by Colin Forbes
The gates were already swinging open inwards. Slowly Tweed drove forward. In his rear-view mirror he saw them already closing behind him.
`Must be the finest example of Elizabethan architecture in England,' he commented.
`Fabulous,' Paula almost gasped. 'And so is the park.'
On either side of the drive stretched trim green lawn. On their left a tall fountain jetted high into the air, forming the letter 'H'. To their right the lawn was narrower, and beyond it The Forest's giant firs closed in as though ready to swallow up the park. Paula found them sinister.
`Nothing disturbing, I'm sure,' Tweed remarked. `Don't be too sure,' Paula responded in a quiet voice.
2
Tweed parked near the base of a wide flight of marble steps leading up to a spacious terrace which ran the full length of the mansion. Other cars were parked nearby, including a large black stretch limousine. A uniformed chauffeur with a sneering expression stood by it and ignored the new arrivals.
Arriving on the terrace with Paula, Tweed noted all the small windows had leaded lights. At the top of the staircase was the entrance, a pair of large heavy mahogany doors. The left-hand door opened, and a tall good-looking man in his thirties walked out briskly to greet them. He wore a smart black suit, the trousers sharply creased, the jacket almost reaching his knees and a stiff, peaked collar. The uniform of a servant.
`Mr Tweed and Miss Grey, you are most welcome guests. I will lead the way. You could say I was the butler.'
The voice was the same cut-glass accent which had called to them through the speaker-phone.
`Isn't he sure of his status?' Paula whispered humorously as they followed the erect figure inside.
`Shh,' Tweed reprimanded her as they entered a vast square hall with a woodblock floor. In three walls he could just make out closed mahogany doors. The butler led them to a door in the right-hand wall, paused, his hand on the door handle.
`I am Snape, sir. You are most punctual. Mrs Bella Main sends her apologies. She will not be long but one of her important clients arrived without an appointment.' His tone was disapproving. 'She will send him packing very shortly. This is the library.'
They entered another large room, the walls lined with bookcases, the shelves neatly stacked with leather-bound volumes. In an arch-shaped opening a log fire blazed and Paula welcomed the warmth: she was already finding the mansion claustrophobic. The only illumination came from the fire. Hardly any light from outside penetrated the room through the small windows.
A tall man, probably in his late forties, hurried across to meet them. He wore an expensive blue pinstriped suit; his shirt was pristine white, his tie Chanel. White cuffs decorated with gold links protruded from his sleeves. He was smiling and there was something dominant in his jutting jaw.
`I am Marshal Main, managing director of this outfit. You are the most interesting visitors we've had in a long time.'
`Why?' asked Tweed as Main shook hands with both of them.
`What can we offer you in the way of refreshment? I think just about anything is available.'
`Coffee would be pleasant,' Tweed replied.
`Me too, please', added Paula.
`How do you like it, sir?' enquired Snape, standing behind them as erect as a sentry.
`Black as sin. So does Paula.'
`Well —' Main burst out laughing — 'you're in the right place. Plenty of sin round here. Come and sit down.' He took Paula's arm, squeezed it, staring at her. She didn't like it.
As Snape left, closing the door silently, Main escorted them to an antique table circled with four armchairs near the fire. Paula was watching a woman further down the library. She was standing behind a hard-backed chair, listening quietly.
She was in her late thirties, Paula estimated, and extremely attractive. Slim, she had long beautifully coiffeured black hair reaching her shoulders. Her eyebrows were thick and below them her features were perfectly sculpted. Her eyes were large, her nose was straight and just long enough above a firm mouth and determined chin. She smiled at Paula, who immediately smiled back.
Main, who seemed to miss nothing, jumped up swiftly. All his movements were agilely quick.
`Oh, my God! I'm forgetting my manners. Lavinia, do come and join us.' He slid a spare armchair in between Tweed's and Paula's. "This is Lavinia, my daughter. She's my heart's desire.'
Tweed thought the words odd as Lavinia settled herself next to him. She smiled, gazed at her father.
`Just so long as you don't try and carry that too far.'
`Why?' Tweed again asked Main.
`What?' he replied, puzzled
`Mr Tweed is referring to your remark that we have the most interesting visitors we've had in a long time. Probably he's wondering if you say that to everyone who comes here,' she chaffed him in her appealing soft voice.
`Stuff and nonsense!' he barked, briefly annoyed. Turning to Tweed he exuded amiability again. 'Because you are Deputy Director of the SIS — and you've brought with you the lady you place most trust in. Also I can tell already you both have exceptional intellects and brainpower.'
`Bella always does her homework before she agrees to meet here,' Lavinia said.
`She always tries to counter me,' Main said irritably. `I just like accuracy,' Lavinia told him.
`Which is why,' Main told them, 'she is the chief accountant.
Snape appeared with a silver tray with the coffee. Placing small mats in front of Tweed and Paula, he poured from a large silver coffee pot. The china was Royal Doulton. Snape looked at Lavinia.
`Nothing for me,' she told him.
Snape had just left silently when the room exploded. The door was flung open, banging back against the panelled wall. A young woman flew into the library. Late twenties, Paula estimated. Long red hair, a pretty face with sensuous lips and staring green eyes. Lavinia leaned close to Paula, whispered.
`Sorry about this. She's a bit wild.'
Paula turned round. The redhead wore a low-cut top held up by thin shoulder straps. She had a good figure and wore well-pressed jeans. Paula found herself comparing her attire with Lavinia's: she wore a brown skirt which just reached her knees, and above that was a dark velvet jacket, half-zipped up. Underneath was a white blouse buttoned up to the neck. One hell of a contrast with what had just blown in.
The redhead darted forward, placed both hands on Tweed's shoulders. She was smiling broadly. Her voice was educated and husky as she spoke, hands still resting on Tweed.
`Since no one had the manners to invite me to the party, and no one's introducing me, I'll introduce myself. I am Crystal.' Her voice, aggressive when she arrived, was now quite calm. 'Daughter of the managing director. Not this one.' She glared at Marshal Main. 'My father is Warner Chance. Guess he'll be down in a minute.'
`Get yourself a chair, Crystal,' Lavinia invited. 'Join us.'
`I'm going to show Mr Tweed Pike's Peak. It's unique.' She bent down, her mouth close to Tweed's ear. 'Only view is from upstairs. A quick trip.'
Tweed stood up. He was curious to see more of the mansion and guessed his only opportunity was to accompany Crystal.
`Do excuse me. This sounds a rare sight.'
He followed her to the door which had been closed by Snape. They crossed the hall after Crystal had silently closed the library door behind them. At the rear of the hall she opened double doors with a flourish, stood back.
`It really is rather impressive,' she said in her calm voice.
He had to agree. About twenty feet beyond, a wide magnificent staircase with Elizabethan-style banisters mounted to the first floor. High up was a landing and here the staircase split to the right and to the left. When they reached the landing Crystal led the way up the right-hand section. They turned off a spacious landing and continued down a corridor with a window at the far end. She stopped by a door, took out a key, unlocked the door.
Tweed walked in ahead of her, then stopped. He was standing inside a bedroom with a large canopy bed. Behind him h
e heard her lock the door. Swinging round, he found her close to him, grinning. His voice was grim as he spoke to her.
`So where's the view of Pike's Peak?'
`That comes later.'
She did two things at once. Her hands slipped the shoulder straps down over her shoulders and arms. Her foot slid between his, her leg shoved against his knees. Caught off balance, he fell back on the bed and she was on top of him, speaking at machine-gun speed.
`I like a mature man. The kids have no finesse!'
Her full breasts were half-exposed. She was clawing at his clothes. He didn't fool with her. His hands grasped her bare shoulders, his grip firm. She was strong but he was stronger. He sat up, jerked her hard, pushed her off the bed, stood on the floor himself. A brief expression of disbelief crossed her face. She took a step towards him and he slapped her hard across the side of her face. She blinked.
`I liked that,' she said.
`Get yourself properly dressed. And fast!'
He walked to a cheval mirror, straightened up his clothes. Behind him she was slipping the straps back into their original position. He turned round.
`Your top was higher. Deal with it.'
He walked to the door while she obeyed him. He had turned the key when she ran up alongside him, rested a hand lightly on his arm. She shook her head, then spoke in a calm voice.
`Let me check the corridor. Make sure Snoop isn't prowling.'
`Snoop?'
`Snape. They got his name wrong. He snoops. When I am away I lock my door, take the key with me. Give me a sec.'
Unlocking the door, she strolled out slowly. She looked in both directions. Then she beckoned to him.
`Coast is clear.' She went on talking as she locked the door. 'I don't expect you to believe me but it wasn't my reputation I was bothered about. It was yours.'
`I believe you,' he said, not wanting to start her off again.
`You'd better see the view quickly. Give you something to talk about when we get back to the library.'
He glanced at her as they walked, a foot's space between them, to the window. She was so calm now, a different woman from what he had experienced in the bedroom. They reached the window and he stared.
The solid Forest stretched half a mile away from the extension he'd observed when coming up the drive. Then it stopped. Beyond it reared up a cone- shaped peak of sheer rock. It reminded Tweed of a miniature Matterhorn. He was so hypnotized by the spectacle he stood gazing at it until Crystal plucked at his arm.
`Maybe we ought to get back downstairs now. Any longer and that so-and-so Marshal will start wondering. Considering his way of life.'
`You're right.'
As they made their way back to the staircase and down it Crystal began talking in the same calm tone.
`Apparently, umpteen years ago a man called Pike owned the land that strange thing is on. Hence it came to be called Pike's Peak. The best hotel in Gladworth carries its name.'
`Gladworth?'
She sat down on a carpeted tread and Tweed sat beside her. He reached to her back, tucked her top into her jeans.
`Thanks,' she said. 'That wouldn't have looked good. Now, Gladworth. Motor down our drive. Get to the gates and you turn left. First place you come to is Gladworth, a very pretty village.'
`I think we'd better get back to the library,' Tweed said, standing up.
They were all there, still gathered round the antique table. In front of Marshal on the table was a bottle of whisky. He had a half-full glass in his hands and he drank the rest as they settled round the table. Paula smiled at Crystal, who smiled back. Tweed began to speak.
"The view was extraordinary. Magnificent and startling – this grim mountain-like rock appearing above the trees.'
`I was telling Mr Tweed its history. How a man called Pike—'
`She's always gabbling on about something.' The insult came from a tall heavily built youth who had just entered. In his early twenties, he had thick fair hair and a longish face with a sneering mouth. He was sloppily dressed in a white pullover half inside and half outside his baggy jeans. His manner had bully written all over it. Tweed glanced at Lavinia, was for the first time aware of the deep blue of her large eyes, as blue as the Mediterranean sea in summer. She raised her thick eyebrows.
`Go get me a chair, Crystal,' the youth ordered. Crystal stood up, hands on her hips, glaring at him grimly.
`Everybody,' she said, her voice harsh, 'meet my beloved brother, Leo. Only seven years younger than me and hardly out of his nappies. Get your own chair!' she rasped, walking towards him. He raised a large hand to hit her.
A pair of hands descended on his shoulders from behind. A middle-aged man, shorter than Marshal but more heavily built, he had fair hair, a strong face and an air of self-control. At the first moment he saw him Tweed liked what he saw. Turning Leo round to face him, the man spoke quietly but with an air of authority. `You will now go upstairs. Change into some decent clothes. I'll have a word with you later.'
Leo obediently walked towards the door. When he thought his father wasn't looking he turned, put his tongue out at Crystal.
`Before you go, Leo, apologize to your sister,' the heavily built man said as he walked towards the table.
`Sorry, Crystal. I must be in a bad mood today.'
He left the room as his father was shown to her chair by his daughter. She wheeled another chair close to him. Seated, her father smiled at Tweed.
`An honour to meet you. I am Warner Chance, a managing director.'
Tweed immediately spotted the difference between the two men. Marshal had said the, whereas Warner contented himself with a. It confirmed to him their clashing characters. Warner wore a neat leather jacket, a cravat at his throat and smart blue trousers. Marshal offered his guest a drink of Scotch, which Tweed refused, then refilled his own glass.
`Here's to Mr Tweed taking up residence with us.'
`That would be wonderful,' Crystal said, leaning on her father's shoulder. 'Then we'd have someone to protect us.'
Tweed said nothing and at that moment Snape appeared, erect as a soldier. He paused.
`If I'm not interrupting...'
`Oh, get on with it, man,' Marshal barked.
`Mr Tweed,' Snape said politely, 'and Miss Grey, Mrs Bella sends her apologies and is ready to receive you at your convenience.'
3
Tweed, with Paula on one side and Lavinia on the other, crossed the large, dim hall, following Snape. They appeared to be heading for a panelled wall. Snape turned to speak over his shoulder as he pressed an invisible button in the panelling.
Two sections of the panelling opened away from each other, revealing a large square lift with a dark beige carpet on the floor, almost a shag covering. Snape spoke.
`Mrs Bella has her study on the first floor, sir.' `Then why not use the staircase?'
`Mrs Bella prefers visitors to use the lift.'
As they all walked inside Tweed stared at the carpet. There were deep runnels in the shag as though something wheeled had been taken up. He also spotted signs of a vacuum cleaner being used to eliminate the runnels. Snape pressed the second button up in the control panel. Below it was a brown button. They were climbing slowly, smoothly when Tweed spoke again.
`What is the brown button for, then?'
`Emergency,' Snape replied abruptly with a trace of annoyance.
The lift stopped, the doors opened. They stepped into a wide corridor continuing to their left where it ended in a solid panelled wall. A wall-to-wall deep-pile beige carpet covered the corridor floor. Tweed
observed runnels digging deep into the carpet, broken in sections where a vacuum cleaner had attempted to eliminate them. Snape led them a short distance to their right, opened a door, led them into another large room, whose walls were lined on two sides with bookshelves and more leather-bound volumes. On the third wall were two old oil paintings, portraits of two men dressed in the clothes of long ago.
`Ezra Main and Pitt Chance, fou
nders of the dynasty,' Snape explained as he saw Tweed looking at them.
`Mr Tweed,' Lavinia whispered, 'I shouldn't have come so far. If what you are going to say is confidential I'll pop back downstairs.'
`I'd like you to join us,' Tweed replied, touching her arm.
`Mrs Bella sometimes likes me to take notes,' she whispered back, squeezing her notebook under her arm.
`Mrs Bella,' Snape announced after opening a door, `your guests. Mr Tweed and Miss Paula Grey.'
He bowed, left the room, closed the door. The study was long, the walls panelled and there were leaded- light windows which Tweed, glancing at them, realized looked out straight along the entrance drive. But it was the figure at the far end of the room which gripped him as he walked towards her.
Bella Main, eighty-four years old, sat behind a Regency desk in a tall hard-backed carver chair. Her imposing head and unlined long neck protruded above the back of the chair. He remembered she was over six feet tall.
Her Roman face would be noticed anywhere. Her grey hair was thick, well brushed. Her grey eyes were alert, her nose like a shapely beak, her mouth was firm and she had a good chin. When she stood up to greet them Paula noted she was wearing a fine-cut leather jacket with a white blouse and grey trousers over her king legs. Her grey hair was cut short, her only concession to jewellery a pair of pearl earrings and a brooch with the letters MC in small diamonds attached to her jacket. Coming forward with quick steps to greet Tweed, she hugged him for a few seconds.
It is so good of you to come and see me. My apologies for keeping you waiting. A client who had a
problem he couldn't cope with barged in. I solved the problem and he left a happy man'
Her presence dominated the room without a trace of arrogance. She shook Paula by the hand and her grip was fearsome. She beckoned to Lavinia to sit with her behind the desk as Tweed replied.
`It gave us time to meet most, maybe all, of your family?
`Only part of the problem; she replied as she sat down behind the desk with Lavinia in another chair beside her. 'Now I have to deal with the villain Calouste Doubenkian. I know you come straight to the point and so do I.'