No Mercy (16 page)

'Don't forget your date with Lucinda tomorrow,' Paula
teased him. 'You'll have to wear something suitable. For
Lucinda you need that smart grey suit.'

'Bossy. And don't you forget your date with Keith Kent.
And turn up on time. He's a stickler for punctuality.'

'I asked for that. Poor Christine must be some
accountant. I never heard Keith say before it may take some
time to sort out.'

'Another thing,' Tweed told her as they approached Park
Crescent, 'I've asked Newman to dig up a complete
biography on Abel Gallagher. I was alarmed when he let slip
he knew we'd been to Abbey Grange. How on earth could
he know that?'

'Suggests he has a contact down there. Wonder who it is.'

Newman reached for his folded newspaper the moment they
entered the office. He waited until Tweed was behind his
desk, then spread out the paper.

'You know Drew Franklin, the top political correspondent
on the
Daily Nation?

'Of course we do,' said Paula. 'He's almost as smart as you
are,' she joked.

'This is serious,' Newman snapped. 'You've both heard
vague references to Angora, the new rebel state in the
Mediterranean. Washington's really worried since a
fundamentalist government took over. Extreme Islamic. Our
government, of course, plays down any idea of a menace.
Read that.'

ANGORA ROCKETS FOR LONDON?
Reliable informants report Angora has received from
North Korea 100 rockets with a range of 2,500 miles.
This means the missiles could easily reach Paris, Berlin
or London. The rockets are waiting now for the
expected delivery of missiles which are on their way
from North Korea. Our government complacent.

Tweed read the article twice. Then he got up, walked over
to the windows, which had a distant view of Regent's Park.
He wasn't seeing the view. In his mind he was running
through all the events they had witnessed since first visiting
Michael with his amnesia. Vivid pictures came back. The strange trip with Michael to Dartmoor. The skeletons. The
people he had met. Snatches of conversation. The bullet
aimed at him on the way back. Gantia. Lucinda. Anne Barton. Fourth name on the list in Michael's pocket. He
turned round.

'My instinct tells me this murder case is far more sinister, more dangerous than we realized. Powerful invisible forces are at work. The momentum is building up at frantic pace. We must solve the case, a case of unimaginable magnitude.'

14

It was dark outside when Marler walked into the office.
Harry Butler arrived back as Marler dropped something on
Tweed's desk. Newman stood up and alongside Paula he
stared at the metallic object. A large cartridge case neither
recognized.

'I now know who tried to kill you on the A303,' Marler
said in his offhand way.

'What is it?' Tweed asked.

'A specially moulded cartridge for a deadly French
assassin called Charmian. No one's been able to identify this
killer for hire. At a price. A high one.'

'You're sure?' Tweed persisted.

'Of course I am. I also know the gun maker in Paris. He
was drunk when I last called on him, let slip Charmian's
name when he swept some of these cartridges into a drawer.
This is off the record. If Charmian finds out, the gun maker
is dead.'

'So where did you find it?'

'Inside that fir tree on the isolated hill from where he
aimed at you. It's all getting very French.' He went over to the wall, leaned against it, lit a cigarette.

'You are going to tell me what that means?'

'Why not? On my way down there I kept a meeting with
Marin, my best informant in Europe.'

'That's his name?' asked Tweed.

'Such naivete,' Marler mocked good-humouredly. 'Of
course not. That's his code name. You know how carefully
I protect my informants.'

'I suppose we're going to hear what he told you before we
get to midnight,' Tweed rapped back.

'He says a ship's picking up crew from the He des Oiseaux
close to the famous Chateau d'If island off Marseilles. Then
it's on its way to collect long-range missiles from
somewhere in Europe. Angora is becoming very aggressive.
It has long-range rockets obtained from North Korea. Kim,
the mad dictator of North Korea, was cunning. Too cunning. So the rockets travelled to Angora some time ago. Then Kim
sent the missiles later on a different ship - which collides with an American destroyer in the Sea of Japan. Ship with
the load of missiles sinks to bottom of the sea. Kim
demanded Angora paid for the lost missiles and the ship. Angora has refused and has found another source.'

'Where?' asked Tweed grimly.

'Source unknown. Marin's sending me a coded signal
when you should visit the island. Heavily guarded.'

'I once visited Marseilles a long time ago.' Tweed stood
up, wandered over to the windows, hands inside his trouser
pockets. Paula knew the stance. Tweed was concentrating
furiously. He stopped, looked down at Newman.

'You see. My instinct was right. This murder case is the
tip of a huge iceberg, a major conspiracy, I sense. I have a lot
of loose links I have to join up to form a chain. I want to
locate Gantia's armaments factory.'

'Ask Lucinda over dinner tomorrow night,' Paula
suggested. 'Late in the meal. And Keith Kent has again
confirmed my dinner with him tomorrow night. He's
wrestling with that sheaf of accounts
I found in Christine's
flat.'

'I'm going home,' Tweed decided. 'I want to think hard.'

'I'll drive you to your flat,' Newman said firmly. 'No walk
for you tonight. Not after Charmian's bullet missed by
inches.'

'I love babysitters,' Tweed grumbled. 'You have no option.' Newman told him.

Tweed, unusually, arrived at his office the following day in
the early evening. He had spent the late afternoon with Anne
in Champton Place. She had seemed more settled, greeting
him with a smile.
'

'I do appreciate your sending two of your team,' she
began. 'Pete - that is, Mr Nield — is clearing up in the
kitchen after cooking me a meal. And Harry Butler's
turned this place into a fortress, which makes me feel
much safer.'

They were seated in her living room as she spoke rapidly, her manner almost relaxed. Tweed avoided any reference to
her visit to Saafeld's morgue to identify Christine. Nield
appeared with a tray of tea, then left them alone.

'I feel rather a fool,' Anne went on. 'There's something I
should have told you about earlier. It completely slipped my
mind because of
...
yesterday.'

'Better late than never,' Tweed assured her cheerfully. 'I'm all ears.'

'This goes back over three months ago, when I started
to worry about Christine's absence. I called an ex-
boyfriend who was a policeman and asked him if he could
recommend a good private investigator. He immediately
gave me details of a John Jackson. Said he'd been an
inspector, a clever one. Jackson had resigned because he
couldn't stand the politics, then established his own
agency.'

'You did say
John
Jackson?' Tweed queried.

John was the fourth name on the typed list found inside
Michael's pocket.

'Yes, that's right. He gave me his address and phone
number. His office is in Parson Street, Shadwell. Down in
the docks area, I gathered. I called him, told him what it was about. I suppose my voice was a bit shaky. When he arrived
here he brought me a small bunch of lovely flowers. I was quite touched. I answered all his questions, gave him fifty
pounds as a deposit. He gave me a receipt. His details are on
this card.'

Tweed took the card, a modest affair but well printed.

John Jackson Agency, Private Investigator. 159 Parson
Street, Shadwell, East London. Marital problems not
accepted.

'May I keep this?' Tweed asked.

'By all means. He sent me a brief confirmation that he was
acting on my behalf. That's the last I ever heard from him.
He struck me as very intelligent and honest. I don't think
he'd pocket my fifty pounds and then disappear. I hope he
hasn't had an accident.'

'Did you phone his office to try and contact him?'

'Twice. Both times I got an answerphone. I hate those
things. I didn't say a word each time. Then I gave up.' Anne
smiled wanly. 'Sometimes I think I give up too easily.'

'You did try twice. So Nield is looking after you?'

'Oh, yes. He's so helpful. I'll miss him, but I do
understand you need him.'

'He can stay for a day or two longer, unless I run into an emergency. I'll just have a word with him before I go.'

'Oh, how much do I owe you for all of Mr Butler's work? I'll give you a cheque now.'

'No you won't.' Tweed stood up. 'We have a large fund
at my disposal for just such situations,' he lied. 'Don't
hesitate to call me if something develops - or worries you
in any way.'

When Tweed arrived back at Park Crescent, wearing his grey suit, most of his team were there as he took off his overcoat.
It was 6 p.m. Paula eyed him up and down.
'Lucinda will swoon when she sees you.'

'That I doubt very much.' He looked at Paula closely.
She was wearing an electric-blue two-piece with a striking
petal-shaped jewelled brooch - a birthday present he'd
given her. 'It's Keith Kent who won't be able to take his
eyes off you.'

'When you two have finished admiring each other.' Marler
began in a lordly tone, 'maybe I could report on
developments.'

'Fire away.' said Tweed from behind his desk.

'Marin, my informant, has now left for the Continent.'

'Nice and vague.' Tweed commented.

'I hadn't finished. His guess is he'll want you to travel to
Marseilles in about a week to ten days from now. We go by
train. Marin insists on that. The French Secret Service are
photographing all passengers alighting from aircraft - and
they'd recognize you. Might even follow us.'

'Not exactly a holiday.' Tweed checked his watch. 'I'm off
to Santorini's in a minute. Traffic's terrible and I want to be
there on time.'