The Cauldron

by Colin Forbes

  She had heavy jowls and above a strong nose two dark eyes peered at him. He detected intelligence in them. In each hand she was carrying a walking stick.

  'My name is Tweed. I'm English.' He took a chance. 'I've reason to believe your son, Ethan, is in danger.'

  'Come in, both of you. I've just made some lemon tea. And I am British. You look like a high-ranking policeman.'

  "This is Paula.' Tweed introduced her. 'My assistant.'

  He ignored her reference to his being a policeman. The idea seemed to please her. They waited in a curving hall while she relocked the door and refastened the chains.

  'My stepson, Vincent Moloch, has somehow obtained a key to my door,' she explained. 'I had a locksmith come from Carmel to secure the door against him. Follow me.' she commanded.

  They walked behind her as she proceeded, tapping her sticks. In a large sitting room she sagged into a thronelike chair. With her sticks she indicated two chairs which Tweed and Paula occupied. On a table by her side was a silver pot and one Meissen cup.

  'If you would like tea.' she suggested to Paula, 'perhaps you would fetch cups from the kitchen...'

  'Thank you, but not for me,' Tweed said hastily.

  'And I'm not thirsty.' Paula added.

  'While I remember.' Tweed said easily, 'that big ship out at sea, the Baja California ...'

  'Never been near Baja.' Mrs Benyon snapped. 'It belongs to Vincent. One of his evil schemes.'

  'Evil, Mrs Benyon?'

  'All his schemes are evil. The ship is supposed to be bringing up core samples from the ocean bed. Something to do with testing the age of California. Fiddlesticks! I don't know what it's doing but it won't be what he says it's there for.'

  'How long has it been there?' Paula enquired.

  'Over a month, my dear. I had a terrible shock once, in the middle of the night. Heard a great thump. I got out of bed and a small tidal wave was rushing ashore. Yet the ocean was calm as a lake. I saw it by moonlight.'

  'Some kind of underwater upheaval?' Tweed suggested.

  'Why did you say Ethan was in danger?' she demanded, ignoring his comment.

  'Because I have been told VB is a dangerous man.'

  'He is!' Her manner became animated. 'He thinks I know too much - and I do. He put guards round my house to keep me in here as a prisoner, but Ethan persuaded him to remove them, bless his heart. It's good to talk to English people again.'

  'You said he thinks you know too much?'

  'I do. I paid the guard master, a nasty piece of work called Luis Martinez, several hundred dollars to let me see inside Black Ridge. I know the routine over there and the rest were all away at a meeting in the AMBECO building in San Francisco.'

  'So what did you find out?' Tweed asked as she paused for breath - she talked so quickly.

  'First, that chain of so-called observatories he has erected along the mountains are fakes. I got inside the one behind Black Ridge and the so-called telescope is nothing more than an empty barrel - looks like the real thing but has no lenses.'

  'Curious.' Tweed remarked.

  'He has one real big telescope in the observatory down the coast which he shows astronomers over.'

  "Then what is it all about?' Paula enquired.

  'Something sinister - and poor Ethan has been forced to use his genius to work on it. Martinez was drunk and is boastful. He took me down an elevator deep underground. There is a tunnel they have dug under the mountains. I saw a lot of Ethan's sort of equipment down there. Charts to record earthquake tremors. Vincent believes he can predict the next earthquake. So many machines in the tunnel I don't know what they do. All evil, evil - and Ethan forced to work on them.'

  'Have you told anyone else this?' Tweed asked.

  'Not a living soul. Vincent has brought up so many important Americans I might speak to the wrong man. But you are British. I trust the British. Do you know, you're the first Englishman I've talked to in years? In Carmel they have the Anglo-Pacific Club, that's for the Brits.' She corrected herself, 'I hate that word they use out here. I never joined that club,' she went racing on, 'I didn't like the members. All British people who fled their own country and settled here because the climate is good, the living is easy. Why do you keep looking round my room?' she suddenly demanded.

  'I was admiring your furniture. You have turned it into a real home.'

  Which was not true. Tweed had been examining the room for any sign of monitoring devices. So far as he could see there weren't any.

  'I took a lot of trouble over making it comfortable.' Mrs Benyon replied, and she smirked.

  'This Anglo-Pacific Club you mentioned. Who runs it?'

  'A Brigadier Grenville. Comes here for the winter but he is the leading light. Half the members give themselves airs and graces, give themselves fake titles you won't find in the reference books back home. Lady this and Lady that. My foot! I hear from an old friend that now Vanity Richmond flaunts herself at their parties.'

  'Who is Vanity Richmond?' Tweed enquired innocently.

  'Vincent's latest fancy piece. Supposed to be his personal assistant. She has quarters up at Black Ridge. British, too.'

  Mrs Benyon was showing signs of tiring. Tweed stood up, said they had an urgent appointment so he hoped she would excuse them.

  'Pity, I could have talked to you all day. You will come back and see me?'

  'Of course. Mrs Benyon, maybe it would be best if you didn't let your stepson, Vincent, know we've been here.'

  'Won't say one damned word to that man.'

  'And, if it's not presumptuous, I'd like to pay you a fee for your time. May I?'

  'If you insist.'

  Paula also had stood up as Tweed moved away from Mrs Benyon's chair a few paces while he brought out a sheaf of one-hundred-dollar bills. He was clumsy, dropped five on the floor which scattered over a Persian rug.

  Mrs Benyon leapt out of her chair, bent down to retrieve the money. Then, with her sticks still perched against the chair, she sank back into it.

  'I can walk just a few steps without my sticks.' she felt obliged to explain. 'Now I'll suffer for hours. Any sudden movement shakes me up.'

  'You are all right?' Paula asked, leaning over her.

  'Yes, my dear. I'll just rest awhile.' She looked at Tweed. 'I much prefer your assistant to Vincent's Vanity. Yours is a real lady.'

  "Thank you.' said Paula.

  'Curious name, Vanity.' Tweed remarked.

  'Oh, her real name is Vanessa. She got the nickname Vanity over here because she thinks so much of herself.'

  'I don't think we can get out of the front door.' Tweed reminded her.

  'Of course. Just let me get to my feet.'

  She made a great performance of slowly standing up, using the sticks. Paula, playing along with the act, took her by the arm. As the front door eventually closed on them while they walked along the terrace Tweed heaved a sigh of relief.

  'I don't like her. Greedy.' Paula said.

  'I like the information she gave us.' He looked out to sea where the giant so-called dredger ship was in the same position. Using Paula's glasses, he quickly scanned the vessel, then handed them back to her.

  'I don't like the look of the Baja,' he said. 'I don't like the look of it one bit...'

  Outside at the top of the drive Newman had stood waiting patiently by the Merc., leaving the engine running for a quick getaway. In the rear seat Marler had lowered a window a few inches, had poked the sniperscope out, resting on the edge of the glass. He was looking up at Black Ridge.

  'Bob.' he called out. 'Use your field glasses. We're under observation. First floor of Black Ridge, immediately to the left of the picture window.'

  Newman focused the glasses looped round his neck. The window came up close. His grip on the glasses tightened. He was staring straight at Joel Brand, who was looking back at him through his own binoculars. Newman dropped his glasses and began to whistle.

  Inside Black Ridge, Brand left the window, ran along a corrid
or, opened the door to a room. Two tough men in windbreakers sat reading girlie magazines. Each also wore shabby denims. Brand gave them precise orders.

  Tancho, Antonio, there's a blue Merc., parked at the top of Mrs Benyon's drive. My bet is it will sooner or later return to Carmel. I don't want it to get there. Use the two juggernauts which brought in explosives for the Baja. Got it?'

  'On Highway One, simple,' Antonio answered. 'Accidents will happen. We're on our way.'

  "There's a big bonus for both of you.' Brand called after them as they hurried from the room.

  Returning to the window where he had looked at The Apex, Brand smiled unpleasantly. It was fortunate Moloch had earlier taken off in the chopper on one of his frequent flights to the AMBECO building. Brand had an idea VB would not have approved of his decision. No reason he should ever know about it. He waved through the window to the tiny figure which stood with his back to him.

  'Goodbye, Mr Newman.'

  From his high viewing point Newman saw two huge juggernauts crawling down the drive from Black Ridge.

  The automatic gates opened for them and they trundled off towards Carmel. He glanced at Marler, who nodded.

  Earlier, when about to turn up the drive to The Apex, Newman had waved a hand to Butler behind him, indicating he should drive on. Butler, behind the wheel of the BMW, had understood at once. Instead of following Newman up the drive he had proceeded along Highway One a short distance to where a sandstone gulch reared upon either side of the road. Performing an illegal U-turn, he parked the car inside the gulch, where it was invisible to any watcher up at Black Ridge. Then he waited, chatting to Nield by his side.

  Tweed emerged with Paula to find Newman looking grim. He asked him what was the matter.

  'Nothing.' Newman grinned. 'Just awestruck by the scenery. Back to Carmel and Spanish Bay?'

  'Yes. We can get lunch at the hotel.' Tweed glanced up at Black Ridge, not convinced by Newman's sudden return to his normal cheerful self. 'I'll tell you on the way what we learned from Mrs Benyon. The visit was invaluable...'

  'Brigadier Grenville?' Newman queried some time later. 'He seems to have promoted himself - if it's the same chap. It has to be, come to think of it. That cricket-playing lad I talked to at the pub near Constantine said Grenville spent his winters in Monterey. Can't be two Grenvilles - both with a military title. Where does he fit in to what's going on our here?'

  "That.' said Tweed, 'is what we're going to find out. And I don't suppose you noticed that ship anchored about half a mile out beyond The Apex.'

  'You suppose wrong. I had plenty of time to wander round the side of the terrace. I had a look at it with my field glasses. Something odd - unrecognizable - about the structures on the foredeck. Interesting that the Baja belongs to Moloch. Reminds me of the strange canvas-covered equipment aboard the Venetia off Falmouth.'

  'You mean the equipment looked the same on both vessels?'

  'No, it didn't. On the surface the Baja looks like the standard type of dredger - but not when you check it as I did. What the heck is going on?'

  'Maybe Mr Moloch could tell us.' called out Paula from the back seat, where she sat alongside Marler.

  'I'm probably the last person in the world he'd want to meet,' replied Tweed in the front passenger seat.

  Newman checked his rear-view mirror. The BMW was following them some distance away. They had left Bixby Bridge behind and had climbed high up some time before. The Pacific was now to their left, beyond the other side of the highway. Newman had his hands lightly holding the wheel as they approached a particularly sharp curve with no barrier on the ocean side. He had only to travel a strange route once to be able to recall every twist and turn on the way back.

  'What a contrast to San Francisco,' Paula remarked. 'It is so peaceful out here.'

  'Let's hope it stays that way,' said Newman.

  "That's right.' she shot back at him, 'spoil my enjoyment. I think this is one of the most wonderful parts of the world I've ever seen.'

  'It's pretty unique in its grandeur.' Newman agreed.

  They were approaching the steep bend, high above the sea. Newman was halfway round when he saw the juggernaut coming - on the wrong side of the highway. On his side. A frightful head-on collision seemed inevitable. The massive vehicle would crush the Merc. Tweed showed no reaction. In the back Marler gripped the Armalite. By his side Paula clenched her hands, unable to take her eyes off the advancing colossus.

  At the last moment Newman swung his wheel hard over, taking the car into the other lane. The juggernaut missed them by inches. Then Newman saw another juggernaut coming - again on the wrong side of the road. They'd planned back-up. Behind the wheel Antonio grinned in anticipation. He began to swing his juggernaut to the right to intercept Newman. At that moment Newman rammed his foot full down on the accelerator. The Merc, shot forward like a rocket. It raced past the turning juggernaut. Again there were inches to spare. Antonio had swung his wheel to an extreme angle. The weight of the juggernaut carried him forward. His grin vanished. He saw the cliff edge looming as he desperately tried to turn the wheel back. Too late. Carried forward by its own momentum the juggernaut drove through a hedge and Antonio had a brief glimpse of the three-hundred-foot drop before him. The vehicle toppled over the brink, fell like a propelled missile, dropped vertically three hundred feet, hit the rocks below. The petrol tank exploded. Flames engulfed the cab, a searing spire of flames. The vehicle was smashed, the cab breaking away, catapulting into the ocean where a large wave broke, spilling surf over the funeral pyre, quenching some of the fire. Then the only sound was the next wave breaking.

  21

  The moment Newman reached a lay-by he pulled in, parked and pressed a button on the black box. The aerial elevated above the Merc, the spider's web of wires spread out. Grasping the microphone hidden under the dashboard, he sent his message.

  'Newman here. Emergency. Two juggernauts tried to smash us up. Well north of Bixby Bridge. One vehicle went over the cliff. The first one now heading south along Highway One. Juggernaut hauled by separate cab attached to it. We are waiting in lay-by on Highway One. Over...'

  'Message received. Understood. I'm on my way. Stay in the lay-by. Out.'

  The distinctive voice of Alvarez had come over very clearly. Tweed turned to look at Paula.

  'How are you?'

  'Just fine.' she managed. 'I knew Bob would get us out of it. He's great in a tight spot.'

  'I agree.' Tweed replied. 'A brilliant manoeuvre, Bob.'

  'Compliments will get you nowhere...'

  He got out of the car to smoke a cigarette and Marler, carrying his Armalite, joined him. Paula, aware of tension in her legs, also left the car. They waited awhile and then a chopper circled overhead, landed on the highway, let out a passenger, took off and settled on a nearby hillside. Alvarez ran to the car.

  'You guys all OK?'

  'We're very OK.' Tweed assured him through the lowered window.

  'I've got news. Due to your information we set up a roadblock south of here. The juggernaut tried to smash its way through. A policeman shot the driver dead. A Mexican. Name of Pancho Corona. We think he was an illegal and was heading for the Mexican border.'

  Paula had walked across to greet Alvarez and thank him for his quick arrival. He smiled at her, said it was all in a day's work - another English phrase.

  'What are those men doing?' she asked.

  A police truck carrying men with ropes looped over their shoulders had just passed in the direction of their attack. Alvarez shrugged.

  "They are specially trained. They will go down the cliff with the aid of the ropes to where the other juggernaut crashed into the sea. I saw the wreckage from the air. It is nothing.'

  'You seem to be very well organized.' she commented.

  'We do our best. Now, you have all had a bad time. I think you need lunch. I will show you the way to a scenic restaurant. It is dramatic.' He looked out to sea. 'Black clouds. The weather is changing. Roc
ky Point could be quite dramatic. Can this gentleman travel in the BMW, your escort car?'

  "This gentleman can,' Marler told him.

  "Then I will travel with you in the Mercedes and show you the way. To Rocky Point...'

  At Black Ridge, staring out of the window, Brand had seen Pancho's juggernaut hurtling along the highway and past towards the south. He guessed that something had gone wrong. He hurried to the room which contained the staff records.

  Pancho Corona was not an illegal, but he felt it wise to destroy all evidence that he had been employed at Black Ridge. Extracting the file containing Corona's details, he shredded the sheets inside and hurried back to his own office. From a safe he took a packet of cocaine. He was not a user of drugs but he kept a quantity to plant on enemies. Then a quick anonymous call to the police destroyed his target.

  He had put on a pair of surgical gloves before picking up the packet from the safe. No fingerprints. Still hurrying - VB might return at any time - he ran down a staircase leading to the back of the mansion. Outside was a huge garage where the juggernauts had been parked. He casually threw the packet into a corner and strolled back to his office. Now he had a story ready to tell VB about the missing vehicles.

  In the restaurant at Rocky Point, Alvarez led them to a table by a huge picture window. Paula looked round at the lavish and modernistic way the restaurant was furnished and decorated.

  "This is very impressive.' she remarked.

  Tweed insisted he joined them for at least a drink after he had refused lunch. Alvarez explained as he sat down next to Paula.

  'You recall when I asked Newman to pause? Then I waved to my chopper perched on the hillside and it took off?'

  'Yes, I did wonder what all that was about.'

  'The chopper followed your cars and landed on the hill near here. After my drink I'll board it and fly to the roadblock. I prefer to see to everything myself. That way it goes good.' He lifted his glass. 'Cheers! Welcome to California - although I would have hoped it would have been a more peaceful visit.' He downed his drink. 'Now, if you will excuse me...'