The Cauldron

by Colin Forbes

  Aboard the Venetia Joel Brand was pacing his stateroom. He only looked more cheerful when he heard the chopper coming in to land on the helipad. It had already transported Moloch to Newquay airport. Picking up his case, he turned to Gene Lessinger, who had earlier thrown the sheath which had contained the murder knife into the sea after weighting it.

  'Gene, I'm leaving now in the chopper. It's flying me to Plymouth airport. I'll catch the first available ferry to Roscoff in Brittany.'

  'Does our French organization know you're coming?'

  "The top man over there does. He's arranging for a car to wait for me. I'll be driven to Paris. Once there I'll board the first Air France flight to the States. VB sent me his instructions from the jet after it took off from Newquay airport.'

  'I have a job to do here first.' Gene reminded him.

  To deal with Maurice Prendergast, supposedly retired from Special Branch.'

  I'll use the same method you did with that drunk, Adrian?'

  'Why not? It is a good trademark to put the wind up anyone tracking us. Be careful with Prendergast. He's a pro.'

  'I've worked that out. Then I leave the country?' 'Yes, by the same route I'm taking. I'll get off now.

  My instinct tells me trouble is on the way...'

  When Brand was sitting in the chopper as it took off he saw a police boat approaching the Venetia. He gave it a casual wave and laughed coarsely.

  Tomorrow I'm going to visit Maurice,' Tweed told his team, assembled in Paula's large room. Marler had joined them after making himself scarce when he saw the police cars arriving.

  'Something funny about that ship, Venetia.' called out Paula, standing by the window with the binoculars Marler had loaned her. 'It looks so jolly and inviting with all its lights sparkling. Like a cruise ship.'

  'What's funny about it?' asked Newman as she handed him the binoculars.

  'Focus on the foredeck. There are some pretty large objects covered in canvas. Strikes me they're something VB doesn't want anyone to know he's got aboard.'

  'You're right.' Newman agreed after studying the vessel. 'I can't imagine what they could be, yet they remind me of something.'

  He lowered the glasses, frowning, then recalled Tweed's remark.

  'If you're going to visit Prendergast I suggest an armed team comes with you.'

  'I wanted to make it a quiet visit,' Tweed objected. 'I'll phone him before I go. I memorized his number when we were inside his house.'

  'An armed team is coming with you.' Newman insisted.

  "That poor little man, Adrian Penkastle.' Paula mused. 'He was such a harmless person. Just drank far too much.'

  'Which is probably why he's dead.' Newman said grimly.

  'Well, let's hope we find Maurice Prendergast alive.' Marler commented.

  9

  It was going to be a long night. Tweed was restless, had taken a bath, then got dressed again. He was pacing up and down his room when he heard a tapping on the door. He opened it cautiously, his foot against it. Two in the morning was a curious time for anyone to come calling.

  'Can I come in? I saw the light under your door.' Paula said.

  'Of course.' After letting her in he relocked the door. Paula was wearing a navy blue suit. 'Why aren't you in bed and asleep?' he asked.

  'I might ask you the same question.' she told him as she sat down in a chair.

  Too much to puzzle over.'

  'I thought so - from your faraway expression when you went up to bed. What's troubling you?'

  "The mystery of the same woman coming ashore near Monterey in distant California - the same woman who came ashore here. And in both cases the Venetia was nearby out at sea.'

  'I suppose it was the same woman? I did feel sure it was.'

  'I checked Newman's pictures of the one he tried to rescue here with the Identikit picture you helped create of the Monterey woman. They looked exactly the same to me.'

  'Nice to know I'm not going barmy.'

  'That remark is nonsense - although I could understand it.'

  Tweed stood up, began pacing again as he spoke. Walking always helped him to keep his brain in high gear.

  "The same woman comes ashore on the coasts of two different continents. At an interval of several weeks, which is the time it took the Venetia to sail from Monterey to Falmouth. So the only answer is we're not thinking clearly. It can't be the same woman...'

  He suddenly paused. Watching him, Paula saw a certain look cross his face. She recognized it. An idea which had been swimming deep in his mind had surfaced. He swung round and stared at her.

  'Twins! That explains the extraordinary likeness between the two women...'

  Paula sat dumbfounded. She was wondering why the idea had never occurred to her. She shook her head to clear it, stared again as Tweed went on talking.

  "That's what we should be looking for - on both sides of the Atlantic. Twins. It narrows the field enormously. We'll let Cord know when we can. And Monica can start checking over here.'

  'Checking in what way?'

  'To see if twin women were associated with VB in any way at any time. Just a minute, when the Venetia docked at Monterey, then left quickly, we know VB wasn't aboard. That drunken harbour master told you that.'

  'What's the significance of that?'

  'Joel Brand was aboard - you saw him come ashore with a team of thugs at Octopus Cove. And VB was probably at Mullion Towers when Newman found the woman who swam in to the cove below us. Brand could have been aboard again. Which fits in with another bizarre theory I've pondered.'

  'What's that?'

  "The disappearance of seven of VB's close girl friends who have never been found.'

  'I don't quite follow that.'

  'I won't bother to explain now -1 could be wrong.'

  'Do you know.' Paula said with a smile, 'that when you go mysterious with me you can be the most irritating of men?'

  But Tweed hardly heard her. He went on talking, his brain racing.

  "The next urgent problem is Maurice Prendergast. I'm sure he is the new target - after Penkastle. I'm going to call him now, tell him we're on our way to see him.'

  'At this hour? It's nearly two in the morning.'

  'Like me, Maurice works through the night when he has to. He'll be up ...'

  Tweed was careful not to use names when he got through to Prendergast, but the latter recognized his voice. He was indeed up working and said he'd be very glad to see them. He used the phrase, 'Yourself and your right arm, presumably? Good ...'

  'Newman will be furious,' Paula warned. 'He said that you needed an armed escort.'

  'I don't want one. Bob will be fast asleep. We'll slip out quietly through the back way. I know how to unlock the door. I checked it earlier...'

  They drove off quietly up the drive, heading for Mawnan Smith and the 'rabbit warren' lane which led down to Forth Navas. They had just left when another car took off after them. The police cars had driven away earlier.

  Gene Lessinger was on his way by car to Forth Navas. He had decided to deal with Prendergast. While aboard the Venetia he had grown nervous with Brand gone, safely on his way. The police launch which had put men on to the ship had given up the search for Joel Brand, convinced he had escaped in the helicopter they had seen leaving the vessel before their arrival.

  But having police on the ship had made Gene feel that he'd better get on with the job, then fly to Plymouth to wait for the ferry to Roscoff. Before leaving the ship he had sent a message to France, warning them he was coming. Going ashore to the wharf where two cars were always standing by, he used the key he had taken with him to start up one of them.

  He was well on his way to Forth Navas, using a map Brand had left him. He drove slowly down the narrow road which led to his destination. He didn't like the narrowness of the road, particularly at night. Following Brand's detailed instructions, he parked the car at the bottom of the hill, started walking along the road perched above the creek.

  In a sheath s
trapped to his belt he carried a fresh stiletto knife. In his right hand he was holding a small container from which he had removed the lid as soon as he had parked his car.

  Tweed had parked the car inside the Yacht Club so as not to block the road. Walking back along the deserted and silent road, Paula noticed the tide was out. What had earlier been a channel of water was now a bed of mud, slimy ooze in the moonlight.

  'I wouldn't like to live here.' she remarked. 'Look at the creek now. A great sight to view from your window.'

  'Not very inviting.' Tweed agreed. 'And that is what it will look like for hours. Every time the tide recedes you're staring at a mud bath. When I was down here the last time I noticed that. Up at a place called Mylor. It lasted all the time I was in the house I was visiting. In a pub an estate agent told me a lot of his London clients purchased property in summer. They spent a year there and came to him again - to sell. Funny, there are no lights in Maurice's place, The Ark.'

  'Very weird,' said Paula. 'He knew we were coming. Lord, has something happened?'

  'I hope not,' Tweed replied grimly, quickening his pace. 'I just hope we haven't arrived too late...'

  They approached the darkened house. No other residence along the road had lights on, but it was the darkness of The Ark which held their gaze. Paula had her Browning in her hand as they came to the steps leading up to the front door. The silence hanging over the creek was beginning to unnerve her.

  Tweed checked the windows masked by net curtains. No sign anywhere of the inner curtains being closed. He went up the steps with Paula beside him, paused, uncertain whether to raise the heavy anchor-shaped knocker or not.

  The door opened slowly and Prendergast stood there with a warm smile. He gestured for them to enter.

  'Welcome, both of you. And you look so worried.' he said to Paula and kissed her on the cheek before shutting the door.

  'Wait just a moment.' he went on, 'and I'll close all the curtains. Sorry if I startled you, but I decided to take precautions. I saw you through the net curtains when you were close to the house. What would you like to drink?'

  'I think I could do with a small whisky.' Paula replied.

  'I'll have one, too.' Tweed said, surprising Paula, who knew he rarely drank.

  'We believe you are the next target for whoever murdered Adrian Penkastle.' Tweed told him after taking a sip of his drink. 'You most certainly are wise to be on guard.'

  'I knew you'd arrived.' their host remarked. 'I saw you driving your car slowly along to where you could park.'

  'Who killed Penkastle?'

  Tweed, you expect miracles. I have no idea. I found the body only yesterday evening when I drove to see what Adrian was up to.'

  'And reported it back to your superiors.'

  'I told you I was retired.'

  'Cock and bull story. Or rather, a cover story. You're as active as ever you were.' Tweed hammered at him.

  'If you say so.'

  'I would also like to know whether you reported that Paula was present here last night - that she met Penkastle when she ran outside.' Tweed leaned forward. 'Now I expect the truth.'

  Prendergast paused. He didn't look at Paula, who was staring straight at him. He gave a shrug of resignation.

  Tm afraid that was exactly what I did. I had to convince my superiors I was giving them the full data. You may not believe this, but I was trying to get into their thick heads that you were ahead of them in the game, that they should damned well cooperate with you. I feel very strongly about that.'

  'I believe you.' Tweed said quietly.

  'And I apologize without reservation to you.' Prendergast said, turning to Paula. 'If you hate my guts I wouldn't blame you.'

  'I don't hate your guts, Maurice.' Paula told him. 'But you ought to know that I was interrogated by one of the Yard's top men, Roy Buchanan. He'd flown straight down here after your superiors had - obviously - reported what you had told them to the Commissioner.'

  'Oh, my God!' Prendergast was clearly appalled. 'I have made a complete balls-up. I should never have told them about you. But I never dreamt the wets would pass it on to anyone - let alone the Commissioner.'

  "They want to maintain a low profile.' said Tweed. 'Now, I'll ask you again, who do you think killed Penkastle?'

  'One of Vincent Bernard Moloch's thugs.' Prendergast replied instantly.

  'Maybe. But we don't know it was on Moloch's orders. Not yet, anyway.'

  Tweed felt relieved. He had smoked out Prendergast, a very efficient officer in Special Branch, into the open. They now had a strong ally, which might come in very useful at some stage.

  Their host offered them more to drink. Both refused and Prendergast was pouring himself a refresher when there was a knock on the door. Paula looked at Tweed, dived her right hand inside the special pocket inside her shoulder bag, gripped the Browning. Prendergast seemed least disturbed.

  "That will be Charlie. Local character who stays up half the night. An insomniac. He comes about this time for a brief chat. Harmless ...'

  Before Tweed could stop him, Prendergast had reached the door, opened it.

  'Urgent message from London, Mr Prendergast.'

  'How did you get down here?'

  'Motorcycle. I'm a courier.'

  As he said this, Gene threw the contents of the open can of pepper into Prendergast's eyes. Prendergast flung a hand up, instinctively took a step back into the room. Gene followed him, the stiletto in his right hand, ready to plunge into his target's chest.

  Holding her Browning by the barrel, Paula reached Gene, brought down the butt on his wrist. At the last moment Gene let his wrist drop to minimize the force of the blow. Realizing he was outnumbered, he grasped Paula in an armlock round the neck. His right hand still gripped the knife which he held against her throat.

  'Get back, you friggin' lot,' he screamed, 'or she gets her throat slit ear to ear. You drop the friggin' gun or get your head cut off,' he ordered Paula.

  She had no option - she dropped the Browning. Tweed had reached Gene a second too late, his right hand stiffened to administer a blow to the bridge of his nose which would have killed him. He watched as Gene dragged Paula to the open door, carefully down the steps, along the road towards where his car was parked.

  Tweed followed grimly, keeping his steps in pace with Gene's car. Prendergast was still in his kitchen, trying to clear his eyes of pepper although he knew what was going on.

  Along the road Tweed was keeping up the macabre death march. He was careful to stay a good twelve paces behind Gene, who kept glancing backwards and then forwards to where his car was waiting. Tweed had picked up Paula's Browning and held it by his side. Gene screamed at him.

  'Stop following me or I'll rip her throat to pieces.'

  Tweed made no immediate reply. He just continued to march forward, maintaining his distance from Gene and Paula, powerless in Gene's tight grip, only too aware of the cold steel touching her throat. Tweed kept silent, guessing that this would rattle the thug more than anything.

  Suddenly they heard the sound of a car approaching. It stopped. Behind the wheel of the Merc. Newman switched on his lights full beam. They silhouetted Gene with his captive. Newman stared in horror. He turned off the engine but kept his lights on.

  Turn out those friggin' lights or this woman has a red circle round her throat...'

  'Bob.' Tweed called out, his voice calm, 'do as he says. He has a knife at Paula's throat.'

  Newman obeyed the order instantly. By his side Marler, his Armalite rifle across his lap, calculated whether he could hit Gene with one quick shot. He realized he couldn't - Paula was too close to her captor.

  'Tell him to back that car off the road.' screamed Gene.

  'Do what he says, Bob.' Tweed ordered.

  Newman began reversing his car onto the main road and then waited, feeling helpless. Tweed had half-closed his eyes when he'd heard the car coming so he was. not affected by the glare, nor by the lights going off. He continued his slow, d
eliberate march, gun still by his side.

  'Stop following me.' screeched Gene, continuing to move closer to his car. 'Or she gets it.'

  'If - you - harm - her - in - in - any – way.' Tweed said very slowly in a cold voice, 'I will shoot you first in one kneecap, then in the other kneecap - and then between the legs. Or perhaps you're not at all interested in women.'

  There was something terrifying in the way Tweed delivered his message. Even in her frightened state Paula thought she had never heard before Tweed speak in such a steely voice.

  His voice had the same effect on Gene, and Paula felt his grip tremble, then tighten on her. Tweed seemed to have turned into Nemesis, stalking his prey with a ferocity which chilled Gene. He kept her moving, but was continually glancing back at Tweed's almost casual tread.

  'She'll be dead.' Gene called out in a desperate tone.

  'You'll be crippled for the rest of your life.' responded Tweed in the same cold, deliberate voice.

  'Just stop walking after me.' called out Gene, almost hysterically, 'if you want your girl friend alive.'

  Tweed continued walking, still maintaining the same distance between himself and Gene who was now dragging Paula along the road. He had almost reached his car. He planned to take Paula with him as a hostage.

  She suddenly sagged against him and Gene swore. She had fainted, was a dead weight he had to try and haul along with him. She had sagged backwards against him, and for a short time her throat was clear of his knife. Still twenty yards from the end of the creek - and his parked car - he tried to tighten his grip but he was startled by how heavily she seemed to weigh. Her eyes closed, she was pressed against his body as he turned again to check how close Tweed was from him.

  A shot rang out, the bullet penetrating the back of Gene's skull. With Paula's head now lowered to his chest she was in no danger of being hit. Gene's head jerked under the impact of the bullet. The knife fell from his nerveless hand. He lost his grip on Paula, who dropped to the ground, her eyes wide open.

  Gene staggered on the edge of the creek. His dead body toppled over the edge, fell heavily into the muddy creek. Tweed stood still, watching the mud engulf the body until it sank out of sight.