by Colin Forbes
They turned off the highway. Alvarez reached down, picked up off the floor a large canvas bag he had brought, looped it over his shoulder. They had parked when Paula asked Alvarez, 'What have you got inside that bag? Weapons?'
'Yes, and something more macabre. Not that I think we'll need it. The corpse will be smashed to pieces against the offshore stacks.'
'Stacks?'
'You'll see. I have a powerful torch. We'll need it.'
Butler stayed with the cars while Alvarez led the way on foot, flanked on one side by Tweed and on the other by Paula. His torch illuminated the path running under a canopy of cypress trees overhead. To their left was a dried-up riverbed. Alvarez illuminated it briefly with his torch.
'That's Pfeiffer Creek. Runs down from Sycamore Canyon on the far side of the highway.'
He had to hurry. Tweed was taking great strides, keeping up a cracking pace. Paula thought that had they not seen what was coming in, it would have seemed an enchanted glade. They reached the beach suddenly. No more cypresses. Only soft sand, difficult to trudge across. Alvarez switched off his torch because moonlight was illuminating an amazing scene and Paula gasped inwardly.
Just beyond the tide mark, massive rocks sheered up out of the sea, rocks which were pierced by large arches through which the violent ocean pounded in, broke on the beach. A fierce wind almost blew them off their feet. Tweed, coat flapping round him, pointed. Paula felt a chill which had nothing to do with the icy wind hurtling against Pfeiffer Beach, throwing up the soft sand like a dust storm.
A tall wave, cruising in, carried on its crest the body she had seen from the car. The crest soared on inside the arch, carrying its dead passenger, narrowly missing the rock faces on either side. The bizarre sight reached its climax as the wave plunged through the opening, crashed against the shore, throwing its corpse onto the beach.
Alvarez ran forward, a handkerchief tied round his nose and mouth, gesturing to Newman to adopt the same precautions as he threw him a pair of surgical gloves. He was already wearing gloves himself. Together, they hauled the waterlogged body higher up the beach. It seemed to Newman it weighed a ton, although the man they had dragged out of reach of the hungry sea was slim. Alvarez shone his torch on the face of the man who lay on his back. Paula gasped inwardly. It was the body of Luis Martinez.
'Stay back!' Tweed shouted at Paula. 'There could be infection.'
Out of his large canvas holdall Alvarez produced a roll of cloth which he spread out. It was a body bag. Between them, Newman and Alvarez laid the corpse inside the body bag, which Alvarez, immediately and with care, zipped up. It was a difficult task and Newman was breathing heavily as he followed Alvarez's example, taking off the gloves, throwing them into the sea. The two men thoroughly washed their hands at the edge of the water then took off the makeshift handkerchief masks and threw them after the gloves.
Alvarez walked over to where Tweed waited with Paula and Marler. He also was breathing heavily.
"That is Martinez, guard master at Black Ridge, the man shot by Nield and you, Paula. Give me your handguns,' he went on as Nield joined them. 'Someone later used a shotgun on him but Ballistics might still identify your bullets.'
When they handed over their weapons Alvarez walked back to the water's edge and hurled each weapon a great distance past one of the island rocks. By the time he returned Marler had handed Paula a spare Browning, a Smith & Wesson to Nield - weapons he extracted from his own large holdall. He also gave them spare ammo.
'You did a lot of shopping in San Francisco.' Paula yelled above the wind.
'Spent a lot of money.' Marler grinned. 'Never know when spares will come in useful!'
'The water is very deep where your weapons dropped.' Alvarez told them. 'Now we have to carry that body bag to the cars, put it in one of the trunks. It will be hard work...'
They had a terrible job transporting the body bag. Tweed and Newman had hold of the front end while Alvarez and Nield grasped the back. They had to trudge slowly through the soft sand with the wind battering their backs as it increased in fury, whipping up more sand particles in their faces.
The going was easier when they reached the path beneath the cypresses but the bag seemed to get heavier and heavier. At one point Alvarez called a halt to give everyone a break from their hideous task. Paula, who had borrowed the torch from Alvarez, had led the way, shining the beam along the narrow twisting path.
They resumed their task. As they came in sight Butler saw what was happening. He had the boot opened up and the four carriers eased it inside. With a sigh of relief Newman hammered the boot shut.
'How in God's name did a man shot near McGee's Landing get into the sea?' he wondered aloud.
'I guess Brand came back for the body later, found a shotgun someone had left, emptied it into the body -heaven knows why. Then he must have had a bedroll -something - and used it to heave it into the trunk of his own car. He probably passed us at Mission Ranch while we were eating outside.' Alvarez suggested.
'But why?' Paula asked.
'Probably because he didn't want any evidence found about what happened near McGee's Landing. So he brings the body along the coast road, dumps it over a cliff. His bad luck was in not realizing the current would bring it in to Pfeiffer Beach.' He smiled. 'Plus the sharp eyes of Paula.'
'So what do we do with it now?'
'We deliver it to VB.' Tweed said. 'I don't think he will be best pleased. I suspect Mr Joel Brand has been going into business on his own.'
The atmosphere at Black Ridge had quietened down. The searchlights were still revolving slowly over the grounds, but there was no sign of the small horde of guards they had seen earlier. Despite Newman's protests, Tweed insisted on getting out of the parked Merc, by the closed gates. He walked up to the speakphone built into one of the pillars, pressed the button.
'Who is it?'
Surprised, Tweed recognized Moloch's distinctive quiet voice.
Tweed here. We have a body of one of your men here. Dragged out of the ocean. I think you ought to see it.'
"The gates are opening. Drive in. I'll meet you on the terrace.'
Tweed climbed back in the Merc, beside Newman. The automatic gates were already opening. As they drove in Marler, behind the wheel of the BMW, followed a short distance, then parked by the right-hand gate so it couldn't be closed, providing an escape route.
'I can see why VB has succeeded even in the tough free-for-all which is American business,' Tweed mused. 'He can take an instant decision.'
'What are you doing?' Paula wanted to know.
'Divide and conquer.'
'All right. Be cryptic.'
The searchlights had been adjusted, so Newman was able to proceed up the drive without their glare in his eyes. Moloch, dressed in black tie and a dinner jacket, waited for them under a lantern on the steps. He greeted them with a smile.
'Welcome, Tweed. Your visits here are becoming a habit, I hope. Please come inside. It's chilly out here. And who is the very attractive young lady?'
'My assistant, Paula Grey.'
'I admire your taste.' He shook her hand. 'Can I poach you from Tweed? As my personal assistant. Vanity has handed in her notice.'
'Before we go in,' Tweed suggested, 'I think you should have a brief look at the contents of our boot.'
Newman was already standing at the rear of the car. Pressing a button, the lid elevated. Using another pair of surgical gloves Alvarez had given him, he unzipped the top of the body bag, stood well back.
'Not too close,' he warned.
The lantern on the terrace shone directly on Martinez's dead face. It had a puffy ghoulish look but was still recognizable. Moloch walked forward, stood by Newman. His expression was grim. He stepped back.
'Where did you find him?'
'Floating in to Pfeiffer Beach.' replied Alvarez. 'He hasn't been in the ocean all that long otherwise you wouldn't know who it was.'
Newman zipped up the bag, closed the boot quickly, took o
ff his gloves. Fountains were gushing on the terrace. He went to one of them, dropped the gloves in the water, washed his hands.
'We'd better go inside.' Moloch said in a calm voice. 'Your present is a trifle macabre. This is my birthday, hence my dressing up - something which bores me. Ah, let me introduce you to my deputy, Joel Brand.'
Brand had appeared, also in black tie and dinner jacket. Paula was surprised at how smart he looked. He gazed straight at her, smiling.
'Just what was missing from the party. A desirable woman.'
'Good evening, Bastard.' Paula replied.
Brand threw back his large head, his shaggy black hair falling over his collar. He grinned and Paula detected a certain magnetism. An unsophisticated woman would find him endearing, she thought.
'I like a lady with guts,' Brand told her.
"That will be enough, Joel,' Moloch said in an icy tone. He looked back to where Newman had climbed back in the car behind the wheel. 'Surely you will join us? I am not going to put a bomb under your car.'
'I know someone else who might.' Newman stared hard at Brand. "Thank you, but I'll stay right here.'
Moloch nodded, then led the way into the vast and luxurious room he had shown Tweed. The marble blocks were decorated with crystal vases full of varied flowers. Moloch waved a hand.
"That is the staff's idea. A shocking waste of money. Now do sit down. Champagne for everyone?'
Paula perched on the edge of a couch where she could easily reach her new Browning. She accepted a glass. Tweed asked for orange juice. As Moloch served drinks she looked round at the crowded room. Byron Landis, looking nervous was also perched on the edge of a couch. She counted twenty members of the staff, a mix of men and women, all dressed for the party. Light music drifted across the marble room. Then the atmosphere changed dramatically.
'Champagne, Joel.' Moloch said, holding out a glass.
Brand reached for the glass with one large hand, but Moloch held on to it. Puzzled, Brand stared at his chief. Hie whole room had noticed, the babble of conversation vanished in a deep silence, punctuated only by the music.
'Joel, Martinez has returned. He's outside in the trunk of a car. In a body bag.'
A swift mix of expressions crowded Brand's face. Amazement. Disbelief. Fear. Then he recovered his balance, speaking in a strong voice.
'I don't understand.'
'I thought you might. He was dragged out of the ocean close to Pfeiffer Beach.'
'You mean he committed suicide?' Brand suggested.
'No, I don't. He's been riddled with a shotgun. Not a pretty sight. What's the matter, Joel? Don't you like champagne? You look as though you need a glass.'
Moloch pressed the glass forward. Paula noticed Brand grasped the glass with a steady hand. He was shaken but he had nerve - the dangerous nerve of a man without feeling. Moloch turned away as his deputy drank.
'You know,' he said, sitting next to Tweed, 'one of my problems is with staff - especially those at the top. There is always rivalry - one trying to stab the other in the back. Or maybe they use a garrotte.'
Paula was watching Landis. She saw his hand tighten on his glass so strongly she thought the glass would shatter. Moloch raised his own glass, toasting the whole room.
'This is my birthday party. There isn't enough noise. Enjoy yourselves.'
The babble broke out again, but now Paula detected a false note, as though everyone was anxious to obey the order. Turning to Tweed, Moloch lowered his voice.
'You should see my empire. Come with me. Paula,
you also are invited. And your friend. I didn't catch your name.'
'Alvarez.' said Alvarez stiffly.
Paula was amazed at the grotesque series of events. First, by the iron-nerved way Moloch had reacted to the sight of Martinez's body. Second, by the strange atmosphere of the birthday party. Above all, by Moloch's ruthless confrontation of Joel Brand in public.
As they walked along a corridor a small, tough and stocky man with a large head appeared from a doorway. He had a gun inside a holster hanging from a wide belt round his thick waist.
"This is Hogan, now appointed guard master,' Moloch explained. 'Excuse me a moment while I have a word with him.'
Despite his taking Hogan aside and speaking in a low tone Paula, with her acute hearing, heard every word.
"There is a Merc, parked outside. Ignore the man at the wheel. Take two men, open the trunk and remove the body bag inside. Deposit it in the large fridge inside one of the garages. Then lock the garage and keep the key yourself.'
Paula was watching Tweed. Only because she knew him so well was she able to detect a sense of relief. Tweed felt a load had been taken off his shoulders. He had hoped this was what would happen - before leaving the car he had ordered Newman not to interfere if Moloch's men took away the body bag. He had taken a tremendous gamble back at the exit from Pfeiffer Beach - when he had told his team to transport the corpse to Black Ridge. The gamble had paid off.
'Sorry about that. I'll lead the way. What you are going to see was Vanity's idea. I think it's arrogant, but it does impress American businessmen. In here.' Moloch led them into a room which was not his normal office.
The walls were covered with maps. One of the States. Another of South America. The third of Europe. The last of Asia. On each one were large circles indicating where Moloch had plants.
Tweed stared at the maps. Moloch's empire was vaster than he had realized, greater than the data Monica had unearthed. The sheer world sweep of AMBECO was frightening.
'You cover a fair amount of territory.' Tweed remarked.
"The largest conglomerate in the world.' Moloch replied. 'I am not impressed by its size, but one fight led to another.'
'Where is Vanity, incidentally?' Paula asked.
'I have no idea. Perhaps, like me, she doesn't like parties. Now I want to introduce you to someone.'
He showed them inside his small office where a tall, good-looking American was making notes, checking a sheaf of papers. He stood up as soon as Moloch entered.
"This is Ed Keller.' said Moloch. 'He is the partner in the late Linda Standish's private investigation agency. He came here to look into the disappearance of Luis Martinez. Ed, this is Tweed, a top insurance claims investigator.'
'I've heard of you.' Keller said as he shook hands. 'When Linda visited London you were very kind to her.'
'I hope so. I suppose you are also investigating the disappearance of Mr Moloch's women assistants who are still missing?'
'Never give up. Especially as I'm also determined to track down The Accountant - he murdered my partner. Seems he moves like a ghost.'
'He'll find himself in the wrong place at the wrong time.' Tweed assured the American. 'Now, we really must leave. And thank you for your hospitality, Mr Moloch.'
The strains of dance music filtered into the hall, striking Paula as uncanny when she recalled recent events. A dance of death? Outside, when Moloch had ushered them out and closed the door, Paula saw Vanity sitting next to Newman in the car. She was amused because they swiftly disentangled themselves from an embrace. Newman jumped out, went round to open the door for Vanity to leave.
"The removal men arrived just before Vanity found me here.' he called out to Tweed.
'Removal men?' Vanity queried.
'Furniture.' Newman replied.
'I ought to get back to the party now.' Vanity commented and said good night to everyone.
As they drove down the slope they saw the right-hand gate was still open, blocked by the BMW. Newman continued on to the highway, followed by Marler, turning in the direction of Carmel.
"Three thugs removed the body bag.' Newman reported. 'Never said a word. What's the idea?'
'It was rather a desperate decision I took.' Tweed explained, 'but it worked wonderfully. My aim was to get the top people at each other's throats. Angry men make the wrong move. A form of psychological warfare. Now, what have we up there?'
Parked outside the terrace
of The Apex was a car. Mrs Benyon had a visitor. This was the second unexpected twist of the night. Tweed told Newman to drive up the slope to The Apex.
34
Tweed's dangerous gamble had succeeded beyond his most hopeful expectations. Moloch returned to his office the moment his guests, including Keller, had left, summoned Brand, Landis and Hogan. He was behind his desk as they came in together.
'Don't sit down!' he shouted at them. 'Stand up and stand still.'
'Something wrongRIGHT SQUARE BRACKET' Brand began.
'Shut your big trap! Martinez's body is in the large fridge in a locked garage. Hogan, give me the key.'
Nervously, Hogan trudged forward, laid the key on the desk.
'Now go back and stand where you were,' Moloch barked.
'Isn't it dangerous to keep a body on theRIGHT SQUARE BRACKET' Brand began again.
'It's dangerous to open your stupid mouth. Don't do it again or you're finished,' Moloch raged.
'Excuse me, but I don't know why I am here,' Landis ventured.
'You're here because one of you murdered Martinez with a shotgun, then walked off with half a million dollars.'
'Shotgun?' Hogan sounded puzzled.
'A shotgun, you ham-fisted cretin. I've checked the roster. All of you were absent from Black Ridge this afternoon.' His voice became an alarming purr. 'Did someone play truant while I was away in San Francisco?'
'I went into Carmel to meet a girl,' Landis mumbled.
'A call girl, I presume?' Moloch sneered. 'Her name?'
'Lola.'
'It would be. Give me her address. I'll have Keller check that out.'
'I was her last customer.' Landis adjusted his black tie, a nervous gesture Moloch noted. 'She'd borrowed a flat on Junipero from another girl. When I left she was off to San Francisco. She said the money was better there.'