Cross of Fire (2 page)

'I'm going down there.' she replied stubbornly.

Before he could grab her arm she had scrambled down
the wet grassy bank to the edge of the creek. He looked
back quickly. Marler was crouched further back on the footpath, Armalite held at the ready, scanning the whole
marshland. Butler and Nield were similarly crouched,
spaced well out. Their rear was safe. He scrambled down
after her.

'I can't understand it,' Paula said, half to herself.

She was gazing at the empty hull, moving the beam back
and forth. Newman stood beside her, began playing the
beam of his own flash over a wider area. The beam passed over another nearby creek, then swivelled slowly back.

'Go and join Harry and Pete,' he advised in a sombre
tone. 'Tell Marler to come and join me now.'

'Whatever it is I must see it. I'm a big girl now. So, what is it?'

Newman switched off his flash. Tucking it inside the pocket of windcheater, he cupped his hands to call out to
Marler.

'Leave Harry and Pete where they are. Come down here
quickly...

'What is it, for God's sake?'

Paula tugged at his sleeve in frustration. He ignored her until Marler had joined them. As always, Marler was calm and controlled.

'Something up? If so, what? If I may be so bold as to enquire.'

'Come with me. Stay back, Paula ...'

Switching on his flash, he trod carefully at the edge of
the marsh towards the next isolated creek. Marler kept close
to his heels and Paula followed him. Newman stopped,
looked back at Paula, shook his head in resignation, aimed
his flash.

At the edge of the creek of stagnant water covered with green slime were the relics of a rowing boat. Most of its
structure had rotted away and it was half buried in mud. The basic structure stood out like the ribs of a prehistoric beast. Reeds had recently been torn up and thrown over the ruin. Newman steadied his torch. Paula gasped, then got a grip on herself. At the prow nearest to them a pair of training shoes projected, toes pointed at the sky. Newman knew the trainers had to be occupied by a pair of feet.

Marler moved forward after handing his Armalite to
Newman. He used his bare hands to remove the mess of
reeds carefully from the stern. By the light of Newman's
steady beam they saw dark hair exposed, a white blotchy face staring upwards, the tongue protruding horribly from
the half-open mouth. Marler continued removing more
reeds, exposing the torso clad in a dark blue windcheater.
Then the boat lost balance, toppled the corpse out sideways.

A macabre movement, the body rolled as though alive,
ended up on its back, lying on damp reeds. Paula sucked in her breath. By the light of Newman's flash Marler bent over the pathetic figure clad in denims below the windcheater.

'Ifs Karin,' Paula whispered. 'She's dead, isn't she?'

'Fear so.' Marler answered quietly. 'Dead as a doornail.' he added under his breath.

'How did she ...' Paula began.

'Strangled.' Marler replied.

The flashlight focused on the girl's bruised, swollen
throat. The protruding tongue flopped over the lower lip.
Newman put his arm round Paula, forced her back up to
the footpath on the embankment.

'We'd better get back to the car. I need my mobile phone to call the police.'

'You've forgotten - I've got one.'

Paula pulled her own instrument from underneath her
windcheater. She handed it to Newman as she stood very still, staring down where Marler, realizing he could do no more, had stood up, was brushing stray reeds off his raincoat.

'Then I can call from here.' Newman said, taking hold of the phone.

'You won't know the number.'

'On the way I stopped briefly at a call box, checked the
number of Ipswich police headquarters. Your message to
Park Crescent mentioned a scream which was choked off. I suspected we might face something like this.'

He pressed buttons after extending the aerial. He had to wait a minute before the desk sergeant answered. 'I want to
report a murder. Location ...'

Part One
Nightmare for Paula

Chapter One

'I sense a crisis situation in Germany.' Tweed said, to take
his mind off his anxiety about Paula. He paced the floor of
his first-floor office at the Park Crescent HQ.

The Deputy Director of the SIS was of medium height, well built, ageless. He wore horn-rims and could pass people in the street without being noticed - a trait which had so often helped him in his job.

The only other occupant was his faithful assistant, Monica. A middle-aged woman with her grey hair tied in a bun, she sat behind her desk as her chief continued. He checked
his watch. 10 p.m.

'Thank God Paula is safe. That call from Newman was
brief. If she's injured he'd keep it from me until they get
back here. I wonder what happened up in Suffolk.'

'You'll hear when she gets back and tells you. What
made you use the word crisis about Germany?'

'The urgent call from Chief Inspector Kuhlmann of
the German Kriminalpolizei. His request for me to meet
him in the utmost secrecy in three days' time in Luxem
bourg City. Why there? I could have flown to his HQ in
Wiesbaden.'

'Again, you'll only know when you meet him.'

'What could have gone wrong in Suffolk?' Tweed
repeated. 'Paula only dashed off up there because she knows
I am investigating the disturbing rumours from France.
Karin Rosewater told her she was on the track of a connec
tion with the rising chaos in the French Republic. What
connection could there be between Suffolk and France?'

'Maybe all three situations are linked.' Monica suggested. 'Suffolk, France, and this trip to see Kuhlmann.'

'That I find in the realms of fantasy.'

It was a remark he was to regret later. The phone rang,
Monica took the call, looked pleased, said come up now.

'Paula, Newman, and Marler have arrived...'

'Bob must have driven his Merc to the limit...'

As the trio came into the room Tweed noticed Paula's
grim expression. Nodding to him she said nothing as she
sagged at her desk. Marler perched on the edge of her desk,
giving her moral support. Newman threw his windcheater
over the back of a chair, sat
down, began to talk while
Monica hurried out to make coffee. Tweed leaned back in his swivel chair, listened without interruption, glancing
occasionally at Paula.

'... so, after we found the body I called Ipswich police.'
Newman continued. 'We left Butler and Nield to show the
police the location when they arrived. We took Paula to the local hotel, the Brudenell, booked a room so she could have a hot bath, then drove straight back here. That's it.'

'Not quite all, I suspect.' Tweed looked at Paula. 'I must first say how very sorry I am about the fate of your friend, Karin Rosewater.'

'It was cold-blooded murder. I'm all right now. The hot
bath revived me. Like you, I'm an owl, so we can get on
with it now. You'll have questions.'

'Why did Karin come over to see you?'

'She knew I was employed by what she thought was a
highly organized security service. She didn't know I was
SIS, of course. She said she had been asked by what she called the authorities to investigate the deteriorating situ
ation in France. She asked me to go with her to Dunwich in
Suffolk. A tiny scrap of a village down the coast below Southwold.'

'I know Dunwich. Why there?'

'Then you probably know most of Dunwich is buried
under the sea - erosion over the years. At her suggestion
we hired wetsuits and drove up there. Some organization is exploring underwater, trying to locate and map this sunken
village. I thought she was crazy, asked her why. She said
she couldn't say but would I help? She said there was a
connection with what is happening in France.'

'Did she elaborate on that odd remark?'

'No. I was going to pump her later during dinner but as
it turned out...' She paused, swallowed. 'Karin phoned
ahead before we left London to someone she knew in Southwold. When we arrived at Aldeburgh a seaman was
waiting for us with a rubber dinghy with a powerful out
board engine. Karin took us up the coast over a calm sea
until we were opposite Dunwich, then cut the engine and
we went over there in our wetsuits.'

'How far offshore?' asked Newman.

Paula drank half the large mug of coffee Monica had
served. 'About half a mile, maybe less.'

'Go on.' urged Tweed. 'Anyone else about when you
arrived?'

'Absolutely no one. There was a long rope curled up in
the dinghy with an iron hook at one end, the other attached to the dinghy. Karin threw it overboard, then said we could
find our way back up to the dinghy fast if we had to. And by God, later we had to.'

'What happened underwater?' Tweed prodded.

'To start with it was fascinating. Horribly cold but there are surprisingly well-preserved relics of the sunken village.
Even an old church tower, which was upright, which I
thought strange. We swam among the relics and the rocks
and then I thought I saw a great white whale. I nearly
jumped out of my wetsuit but it remained quite motionless,
as though it was anchored. That was when the floating
cavalry appeared - men in wetsuits,
one with a knife
between his teeth.'

'You mean they were hostile?' Marler drawled.

'I mean they were trying to kill us, for God's Sake. We
managed to evade them by swimming fast among the relics.
Karin led me to where the iron hook rested - she'd attached
it to a window in the church. We shinned up the rope,
climbed back into the dinghy and had the shock of our
lives.'

'Have more coffee,' Tweed advised.

He was watching closely for signs of reaction. She'd had a punishing experience and he was ready to send her home. But she seemed determined to tell her story.

Even under stress, she was attractive. In her early thirties,
she had raven-black hair, good bone structure, was slim with an excellent figure and of medium height. She put
down her mug.

'The sea was no longer deserted. Not far from our dinghy a large vessel was floating. Weird. I've never seen anything like it. Beautiful lines but something sinister about it. Not like an ordinary ship.'

'Hovercraft?' Newman suggested.

'Absolutely not. High out of the water. Something odd about the hull.'

'Hydrofoil?' Marler queried.

'No!' She waved an impatient hand. 'I know what both
look like. The hull seemed to be split in two.'

'Why not tell us what happened next?' Tweed coaxed.

Three of the men in wetsuits came up to the surface
close to the dinghy- Karin slashed the anchor rope, I started up the outboard, and we beat the hell south for Aldeburgh.'