The Savage Gorge

TWENTY NINE

The following morning at nine thirty the air was intolerably humid. The sky was a solid grey. Just north of the bridge beyond the Falls a vast storm moved slowly south.

In the garage, Marler was having a last word with Tweed, who sat behind the wheel of the Audi. As they talked a shadow moved in the darkness.

'They're in position in the caves,' Marler drawled. 'Lepard is with them as leader. So are we – in position on this side. With a bit of luck we'll have wiped them out before that king of a storm breaks. It's a monster. I'd better get into my position.'

Tweed started the engine, began to crawl out of the garage. A rear door was opened, shut. In his rear- view mirror Tweed saw Paula crouching down in the back.

He swore inwardly. There was nothing he could do. He had to keep moving to meet the delicate timetable. He said not one word. Neither did Paula.

She was checking the Browning she'd extracted from her shoulder holster. At the training mansion hidden in deepest Surrey they had been taught to do this in darkness.

As they proceeded along the High Street they passed noticeboards Marler had had erected in the middle of the night.

KEEP OFF STREETS, PAVEMENTS THIS MORNING. ABOUT TO BE TARRED. OK TO WALK ON AFTER 3 PM TODAY.

It was the only way to protect the inhabitants of the town when the bullets began to fly.

There was a sinister rumble of thunder. No rain drenching down yet. Paula opened the roadside window, looking out on the steep-stepped roads mounting the hill overlooking the High Street. No more thunder. It was ominously quiet.

On the far side of the Falls, Lepard was struggling with a special weapon. The bazooka was like a drainpipe. The sticky atmosphere was making his hands moist. It was not easy to manoeuvre the heavy unfamiliar weapon. In front of him, lying down below the low rampart wall at the rim of the cave, three of his elite men perched the barrels of their rifles, aimed at the oncoming Audi. They found themselves exposed with shoulders and heads above the parapet. It was the only way they could see down at the oncoming target, the Audi crawling closer by the minute.

Below them at Level Two their compatriots faced the same problem. They were nervous about their exposure. It was a difficulty Lepard had not fore seen.

The men below them in the cave at Level Three were equally nervous. Lepard had told everyone the signal to open fire would be when he fired the rocket from his own weapon, the deadly bazooka. One hit from his weapon and Tweed would be eliminated in a burst of fire.

Marler, perched high up on the roof of a house, had also spotted the weapon, through the cross-hairs of his Armalite. Beside him Harry had his automatic aimed at the cave in Level Two.

'What do you think?' Harry asked.

'It's going to be tricky. At Level One, Lepard has a bazooka.'

'Lord help us…'

'One rocket hitting the target and it's all over. I'm happy to see Lepard is unfamiliar with the weapon. It keeps wobbling all over the place. When I open fire so do the rest of our people.'

'Well, Pete Nield has arrived from the training mansion in Surrey, and he and Newman are covering that lot at Level Three…'

Lepard inserted his deadly rocket. It coincided with the storm breaking over the Falls with a tremendous thunderclap. An incredible cascade poured down from the sky, millions of gallons flooded down over the Falls.

Marler fired his first shot. The bullet took half Lepard's face away. Blood poured down. Marler's first bullet had hit as Lepard was about to press the trigger. He lost control. The barrel was aimed up at the roof of the rocky cave, brought it down.

Lepard was sliced in half at the waist as a huge knife-like rock caught him. Marler's bombardment was nonstop as his men sprayed the caves. The top half of Lepard's body, streaming with blood, fell into the surge of water, which was now a small Niagara. The rest of his body went over the edge, followed by his compatriots blasted by the shock- wave.

Inside the Audi, Paula stared in amazement. The immense surge of water was no longer white. It was blood-red as other enemies toppled out of the caves at Levels Two and Three. The Falls had taken on the look of a huge rainbow.

Paula stared down at the large pool at the base of the Falls. Enemy bodies floated on its crimson surface, rushed on downriver as they were caught up in the swift surge of the central current, much enlarged. She averted her gaze.

The action was taking on the atmosphere of a pounding operatic drama – but one never seen in the theatre. Vast sheets of rain hammered the roof of the Audi. A deafening inferno swept Gunners Gorge. The foetid atmosphere was creating a mist creeping up over the Falls.

Marler, now clad in a green sou'wester, was searching the area. He was perched on a flat rock to evade the streams of water sluicing down the ridge.

'Harry,' he shouted, 'something's wrong. There were ten of them. I counted. No sign of the tenth man. Where is he?'

Inside the Audi, where Tweed was slowly turning the vehicle to face the Nag's Head, Paula caught motion out of the corner of her eye. The tenth man was clam bering fast down a water-logged gulley. His target was the Audi.

In his right hand he held a grenade. Paula tensed. If he got closer he only had to remove the pin and roll it under the Audi's petrol tank. One flash, one explosion and they'd be roasted, liquidated.

She threw open the rear door, jumped out. Rain drenched her. Gripping her Browning in both hands, she fired twice. Distorted red flower shapes appeared on the tunic covering his chest. He fell forward onto the grenade.

She froze, waiting for the detonation. Nothing happened. Later, when explosives expert Harry carefully lifted the body, he found the pin had not been withdrawn from the grenade.

Paula was about to jump back into the Audi when she glanced across at the river bank. Lord Bullerton, stomping through sheets of rain, stopped by his stone asking for Lizbeth's return. To destroy it now she was safely home?

No one had thought of telling him to remain at Hobart House. He stepped forward a few more paces. The rain had churned the river bank into a muddy swamp. He slipped, fell into the river, hands grabbing at sturdy shrubs.

Appalled, she ran across the marshy ground. He was struggling to get out, up to his broad chest in water, getting nowhere. She leant down, inserted a hand under each of his armpits. He was too heavy for her to haul him out.

Movement caught her attention nearer the Falls. She stared. Neville Guile's long legs were carrying him towards the bank on her side. Stripping off his white jacket and slip-on shoes, he dived into the river. She understood. He had felt compelled to see with his own eyes the killing of Tweed.

There was a brief near-comic element when she saw he was heading for the opposite bank. A Rolls-Royce waited for him. By the side of the road opposite a uniformed chauffeur stood to attention.

Guile was a surprisingly strong swimmer, cleverly swimming at an angle into the main force of the cur rent.

'Oh, my God!' she said aloud.

A massive tree trunk, caught up by a fresh storm which had burst recently well north of the bridge, cre ating a tidal surge of water, dropped the hundred and fifty feet into the pool below. It was swept out and car ried downriver.

'Oh, no!' Paula called out in her terror.

The 'tree' was a full-grown crocodile, far from its normal hunting ground. The prehistoric monster headed towards Guile. Only the head was visible now, exposing its evil little eyes.

Guile only saw it coming when he was more than halfway across the river. He panicked, began to dog- paddle. The beast's enormous jaws were now fully open. It reached the swimming man. His whole body was sucked inside. It had stopped raining and was ominously quiet. She clearly heard the crunch of Guile's skull as the creature closed its jaws. She looked away.

Now she was confronted with a new terror. Blood from Bullerton's damaged knee was flowing into the current. Crocodiles have a deadly scent for the pres ence of blood. The creature, having had its main course, was now ready for dessert as it headed inshore for Bullerton. Paula was in despair. She knew that bullets would simply bounce off its thick wrinkled hide, but she knew she couldn't heave out Bullerton's heavy body.

She heard swift feet running and slithering in the mud. Harry was tearing across towards her at aston ishing speed. At school he had excelled as a cricketer, a brilliant bowler. In his right hand he held the largest grenade Paula had ever seen.

The beast was no more than fifty feet from the helpless Bullerton. Standing close to her, Harry watched as the awful jaws opened. He took a firm stand, removed the pin, lobbed the grenade. It landed deep inside the open jaws, was caught in the crocodile's throat.

The detonation was muffled. Paula stared as the monster was fragmented, small pieces flying across the river into the main current. They looked like pieces of bark from a big tree.

' I’ll take over,' Harry told her.

Bending down carefully, he exchanged hands with Paula, inserting them under Bullerton's armpits. One mighty heave and Bullerton was lying on firm ground. He stood up, seeming to be none the worse for his ordeal.

A gentle hand descended on Paula's shoulder. An equally gentle voice spoke. Tweed's.

'A snack lunch I think, Paula, then plenty of sleep. We have to go out this evening to confront the murderer of four people.'

'Four!' she exclaimed.

'Yes. Four."