The Power (15 page)

Both new arrivals wore gleaming leather riding boots. Gaunt leaned over into the back, grasped hold of a whip.
He straightened up, saw Newman coming.

'I'll take the crop. And who have we here? The famous foreign correspondent. Read your book, Newman. Can even remember the title.
Kruger: The Computer Which Failed.
Rattling good stuff. And an international bestseller. Must have made you a mint.'

'It did reasonably well,' Newman said.

He didn't mention that he'd made a fortune out of the
book - enough to make him financially independent for
life. Jennie grabbed Gaunt by the arm.

'Don't forget the parking ticket. They check the cars here regularly.'

'What are you waiting for, then?' Gaunt asked in his
most imperious manner. 'You know where the machine is.'

I'll come with you,' Paula said.

She hadn't taken to Jennie up to that moment, but
Gaunt's treatment of his girl friend aroused her ire. She
asked the question as Jennie fed the machine with coins.

'Why do you put up with him?'

'Oh, he's utterly impossible,' Jennie replied. 'Then he
turns on the charm and is utterly irresistible. You must
have found out,'
she continued as they walked back to the
Land-Rover, 'that men are not
perfect, to say the least.'

'He's pretty damned imperfect, I'd have said.' Paula
looked at Jennie as she went on: 'Incidentally, have you
two been taking the fresh air this morning - roving round
on the moor?'

Was it her imagination or had Jennie's expression frozen
for several seconds? Were these two putting on a big act? Jennie lifted her hand to push back a wave of golden hair
from her face and glanced sideways at Paula. She made a
throwaway gesture with both hands.

'Floating round the back streets of Padstow. His
lordship is trying to kid me he'll buy me a flat here. I don't
believe a word of it. What's he on about now?'

'Come on!' Gaunt barked. 'I've just invited our friends to a
drink. The Old Custom House. Best bar in town.'

'I can't wait,' Jennie said savagely as she attached the ticket. 'Now you can drink all day.'

'Makes me sound like a real boozer,' Gaunt roared.
'One of the great leg-pullers, my Jennie.'

'Your Jennie,' she said sweetly, 'would like to pull a leg
off you. And this time you can buy the drinks for a change.'

'She's a joker, a real joker.' Gaunt slapped her on the
rump. 'Likes to make out I'm mean and God knows what
else. I like a woman I can cross swords with.'

'If I had a sword I'd stick it in you . . .'

Gaunt had gone, waving his arm in a dramatic gesture
for everyone to follow him. Cardon joined him inside the
entrance on the South Quay side. Newman paused until
Paula and Jennie had entered. Beyond the doorway Jennie
waited for Newman, looped her arm round his.

'Let's get to know each other better.' She gave him a
wicked smile. 'I think you and I would make a wonderful
team.'

'If you say so,' Newman replied neutrally.

She doesn't waste any bloody time, Paula thought,
reverting to her original opinion of Jennie. Paula examined
the bar with interest. An inviting place, it had an oak-
beamed ceiling, a long bar to her right, and the main area in front of the counter had plenty of tables with comfort
able chairs. To her left there was an elevated split-level
section behind a wooden railing. Two steps led up to the
entrance to the upper level.

The walls were cream-washed stone and the spacious
room was illuminated by wall sconces with milky glass
shades shaped like bells. A number of customers were
already drinking and the atmosphere was warm and wel
coming.

'What are you drinking, Paula?' boomed Gaunt. 'And
you, Philip,' he said, turning to Cardon. 'And our distin
guished foreign correspondent,' he went on booming. 'I
suppose you'd like something too, Jennie,' he added as an
afterthought. 'This is my round.'

'A gin and tonic,' Jennie snapped. 'If it won't break the
bank.'

Her expression suggested she was amazed - that this was
the first time Gaunt had stood a round of drinks. Newman
frowned at the fair-haired girl behind the counter. He
knew she was about to say, 'Your usual, sir?' He did not
want Gaunt to know he was staying at the Old Custom
House. Quick-witted, the girl kept silent.

'I'll have a Scotch. No water,' Newman decided.

'Make that a double!' Gaunt ordered.

'Very good, Squire. . .'

That was the first hint Paula had that Gaunt was a
well-known customer. She had to admit he cut an impres
sive figure. Doffing his deerstalker, he turned, spun it
across the rail where it landed in a green button-backed
armchair in front of a blazing log fire.

He swept off the sheepskin coat he had been wearing
and underneath was clad in a check hacking jacket. Very
much the country gentleman, Paula thought. He handed
her the gin and tonic she had
ordered and Paula passed it
to Jennie. He frowned, shrugged his broad shoulders,
collected another one, handed the second glass to Paula.

'Thanks,' Jennie whispered to Paula. 'He's in one of his roguish moods. I'd have been left to the last. Cheers!'

'Now, this way, ladies,' Gaunt commanded when they
all had their drinks. He grinned impishly at Newman.
'You chaps come too - if you must. But I assure you I can
cope with two exceedingly attractive females by
myself...'

Before Newman could reply Gaunt had marched up the steps, bellowed out cheerful greetings to people at several
tables, stood by the armchair where his hat rested and
pointed.

'Jennie, you take that chair. Paula, my dear, come and sit by me...

The instructions continued but Jennie outmanoeuvred
him. Grabbing Newman by the arm again she led him to
one of the green leather couches for two. Gaunt clapped
his hand to his high forehead in mock frustration.

'Can't get people organized. I had it all planned so
you'd enjoy yourselves. I'm pretty good at assessing who
will get on with who.'

'The cool bags are still in the Land-Rover,' Jennie
reminded him. 'Shouldn't they be put aboard? And I'm
not carting them.'

Gaunt's expression changed. He looked furious.
'Haven't you realized it's like the Arctic out there?
They'll be all right for the moment.'

'Aboard?' Paula chipped in. 'You mean aboard your
super cabin cruiser,
Mayflower III?.
Going somewhere in
her?'

Gaunt looked ready to explode. 'Who told you that?'
he barked at her. 'About my vessel?'

'One of the locals.' Paula gazed steadily back at him. 'I
couldn't even identify him now.'

'That's the trouble with a place like Padstow.' Gaunt
had lowered his voice. 'So parochial, so incestuous - they
know all your business. I couldn't afford to own a vessel
like that,' he went on more breezily. 'I just lease her for short trips. Down to Plymouth or up to Watchet.'

Paula nodded, not believing him. She stared at a shelf
above the front of the bar. It was crammed with old
suitcases, attache cases and several ancient trunks. All
pre-Second World War. She glanced towards the door.

Tweed was standing there. He gestured for her to join
him.

'Excuse me,' said Paula. 'Back in a minute
...'

'I'm going to phone Howard again,' Tweed told Paula as she joined him outside in the bitter cold. 'I'd like you to
hear how he reacts. And there's someone else I want to
try and contact afterwards . . . Later, tell me how you got
on at Five Lanes. Too much happening at the
moment
...'

Squeezed up against Tweed inside the phone box Paula waited while he dialled the Surrey mansion. She had one
ear close to the receiver. The operator put Tweed straight
through to Howard. His first words were not reassuring.

Tweed, I've never known a situation like this. I just
don't know what the hell is going on.'

Tell me why you say that,' Tweed suggested quietly.

'I've been trying to get through to the PM ever since we
last talked. No dice. Always before he's taken my calls immediately - even in the middle of a Cabinet meeting.'

'Exactly what happens when you call Downing Street?'

'I get that bloody private secretary. Excuse my
swearing, but this is crazy. The secretary always says he's
busy, in the House or away. Anywhere except at

Downing Street. He said I should cease all operations until
I do hear from the PM. Ruddy sauce!'

'And have you - ceased all operations with our people
abroad?'

'I damned well have done nothing of the sort. Tweed, I feel like a prisoner, shut up here in this mansion.'

'You are a prisoner - but a safe one so long as you do not
venture out,' Tweed warned.

'Have you any leads?' Howard asked desperately. 'You
and your team are the only ones on the outside.'

^!
I might have. Just leave everything to me. Soon I'll be
very active. Stay calm

Tweed stared at Paula after he'd put down the receiver.
'What do you think?'

'Scared. Who has the power to manipulate the PM to this extent?'

'I'm going to make that other call. To Jim Corcoran, our friendly Chief of Security at London Airport. That is, if he is still friendly. I have his private number at the airport.'

He dialled a number and it rang and rang. When it was
answered the speaker sounded irritable.

'Corcoran. Who is it?'

'Hello, Jim, this is Tweed. I need your help.'

'That could be difficult. Under the circumstances.' He sounded cautious. 'What is it?'

'What circumstances? Come on, you owe me more than
a few.'

True, Tweed, true.' Corcoran sounded warmer. He
paused. 'What can I do for you?'

'Three days ago someone called Joel Dyson - I'll spell
out that name .., may have flown to Zurich. I need
confirmation if he did. You could find out by checking the
passenger manifests. I can be—'