The Main Chance (9 page)

`Led me into her bedroom, saying the view was best seen from there. Then she tried to seduce me. She's strong but I managed to push her off.'

`And she was furious, even ferocious?'

`Oddly enough, no. She was calm, perfectly controlled. She took me along the corridor to show me Pike's Peak. A very unusual mountain — well, a huge hill. Shaped like a cone at the summit. Sheer sides. Nothing grows on it. I most certainly wouldn't attempt to climb it, not for a thousand pounds.'

`Lavinia?'

`Well...' Tweed paused. 'Certainly with the exception of Bella, the cleverest, most controlled person there. I must admit I had trouble reading her. Staring into those enormous glowing blue eyes I couldn't see what was behind them. Strong-willed.'

`And very attractive,' Paula suggested. 'Clever? She is a forensic accountant. The tops.'

`So is Crystal, and she's younger,' he remarked.

`What about the other director, Warner Chance, the father of Leo and Crystal? He's so quiet.'

`Again, excluding Bella, possibly the strongest and the most enterprising character in the whole set-up. I do suspect that he secretly despises Marshal.'

`Two incidents keep coming back into my mind,' Paula mused. 'I was struck by Bella's last comment — "to come and protect our treasure".'

`I noticed that wording.'

`But when you quoted Bella downstairs Snape was appalled. He almost shouted hysterically, "She said that to you!" Most odd, I thought.'

`So did I.'

`What does it all mean?' Paula wondered.

`Haven't a clue. Place is like a time bomb ready to explode.'

`Well, we won't be there if it happens. What about Snape?'

`Something odd there. I phoned a friend at the MoD while you were out. He served in Bosnia, was accused of shooting two unarmed Muslims in the back. The only witness was discredited and Snape was exonerated. Soon afterwards he voluntarily transferred to the Engineers. May have felt he was under a cloud. One thing I'm sure of — he knows more about what is going on there than anybody.'

And that weird business about the gold,' she went on.

`I'll know more about that when I've consulted Bob Newman. After all, he is a reporter, or was before he joined us.'

Tweed suppressed a yawn and Paula realized she'd been asking him questions for a long time. She got up to clear the table and Tweed insisted on helping her. When they had arrived at the house he had taken off his jacket and tie to feel more relaxed.

`Time for bed,' she told him when they had completed the clearance.

`I think so,' he agreed, suppressing another yawn. `When you can I'd like you to draw an Identikit picture of the head of Mr Evelyn-Ashton, who you met at the Duke's Head. You did spend time at art school in the evenings once.'

`I'll do it first thing tomorrow while he's fresh in my mind.'

Forcing himself to undress, Tweed flopped on the bed. The moment his head hit the pillow he was fast asleep.

Paula was restless. The nerve-racking episode with Evelyn-Ashton kept intruding. She could see his face perfectly, the weird change in his attitude before he confessed why he was really there. She crept into the drawing room. From a drawer she took out an artist's pad of cartridge paper, some sticks of charcoal. She sat down in front of a desk and began. She worked confidently and the sketch was completed in half an hour. She stood up, studied it under the shaded desk light.

`Got you, Mr Evelyn-Ashton,' she murmured to herself. 'First time.'

Which was when she heard a car crawling along the street below. She parted the closed curtains carefully. A brown Ford was stopped. She saw the driver jump out, then arch his right hand back like a cricketer about to lob a ball. Under the light of a street lamp she saw the face clearly. Mr Evelyn-Ashton. She heard the shattering of glass as the object crashed through into Tweed's bedroom.

She ran to the door. Tweed, who woke swiftly, was already out of bed. He had automatically switched on his bedside lamp. By its illumination she saw an object on the carpet shaped like a massive pine cone. A grenade.

`
Get back into the bloody living room!
'

She was frozen still. Frozen with terror for Tweed's life. He rushed forward, bent down, grabbed the object, hurled it out through the window. They both waited for the detonation. The silence was only broken by the sound of the brown Ford racing away up the street.

`I'm calling Harry,' Tweed said. 'He's the explosives expert.'

`What actually happened?' Paula wondered.

`Harry will tell us. After that I'm getting dressed.

Won't sleep tonight.'

`Neither will I.'

She fetched a dustpan and brush while Tweed was phoning. She swept up the broken glass, including tiny shards.

When she entered the kitchen, Tweed, fully dressed, was preparing toast, boiled eggs, orange juice and coffee for an early breakfast.

During their meal they heard Harry's square steel- plated truck arrive. Paula got up, rushed to the window. Tweed followed at a steady pace. Looking out, they saw the truck parked and Harry, carrying a metal box in one hand, a powerful torch in the other, walk towards the object lying in the road.

He picked it up after shining his torch on it, raised it to his ear, shook it, placed it inside the metal box. Paula never ceased to be amazed by Harry's insouciance in such situations. Looking up he saw them peering out, walked to the front door which Paula had darted down to open. Tweed followed at his normal deliberate pace.

`Morning folks,' Harry greeted them. 'Grenade? It was a dud. No hole to pull out the pin. A frightener. See you later...'

`They knew which window to throw it through,' Tweed commented. 'They know too much,' he concluded as they went back up to the first floor.

`I saw who threw the thing,' Paula told him, producing her charcoal sketch. 'I saw him. Evelyn-Ashton. Here he is.'

`When we get to Park Crescent have a photocopy made for all the members of the team so they'll know who they're looking for.'

The time bomb at Hengistbury predicted by Tweed had detonated within minutes of their arrival at Park Crescent.

9

Paula just had time to obtain photocopies of her sketch of Evelyn-Ashton, then distribute one to every member of the team. Tweed had explained to them tersely the significance of Evelyn-Ashton. 'Very much doubt that's his real name...'

`Commander Roy Buchanan needs to see you very urgently,' Monica broke in after answering the phone. `On the phone, you mean?'

`No, he's just arrived, waiting downstairs.'

`Ask him to come up.'

Paula stood up from her corner desk. Marler, leaning against the wall near her, was by her side when she looked out of the window. An unmarked police car was parked below. Behind it stood a gleaming Rolls-Royce.

`That Rolls belongs to Professor Saafeld, the eminent pathologist,' she whispered. 'I don't like this a bit.'

Commander Buchanan came into the office. Tall and lanky, in his late forties, he was an old friend of Tweed's. Paula had expected him to be wearing his uniform as Commander of the Anti-Terrorist Squad. Instead he wore a dark grey business suit. Normally his expression was amiable but now it had a grim set to it. He ignored an armchair, picked up a hard-backed chair, planted it in front of Tweed's desk, folded his arms.

`I am the bearer of grim tidings,' he warned as he placed his briefcase by the chair.

`Then tell me,' Tweed said calmly.

`Mrs Bella Main has been murdered in her study at Hengistbury Manor. The method used is strange and quite horrific.'

A rare and heavy silence descended on the office. They were all staring at Tweed. He had been told about a number of hideous events and his expression had always been impassive. Not this time.

He sat very still, almost like a statue. Brief flashes of different emotions crossed his face. Something akin to grief. Fury. A distant gaze as though he was recalling his interview with Bella, a woman he had admired and liked. Admired for her character, for her brainpower. Eighty-four years old. He'd thought she might live to be a hundred.

`She was so regal,' Paula said very quietly, 'so courteous:

`
Regal!
That's the word for her,' Tweed agreed, suddenly alert again. 'Her murderer must be tracked down however long it takes, no matter what risks it may involve.'

was just about to ask you,' Buchanan began, 'to take over as chief investigator of the case.'

`I'll do it,' Tweed said quickly.

`I have brought Professor Saafeld with me. He is waiting downstairs in the visitors' room.'

`What the hell has he been parked in that cell for?' `His idea, not mine,' Buchanan said quickly. 'He

thought I should tell you first. He knew Bella. He had a phone call from her about you after you'd left. She was very fond— I mean she had developed an admiration for you. Now,' he went on briskly, opening his briefcase, producing papers, 'in this case you have full powers, even an authorization of the fact signed by the Assistant Commissioner, together with a search warrant covering the whole of Hengistbury Manor and its three-hundred-acre estate called The Forest - or the large chunk of it belonging to the Manor.'

Tweed was examining the thick sheets of paper Buchanan had placed on his desk. The Assistant Commissioner's signature flourished at the bottom of both documents.

`Also,' added Buchanan, 'you have the full backing of the Home Secretary.'

`Who could be one of Bella's depositors,' Tweed said with a smile, his normal iron self-control now recovered.

`I wouldn't know.'

`With all this power I detect a political element.'

`Well...' Buchanan hesitated. 'Certain Ministers are concerned that the Main Chance Bank could now be bought out by an immensely rich and ruthless gentleman — who might then use his ownership of this powerful organization to go on to bid successfully for one of our Big Four banks. Which would practically give him control of the country.'

`He is British?'

`No.'

`He originates from the East?'