The Savage Gorge (34 page)

Halfway along the High Street, Marler dipped his
head to gaze up through the windscreen. When they
reached a layby he swung into it, stopped, turned off
the engine.

'Someone is watching from the top of the ridge. Be
back in a minute. Everyone stay in the car . . .'

Diving out, he began climbing rapidly up a steep
gulley. He paused frequently to listen. Nothing. He
continued climbing, avoiding beds of pebbles, which
would make a noise, and made his way up to the
summit over a grassy area. At the top he peered over.
A short distance to his left stood a heavily built man
peering through a large telescope mounted on a
tripod. The telescope was aimed at the caves on the
far side of the Falls.

Marler remained quite still as the man turned his
head, then went back to staring through the telescope.
Marler knew now who and what he was. Dangerous. Very slowly he eased his way across the grass on the
summit. Then he hauled the Smith & Wesson revolver
he had borrowed from Bob Newman out of his shoul
der holster, tucked it down inside his belt.

He suddenly leapt up, ran, his long legs covering the
ground swiftly. His target heard him coming, bent
down to an open satchel on the ground, came up
holding a stiletto-like knife. He swung round. By then
Marler was behind him. The heavy barrel of the
revolver crashed down on his head. As the target
sagged, the barrel descended again with all Marler's
force.

Checking the man as he lay crumpled on the
ground, Marler found no sign of a pulse. A few yards
beyond the telescope on its tripod was a steep, narrow
gulch. Pebbles covered its entrance, then came
smooth rock, ending abruptly where more rocks had
blocked any exit.

Marler lifted the body, hands under its armpits,
dragged it to the top of the gulch, shoved it down. The
corpse slid rapidly down over the pebbles like a tobog
gan. It continued its journey until it hit the blocked
exit and lay still.

Marler threw the dropped knife into the gulch and,
after a quick look, the satchel with neatly arranged
pockets for different knives.

Next he gazed through the telescope, which had a
nightsight. He found he was staring into the shallow
cave at level one on the other side of the Falls.

'Thought so,' he said to himself.

Heaving up the whole apparatus, he flung it into the
gulch. In doing so, one of the tripod legs caught
briefly in a drystone wall perched on the opposite
edge. Several large stones broke loose and fell into the
gulch. Which gave him another idea.

He walked round the top of the gulch, sat down on
the far side, placed his boots against the wall. He
took a deep breath, heaved against it with all his
strength.

The whole wall collapsed into the gulch. It nearly
took him with it. Marler grabbed a gorse bush, which
saved him. Easing himself back from the drop, he

stood up, walked back round the end, peered down.
The dawn light was stronger.

All he could see was a jumbled pile of rocks. No
sign of the body, no sign of the telescope, no sign of
anything. He clapped both hands lightly, then scampered back down the route he had ascended, slipped
behind the wheel.

'What happened?' Tweed asked.

'I
’
d underestimated Lepard's caution. He placed a
chap with a large telescope up there, aimed at the
caves. Purpose - to make sure we hadn't discovered
them and had people checking them out. A nasty
piece of work monitoring the telescope. Chap called
Pearl Kerwald.'

'Pearl is a girl's name,' Paula said.

'A nickname. His technique was to patrol Bond
Street, Mayfair, areas like that. He'd see a well-
dressed woman with a string of pearls round her neck,
grab her from behind, use a sharp knife to cut the
rope near the clasp. There were cases when his knife
slipped and he'd cut her throat. He'd throw her over
the bonnet of a parked car, yell, "Heart attack!" and
disappear.'

'Where is he now?' Paula pressed.

'Somewhere inside that small mountain. They
said twelve thugs coming up. One down, eleven to
go . . .'

'You've tactfully left out the one I had to strangle,'
she told him, squeezing his shoulder.

'OK,' he agreed as he pulled out into the street and

headed north. 'If you insist, two down and ten to
go . . .'

Paula could now hear the muted rumble and roar as
thousands of gallons of water poured down over the
Falls. A good mile further north they passed the old iron
road bridge linking Ascot Row with the High Street.

Paula was staring to her right at the scenic beauty. Vast fields of grass spread out as far as the eye could
see. The endless green she found soothing with the
silence of the open country. Ahead was a huge six-exit
roundabout.

Signposts indicated routes to towns Tweed knew
were a long way north. The fifth exit, as Marler circled
the roundabout, pointed to London.

'That's their escape route,' he remarked. 'Ours too
if it all goes wrong.'

'Be confident,' Paula said sharply.

'A good planner,' Tweed explained to her, 'always
has his escape route worked out.'

They drove slowly back towards the hotel through still
deserted streets. The air remained very crisp. As they
approached a sign with the word Marcantonio's, Archie
MacBlade ran down the steps, waved for them to stop.

'I've booked a table upstairs at the Gold Bowl for all
of you. Breakfast awaits . . .'

'We had it earlier,' Paula protested.

'Sure you're not hungry again?' Archie said with a
warm smile.

Paula suddenly realized she was ravenous. It must
be the air, which had a nip of cold in it. Archie guided
Marler up a narrow street to a car park at the back.
They returned to the front. He led them up a flight of
steps and inside.

'I could eat a horse,' said Harry.

'Not on the menu,' Archie chaffed him. 'You'll
wish there was somewhere like this in London.
Locals come, eat breakfast and then go back home
and sleep ready for the day's riding. They were here
finishing breakfast when you drove past earlier.
Come on . . .'

They entered a tastefully furnished hall and, led by Archie, stepped inside a spacious elevator. The panel
had three buttons. Archie produced a black card, inserted it into a slot, then pressed the top button.

'Can't get to the Golden Bowl without inserting the
card,' he explained.

A small man in evening clothes with a long thin
moustache was waiting for them. He bowed.

'Welcome, Mr MacBlade - and your friends.'

He showed them into a large circular restaurant.
Paula looked up. The ceiling was a golden bowl.
Archie spoke as they sat at a large circular table.

'This is Marco, the owner. The beautiful woman
with him is his sister, Benita.'

'I supervise the kitchen,' she said, looking with a
warm smile at Paula. 'Your orders, please. Anything.'

'Could I have two fried eggs, crispy bacon and fried
potatoes?'

'Of course, ma'mselle.'

Harry ordered three fried eggs with all the trim
mings, and so it went on. Marco returned with a silver
bucket, tripod and a bottle of expensive champagne. Paula stared.

'It is a champagne breakfast,' Archie said. 'The feast
is on me.'

Marco used a towel to wipe the bottle dry, removed
the metal covering then the cork, sniffed it. Tweed was
leaning forward, gazing.

'What's fascinating you?' Paula asked.

'His skill.'

Service of the first-class food was swift. Paula
plunged her knife and fork into a fried egg, cleaned her
plate at the same moment as the others. She had
sipped her champagne and then drunk the whole glass.

Greetings were exchanged with Marco and his
sister. Paula was leaving when Benita gently tucked a
black card inside the top pocket of her leather jacket.

'Welcome at any time,' she whispered in her soft
voice.

Archie remained and they returned to the car. As
they were leaving, Paula and Tweed were now in the
back, and she nudged him.

Tm going back to sleep.'

'So am I,' he said. He paused. 'That is the most
important breakfast I've ever had,' he stated.

'Important?'

'Important.'

TWENTY SEVEN

Paula couldn't get to sleep. She changed position,
tossed and turned. No good. She shouldn't have
drunk that whole glass of champagne. She gave up
trying to sleep.