The Cauldron (26 page)

'So the visit to London was worth while.' he said calmly.

'I'd say it sure was. Now we know we have the police on both sides of the Atlantic working for us. I spoke to Chief Inspector Buchanan over the phone - he sounds high-ranking. And he took the trouble to put me on to Tweed who, I guess, works closely with him. That's all for the moment.'

"Thank you. Here's a percentage of the fee I promised.'

He handed her an envelope containing the money in hundred-dollar bills, stood up and walked out.

Joel reappeared to let her out. Contrasting with his normal outfit of a T-shirt and denims, he wore a smart business suit, a clean shirt and an expensive silk tie. He took hold of her arm.

'I know you don't like me ...'

'I've never said or indicated that.'

'OK. But just remember this. Working for VB is no fun. It's a tough job I hold. I'll leave you here - the automatic front door is unlocked and so are the main gates. Drive carefully.'

Linda was off balance. She had never seen this side of Joel Brand. In a daze she continued down the long hall and Byron Landis hurried to catch up with her. He was also well-dressed, carrying an overcoat. He smiled as he came beside her and for the first time since she'd met him he struck her as pleasant, almost attractive.

'Excuse me, Linda,' he said as they continued towards the front door, 'but if you're driving back to Carmel could you take me there? My car has broken down.'

'Of course I could,' she said, after a brief hesitation.

'He just wants to save gas,' Joel's voice echoed down the hall.

She glanced over her shoulder. Brand was standing in the hall some distance back and had obviously heard every word.

'Don't judge everyone by yourself, Joel,' she joked.

Brand grinned, disappeared through a doorway. Outside the huge front door she unlocked her car, invited Landis to sit in the front passenger seat. The accountant had not taken kindly to Joel's remark - she could tell this from his stiff expression.

He soon mellowed as she drove them along the coast road, swinging round the bends with practised ease and as he began talking he became surprisingly amiable.

"There are ten thousand dollars in that envelope VB gave you. Ten per cent of the total payment if you crack the case. Must be difficult for you - trying to find out who killed your own sisters. I don't think VB should have given you the job.'

'Why not, Mr Landis?'

'Byron, please. Because there's too much emotional involvement for you. Let's talk about something else.'

'OK.'

'I need some relaxation from studying figures all day long. Some accountants say the figures talk to them. They don't say one damned thing to me. Think I chose the wrong profession. A lot of people do that. But the job pays well, so I'm stuck with it. No complaints.'

'You're married?' she enquired.

'I was. She took off with a millionaire. Wasn't just the money. He could make her laugh, amuse her. Still, I guess the money also helped. I'm not complaining. She wanted the high life, something I couldn't give her. I'm a loser. I accept that fact.'

'No, you're not, Byron.'

'I'm not a winner. That's for sure.'

'You're in the middle,' she told him. 'Not a bad place to be.'

They chatted for the rest of the drive, Byron cracked a few jokes which made her chuckle. She dropped him in the middle of Carmel.

'Have fun, Byron.' she called out.

'I intend to c'

Standish drove round the corner, parked. Locking her car, she hurried back to the courtyard Landis had disappeared into. Before leaving her car she had put on sunglasses, even though it was dark. She had also changed her green windcheater to a grey one she always kept in the car.

The transformation in her appearance was startling. The courtyard, one of many such maze-like areas in Carmel, was illuminated by old-fashioned lanterns. She walked across the cobbles, checking the apartments above the shops, all closed. No lights anywhere. Puzzled, she moved deeper into the yard and along a narrow alley.

She could hear modern dance music and light flooded out of a doorway at the end of the alley. Over it a flashing sign proclaimed El Soro's. Could Byron have possibly gone to visit a night club? she wondered. Paying the entrance fee, she wandered in, sat down on a chair behind other rows of chairs occupied by young and middle-aged couples. Often a middle-aged man sat by the side of a teenage girl. Then she stared.

Byron was on the dance floor, holding an attractive twenty-something. Fascinated, Standish watched his action, his feet moving expertly. When the music stopped briefly he switched to another girl. Standish paid the waitress for the glass of wine she had ordered. Plenty of other women were wearing sunglasses, so she didn't feel conspicuous.

She watched Byron changing partners frequently. He could dance so well he had no trouble choosing any partner. He also had great stamina, never leaving the dance floor. Standish watched for a while longer, then left.

Running back to her car, she moved it round the corner, parked it where she could watch the exit from the alley. She was interested in seeing what type Byron took away with him. She smoked a rare cigarette while she waited.

Eventually a Yellow Cab pulled up. Byron emerged alone, climbed into the cab, settled himself in the rear seat and it took off. Standish drove home to her apartment on Junipero. While she made pancakes for her meal her brain was racing.

'I thought I knew these people. Joel Brand now with his smile and friendliness. Byron Landis, the dry-as-dust accountant, so I'd thought, he goes out dancing. Really I don't know these people at all...'

At the end of the following day it was dark and Linda Standish was working late on her tax forms for the IRS. She hated forms and she hated tax returns, but the job had to be done. When the figures began to swim before her eyes she decided she'd get a breath of the chill night air.

She was out walking the deserted streets when a grey Audi pulled up alongside her. Vanity Richmond was behind the wheel.

'Hi!' she called out. 'How goes the grim work?'

'Grim work is what I call it.' She knew Vanity was referring to the hunt for her sisters' killers but didn't feel like talking about it. "The IRS,' she said as Vanity climbed out of the car to chat. Tax returns. Stuff them. Haven't seen you recently.'

'I'm just off the flight from London. On my way to the prison and the treadmill.'

"The prison?' Linda queried.

"That's what I call Black Ridge. It's the atmosphere.'

'And the treadmill?'

'Perhaps I'm going too far.' Vanity laughed, raised a hand to push back her red mane. 'VB never stops working - like a hamster on a treadmill. Mind you, I admire his industry. I think I'd better get back. Why don't we have dinner soon? I'll give you a call...'

She slipped back into the Audi and roared off into the night. Vanity had high colour and despite her long flight she had seemed very alert. Linda felt she had now had a break from work and returned to her apartment.

Half an hour later, as she pored over the figures, her door from outside opened and she looked up, surprised to see who had entered.

'Hi!' she said. "There's a pot of coffee, freshly made -pour yourself a cup and I'll be right with you.'

The visitor moved towards the stove, then suddenly slipped behind Linda. Using a razor sharp wire with wooden handles at either end the visitor whipped it round Linda's neck. Linda had no time to call out as the wire ripped through her vocal cords. She uttered a muffled gurgle as the wire was pulled tighter. Tighter. Tighter. She slumped forward over her tax forms in a pool of blood.

17

When it was 10 p.m. in California it was 6 a.m. the following morning in London. Tweed had risen from the camp bed he had slept in at his office, was showered, shaved and fully dressed when Monica arrived. She looked at the camp bed Tweed had folded up and was putting away in a cupboard.

'So it's action stations,' she observed.

Paula arrived a moment later. She observed that Tweed was freshly shaved, looked at Monica.

'He slept here all night?'

'He did.'

'May I ask why you two have arrived here so early?' asked Tweed.

'Because of that call from Jim Corcoran at Heathrow late yesterday evening,' Paula told him.

'I see.'

In response to Tweed's phoning Jim Corcoran he had heard later from the security chief at Heathrow. The call had been terse.

Tweed? As you requested I checked the flight to San Francisco. The passenger list shows a Vanity Richmond boarded BA 287, departing here 1330, arriving San Francisco at 1625, local time. Travelled First Class. OK? I must go now ...'

Tweed had told Paula, Monica and Newman, who had called in to see if there were any fresh developments. Paula had reacted at once.

'Is that the signal you were waiting for?'

'I'm not sure. It does mean that all the main players in this grim game have now arrived in California -including the suspects.' He counted them off on his fingers. 'First, Vincent Bernard Moloch. I suspect Joel Brand is with him - although there's no trace of him passing through Heathrow, but he could have taken a ferry to Brussels or Paris and flown on from either city.'

'Doesn't the Sabena flight from Brussels, bound for the States, stop over at Heathrow?' Paula had queried.

'It does, but if Brand was already aboard it wouldn't show up on the computer. Next, Grenville and Maurice, we know, took the flight to San Francisco earlier. Also on board was Linda Standish. Now Vanity Richmond has gone the same route, yesterday afternoon. We'll wait a little longer.' he had told them...

'Have you had any coffee?' Paula asked.

'No. I was just about to make it.'

'I'll attend to that,' Monica told him.

'And I'll drive to that cafe cab drivers use,' Paula decided. 'I'll bring us breakfast.'

'I could do with some,' said Newman who had just entered the room. 'Better get some for Marler, who is on his way.'

'How do you know that?' Tweed wanted to know.

'Because I phoned him before I left my flat. He was already up. That sudden departure of Vanity worried me, and I told Marler.'

'She hasn't treated you very well, Bob.' Paula commented. 'Dashing off to California like that and not even phoning you.'

'I agree. But she probably received an urgent message from our friend VB to return at once.'

"That's exactly what I think happened,' Tweed interjected. 'I think he's marshalling his top people for some major move. Monica, have we provisional bookings aboard the next flight to San Francisco?'

'I've been booking them every day, then transferring them to the following day.'

'Go on doing that. Alert Butler and Nield. They're to be ready for instant departure...'

There were two weirdly shaped high-rise buildings in the business district of San Francisco. One was the famous Trans-America building, shaped like a tall slim pyramid. The other was the AMBECO building, shaped like a giant cone, circular all the way round and tapering to a point at its summit. Both were among the marvels of the city, their exteriors often viewed by tourists.

The AMBECO building had a curious 'defect' near its topmost point. Normally invisible to the outside world, a giant alcove was cut into it, masked by a huge sliding door. Inside the alcove was a helipad with a chopper always ready to take off at a moment's notice.

Like the Trans-America pyramid, the AMBECO building was perched on massive rollers. The idea was that if an earthquake struck the city both edifices would 'roll' to counter the tremors. In his circular office near the summit - all the offices were circular - Moloch was studying the latest maps Ethan had produced for him.

He was particularly interested in one area of northern California. The phone started ringing, a low squeak.

'Yes.' he said.

'More trouble with Ethan.' Joel reported from Black Ridge. 'Mrs Benyon is ill. Ethan is insisting he has to go and see her.'

'Keep him at Black Ridge.' Moloch said instantly. 'And call my doctor. Tell him to go to Black Ridge and to wait for me. I'm on my way...'

Moloch dealt with every problem in this way. Decisive, he could make up his mind in seconds. He called his chief assistant, gave him a string of orders. Within five minutes he was aboard the helicopter. The giant door slid upwards, the rotors of the helicopter were whirling, the machine was slowly elevated to within yards of the lofty roof, then it moved out, flew across San Francisco to the south.