I spotted that too.'

Tweed stopped talking as someone rapped on the door.

He had his Walther behind his back as he unlocked the door. Outside Archie MacBlade stood with Falkirk. MacBlade smiled as he politely put the ques tion.

'Any chance of our having a confidential chat now?'

'Perfect timing. I have Paula with me. Come in. Seat yourselves while I listen.'

MacBlade chose a large couch after hugging Paula, asking how she was, whether she had slept well.

'Very OK,' she said with a warm smile. 'Slept solidly the whole night through.'

Falkirk had joined MacBlade on the couch. MacBlade waved a hand at his companion.

'Think it was time I came clean. I was the one who hired our mutual ally, Falkirk.'