The Savage Gorge

TWENTY EIGHT

When Tweed climbed the stairs to get some sleep, Paula came up close behind him. She waited while he unlocked and opened his door.

'May I have a few words with you?' she asked.

'Of course.'

He thought she wanted a brief resume of his encounter with Mrs Shipton. Or she wanted to pass on information obtained during her dinner. She closed the door, stood with her arms folded.

'I'm coming with you in the Audi.'

'No! You are not.'

'We always do things together,' she insisted.

'Not this time. They expect to see only one person in the car with me.'

'So I'll huddle down out of sight in the back.'

'No, you won't, because you won't be there.'

'Snapping at me will get you nowhere,' she retorted.

Tm telling you, Paula, it's not on.'

'And I'm telling you it is on, so accept it.'

'I could give you a direct order.'

'Give it, then, if it'll make you feel better.'

'As Deputy Chief of the SIS I am giving you a direct order. You will obey it.'

'All right. Better get to bed. You won't get much sleep.'

Her stubborn mood seemed to have vanished. She kissed him on the cheek, went along to her room.

Once inside she phoned room service, ordered a large breakfast to be served in her room at 4 a. m, then requested a wake-up call for 3.30 a.m.

Before a quick shower she took from the wardrobe a dark jacket and trousers. She had never before worn them. They were so sombre they merged with the dark.