The Savage Gorge (23 page)

'Drinks?' she offered as they sat down. 'I'm on
vodka - helps me plough through dull work. Vodka for
both of you? Or coffee or tea?' She glared at Margot.
'What are you hanging around for? They've come to
see me.'

'Actually,' Tweed said firmly, 'I need to talk to both
of you together. And I'd like a small glass of
Chardonnay, if that's possible.'

'For me too,' Paula said quickly.

'Coming up . . .'

Sable was more daringly dressed than her sister. As
she bent to fetch a bottle, bending to a lower shelf, her
short skirt rode up, exposing most of her excellent
legs. Her blouse dipped, showing the tops of two well-
shaped bosoms. She came back with two glasses on a
silver tray.

'I think I'll have Chardonnay too,' Margot chipped
in.

'Well, you know where the bottle is,' snapped Sable
but Margot was already helping herself.

When she came back she sat next to Paula. She
adjusted her skirt to cover her elegant knees. Sable was now seated in an imposing carver chair on the
other side of the desk, elevated above them.

'Cheers!' said Margot, raising her glass. 'Now, how can we help you?'

'I have detected in this house an atmosphere of
unease,' Tweed began. 'Have you any idea what causes
it? One person? If so, who?'

'This is a house of hatred,' Sable burst out. 'We all
have to fight our corner to survive,' she said viciously.
'Father is a problem. Sometimes moody - once said
he wished we'd never been born . . .'

'That's a wild exaggeration,' Margot protested.

'At other times he's so generous with presents.' She
touched the expensive diamond brooch attached to
her blouse, gazed maliciously at Margot.

'I'd say,' Margot insisted, 'we're just an average
family who have disagreements now and again.'

'Bollocks!' Sable burst out again.

'Our guests are accustomed to using decent lan
guage,' Margot said quietly.

'All right!' Sable shouted, then quietened down.
'I apologize for using the word.' She glared at
Margot. 'It would be my older sister to pick me up
on that.'

'I'm one year older than Sable,' Margot said, again
quietly.

'What do you both think of your brother, Lance?'
Tweed asked.

'He's a pain
—' Sable began.

'He keeps to himself,' Margot explained.
'Understandable being so out-numbered by sisters.'

'Does he go to London frequently?' Tweed said, speaking rapidly, determined to get quick answers before either sister could think.

'Frequently,' replied Margot.

'When he's not fooling around with the local talent,'
sneered her sister.

'I gather he's determined under no circumstances to
be the next Lord Bullerton . . .'

'Inside this house,' Sable said. 'But he keeps quiet in
the Village, in Gunners Gorge and round the country
side.'

'Why would he do that?' rapped out Tweed.

'Because,' Sable said with an unpleasant grin, 'it
impresses the aristo girls he lures to his flat. The clots think it's great to spend a night or two with the future
Lord Bullerton.'

'Aristo
girls?' queried Tweed.

'Members of the aristocracy,' Sable explained. 'The
horsey set. Quite a few are my friends so I hear what's
going on. Margot is never asked to their parties,' she
concluded triumphantly.

'Don't know them,' Margot remarked coolly. 'Don't want to. I don't like horses. Don't ride. Bit of a bore.'

'Fact is,' Sable elaborated as she hitched her jumper higher, 'no one would dream of inviting her. Not their
circle.'

'Where does Mrs Shipton come from?' Tweed
asked suddenly.

He's using his tactic, Paula thought, of changing the
subject without warning to throw people off balance.

'Mrs Shipton?' Sable echoed vaguely.

'Yes, Mrs Shipton,' Tweed repeated emphatically.
'My question was clear enough.' He turned to
Margot, who nodded before she replied.

'We really have no idea. She just turned up when
Father was desperate for someone to run the house.'

'So,' Sable broke in, annoyed that the attention had
swung away from her, 'he offered her the crown
jewels by way of a salary and she accepted. As to where she comes from I have no damned idea. Oh,
excuse me.'

'You have both been most helpful,' Tweed said,
rising. 'I am grateful for the time you've given us. Tomorrow Paula and I are travelling to London for a
couple of days before we come back. I have to check
the situation at HQ.'

They had reached the closed door when Sable
darted ahead of them so beat Margot to opening it.
Tweed pressed one hand against it and fired his last
shot. 'Lord Bullerton, does he often travel to
London?'

'Very often,' Sable said before Margot could reply,
'says he's going on business for a few days.' She

smirked. 'I've seen the business, so-called. I was in
Mayfair once, saw him chatting up an attractive
woman in a tight dress. Then they disappeared
together into a very expensive block of fiats where the
"lady" probably has a suite. I suppose he has to have
his fling regularly. Bet it's a different woman each
time. He's too smart to risk being tied to one woman even for what he's needing, being a man.'

Glancing back as they left the room, Paula saw
Margot with her eyes raised to heaven at Sable's crude
way of expressing herself. She gave Paula a lovely
smile and a little wave of her hand.

'Was it worth it?' Paula asked as they drove away.

'I found it very significant what Margot said, even
more so what Sable said.'

'And you're not going to tell me yet?'

'Not until I'm sure I'm right. Incidentally, how long would it take you to get packed for immediate depar
ture?'

'One minute. I'm always packed for any emer
gency.'

'Good. Because as soon as we get back to the Nag's
Head we're driving south to Marler's boat and sailing to Noak. That talk about leaving tomorrow was camouflage. I'm sure Sable won't be able to help spilling
the beans to someone. Marler has been alerted. He's
warned Harry. I don't want MacBlade or Falkirk to
know . . .'

As they arrived back at the garage, Marler appeared
from nowhere with Harry. He told Tweed they were ready to leave now. Looking at Paula he smiled.

'Hope you don't mind riding as my passenger in my
Maserati - on the motorway for a lot of the trip.'

'I’
d love that,' she fibbed as her stomach flipped.

'Tweed drives the Audi with the armour plate and armoured glass, taking Harry as passenger.'

He broke off as Lance walked in from the hotel.
He wore a long white pullover and plaid trousers. He
greeted them with a warm smile.

'Off somewhere, are we?'

'To London. Tomorrow,' Tweed said quickly. 'We're
checking the state of our transport.'

'You'll be coming back, I hope?'

'At the latest two days after tomorrow,' Tweed
assured him.

'I mustn't linger. Busy day ahead of me.'

As he spoke he jumped on a brand-new Harley-
Davidson motorbike and left the garage at speed,
driving up the High Street. Paula watched him as he pulled in at a house halfway up the street, ran to the
door, which was opening. A tall well-built blonde
appeared holding a shopping carrier. She kissed him,
he patted her on the rump, she walked away as he
closed the door.

'Another
arista
victim,' Paula commented. 'Bet he's packing her bag, ready to dump it on the doorstep . . .'

'I've got the special weapons you suggested,' Harry
reported to Tweed.

'Time to move,' said Tweed.
'Now!
'
He looked at
Marler. I’d like to know where we're going.'

'Seaward Cove, border of Somerset and Devon.
We'll be there before night. Cove is remote, size of an
oyster shell. . .'

EIGHTEEN

With Marler at the wheel and Paula beside him, Hobartshire passed in a flash as they headed south.
Turning onto the motorway, Marler pressed his foot
down.
They flew.

As far as Paula could tell, Marler kept just within all
speed limits - she knew he had an instinct for speed
traps. The drive was an experience she would never
forget. Scenery passed in a blur - rolling green hills, a
dense wood, a vast rocky quarry where strange
machines prowled. Marler, wearing tinted goggles, had
long ago passed her a pair to counter the searchlight
glare of the sun burning out of an endless blue sky.