The Cauldron (48 page)

'You sound surprisingly cheerful now.' Paula observed.

'I am. I have just made up my mind what to do. I'm going to set a trap for The Accountant.'

'How are you going to do that?'

'By providing bait which will be irresistible.'

'What bait?'

Again he made no attempt to elaborate. Rain was streaming down the windscreen like a waterfall, the wipers were finding it difficult to cope. Newman leaned forward, straining to check where he was. It was only because he had driven along Highway One several times that he knew what was coming next. They passed several cars parked illegally, headlights full on - drivers who had felt unable to cope any longer.

Rivers poured across the road, the Merc.'s wheels sent up great gushes of spray. How Newman was able to continue driving was beyond Paula. Alvarez kept stroking his hand over his dark hair, a nervous gesture. Paula's hands were clenched together in her lap. Only Tweed seemed indifferent to the appalling weather conditions.

'We're approaching Carmel,' Newman said eventually. 'It gets a bit wet here, doesn't it?'

The storm withdrew as swiftly as it had blown up. They were just about to pass Mission Ranch when Tweed tapped Newman on the shoulder.

'Slow to a crawl. There are still lights in Mission Ranch. They must have kept the place open because of the storm. See that car just leaving ahead? Grenville is behind the wheel. Follow him.'

Inside the Standish apartment he had rented cheaply -due to the murder, well-publicized - of the previous occupant, Maurice prepared to leave to keep his rendezvous. His lean face was freshly shaven, he wore a smart two-piece suit, and the last thing he did after putting on a trenchcoat, was to pull an object from the inside of his sleeping bag and thrust it into his pocket.

'I'd make a good hippie,' he said to himself, 'but not in the outfit I'm wearing.'

Inside the metal cabinets where Linda Standish had kept her files on previous cases he had found a blank space. All the files had been carted off to police headquarters. Linda had also used the cabinet to store a few clothes. Maurice had found a rail and on one side several good clothes hung from it. On the other were the worn second-hand clothes he'd picked up from a local thrift shop.

He checked his watch again. He would be in good time for his rendezvous with the man who would be coming to meet him. He thanked Heaven the rain had stopped as he left the apartment and walked down the staircase and into the damp night.

'Can't I persuade you to stay?' Moloch asked Vanity in his office. 'If it's a question of money ...'

'It isn't - not now.' She smiled at him as she sat in the chair facing his desk. 'I've accepted a very lucrative job in New York. I've signed a contract.'

'Contracts can be broken.' Moloch persisted. 'I can break any contract.'

'But I can't.' She smiled again. 'You've found me trustworthy. If I broke my word to my new employer then how could you go on trusting me?'

'Which company?'

'I can't tell you that. Secrecy is part of the contract.' She smiled again. 'I'll be here a bit longer. That gives you time to find a replacement.'

'I'll double your pay.'

Vanity shook her red mane, smiled again. 'No can do. And if you're worried I'll break any confidences between us, I won't. Keeping the faith is part of my way of life. And now, if you don't mind, I'm tired and I'd like to get some sleep.'

When she had gone VB spent a long time staring out of his window, watching the great explosions of surf as the ocean broke against the rocks. Out at sea the Baja, large as she was, heaved and tossed under the impact of the storm. He shuddered, went out into the corridor.

From the direction of the marble room where the party was still in progress, he saw Ethan coming towards him. The boffin glared at him, walked past without a word. There had been a fanatical look in his staring eyes which worried Moloch. His whole world seemed to be crumbling.

Going back to his office, he took a trenchcoat from a hook behind the door, put it on quickly, then hurried to the rear of Black Ridge where a Sikorsky chopper waited. A roster of pilots was permanently on duty so he could take off at any time. The pilot dropped to the ground inside the hangar.

'Any instructions, Chief?'

'Yes. Very important. The machine must be kept fully fuelled for take-off at any hour. A pilot must be on duty here round the clock. I'm sending guards to keep everyone else away from the machine. Check the roster now -inform the other pilots ...'

Inside the building he met Hogan, swaggering along a corridor. Hogan noticed VB's pale face looked even paler than usual.

'Make sure a team of guards is on duty at the hangar where the Sikorsky is waiting. Twenty-four hours a day. There's a bonus if you do a real job.'

He hurried back to his office, closed the door, tore off the trenchcoat, hung it from the hook, ran to his desk.

Opening a deep locked drawer, he took out a radiophone. Within minutes he was instructing the pilot of his Lear jet, standing in an outer area at San Francisco International.

'Ben. Ready the jet for a flight to London. Polar route, of course. Stand by for my arrival at any moment.'

35

Grenville seemed so intent on driving to his destination he didn't notice the Merc, following him with dipped lights. There was other traffic about - men and women going home after waiting for the storm to abate - which helped Newman to hide his presence.

'Where is he going?' Paula asked as Grenville entered Carmel.

"That's what we want to find out.' Tweed replied. 'Perhaps he was delayed by the storm. He seems in a hurry to get to wherever he is going.'

'Maybe he's going to the police station on the corner of Junipero and 4th.' Alvarez said sardonically.

'I doubt that.' replied Tweed.

'Well, that's where we are. On Junipero.'

Newman was crawling. He suddenly turned down 5th Avenue, parked just beyond the corner. Tweed and Alvarez were out of the car instantly, followed by Paula. They peered round the corner.

"That's Maurice he's meeting. All tarted up.' Paula exclaimed.

Alvarez had produced a pair of night glasses from his holdall. He focused them, then whistled softly.

'I'm damn sure Maurice just handed Grenville a packet. My guess is the packet contains cocaine. Now Maurice is getting into Grenville's car.'

They ran back to the Merc., told Newman what was happening. He drove back round the corner after making a U-turn, just in time to see Grenville's car disappearing down a turning past the next block. He followed. They then found they were touring the blocks of Carmel, constantly turning in a different direction. After five minutes Grenville parked outside the entrance to a courtyard. Both men left the car, vanished inside the yard.

'Only one place they can have gone at this time of night,' Alvarez commented. 'I know that courtyard. Papa's.'

'Who on earth is Papa?' asked Paula.

'Only the biggest drug dealer on the West Coast. The police have never been able to get anything on him.'

'Does it tell us anything?' she persisted.

'It tells me who the go-between is,' Tweed commented.

'Go-between?' queried Paula.

'Back to Spanish Bay.' Tweed ordered. 'It's vital I get in touch with Cord Dillon.'

They parked in the usual place behind the hotel. Newman was pressing buttons, after elevating the aerial. With not much hope, Tweed grasped the microphone.

Tweed here. Anyone out there?'

'Only me,' Dillon's voice answered. 'What the hell is it?'

'We're planning to leave California in a hurry,' Tweed said, speaking rapidly. 'It could be within the next few days. That's pretty near a certainty.'

'Glad to hear it. I told you to go home.'

'Cord, it will be an emergency exit. I need transport for an unknown number of passengers. An aircraft to take us fast to San Francisco International. The pick-up to be somewhere between Spanish Bay and Big Sur. Precise details of where we are at the last moment.'

'A Chinook.' Dillon replied promptly. 'Day or nighttime pick-up?'

'Could be either.'

Alvarez reached for the microphone, took a firm hold on it. His voice was calm, positive.

'Cord, Alvarez here. When pick-up point is known tell your pilot I'll signal - if it's night - with four flashes, brief interval, four more flashes and so on. If it's daytime, I'll wave my handgun round and round over the top of my head.'

'Got it,' Dillon replied. "The Chinook will arrive Monterey airport within hours, then wait. I have one in your area. Understood?'

'Understood. Thank you.'

'I've heard of a Chinook,' Paula said when Alvarez had placed the microphone back on its hook. 'What exactly is it?'

'Helicopter. Big job. Can carry forty troops. Funny shape. We're in business, Tweed.'

'He didn't ask why you weren't back in Washington,' commented Paula.

'No, he didn't.'

Back in his apartment, Tweed told Paula to check with the concierge that their earlier bookings for a flight to London were being reconfirmed day to day.

'Also add the names Mrs Benyon, Alvarez, and Julie Davenport.'

'Who is this Julie Davenport?'

'My secret weapon. Remember, in the States Julie is sometimes the shortened version of Julian.'

'And I'm not supposed to ask who Julian is?'

"That's right. Also book a seat for Peregrine Hamilton.'

'If you say so. I think I'll do it now. I noticed when we came in the lobby was deserted except for a few staff. No one will be there to eavesdrop on meRIGHT SQUARE BRACKET'

She broke off, on the point of leaving the apartment, when the phone rang. She picked it up, listened, handed it to Tweed.

'It's Hoarse Voice,' she whispered.

'Tweed here.'

He listened, then gestured for Paula to wait. Paula saw him frown, then he listened again. It was quite a few minutes before he put down the phone.

'Yes,' he said, 'do as I suggested.'

'So we are getting out of California?'

'Soon. If we survive. I should send you home now.'

'You know my answer to that. I'm going along to the lobby.'

As she hurried along the corridor the words echoed in her mind.
If we survive
.

On her way to breakfast the following morning Paula met Vanity. She thought the normally exuberant Vanity Richmond looked preoccupied.

'Good morning, Vanity.' she said. 'Another lovely day. What are you doing here? I thought you slept at Black Ridge.'

'I do, but I couldn't do that - sleep, I mean. So I got up early and decided to come here for breakfast.'

'Let's have it together.'

'Great idea.'

'I hear you're leaving your job with Moloch.' Paula said casually as they sat down at a table in Roy's. I'd have thought it would be difficult to get a bigger job than the one you have.'

'Not really. In any case, I feel it's time to have a change. Wanderlust you'd call it, I suppose.'

'Admit it,' Paula teased her, 'you're just a natural career girl.'

For the first time Vanity smiled. They chatted for a while and then Vanity said she had to go to the powder room but she would be back. Left on her own Paula's mind moved into high gear. What was going on?

There was something ominous in the way Tweed had made arrangements for a sudden departure at short notice. Why were the next few days so important? Who were the extra passengers Tweed had asked her to book seats for on the flight home? Why did they need a helicopter to reach San Francisco? And what was the 'bait' Tweed proposed using to trap The Accountant? Paula did not feel at all happy about what was happening.

The odd thing was she had sensed a similar unease in Vanity's attitude. It was as though some sinister unidentified menace was hanging over them. Vanity came back after quite an absence. She picked up her shoulder bag off her chair.

'Sorry, Paula. I've had a call to return to Black Ridge at once. I suppose His Lordship has another mountain of work he wants me to attend to yesterday. Please do excuse me.'