by Colin Forbes
Noel forced himself to glance at another screen. A similar scene, but the axe held by another man descended on top of the prisoner's head, splitting the skull in two down to the neck.
Radek felt for the knob on the other machine, turned it on, his grin even more sadistic. Fitch had earlier inserted his earplugs. Noel had omitted to do this. A diabolical sound filled the warehouse room.
Desperately Noel jammed the plugs into his ears, fumbling one, so he was still subjected to the noise from hell. He rammed the second earplug in place, heaved out a deep breath.
The room had now gone crazy. The bestial pictures. The penetrating screech, rising and falling non-stop. Noel could hear it even with the plugs in place. He looked at Fitch, seated on the floor, staring at one screen, then another.
Noel saw no point in staying in the warehouse any longer. He knew now how Radek was going to operate on Tweed and on Paula. He shouted at Radek to switch on some light. The Slovak turned on his torch, aimed it at the door he guessed Noel would head for, which he did.
Radek was amused as Noel walked quickly, opened the door, disappeared, pulling the door shut behind himself. Not a man for the High Tatra, Radek said to himself. He saw no point in telling Noel he had given him less effective earplugs than those he'd handed to the motionless Fitch. He leant down, pressed the buttons. The screens went blank.
'Think what one hour of this would do to Tweed and Paula,' he told Fitch, who had removed his plugs. 'Two once normal people, now insane. Spending the rest of their lives in an asylum.'
24
'Do sit down, Benton,' Tweed greeted his visitor. 'Would you like a cup of coffee or tea?'
'Coffee would be very acceptable, thank you,' Benton replied.
He had phoned Benton at his home in Hampstead, inviting him over. The Cabal member had accepted the invitation at once.
Only Paula and Monica were also present. Tweed had thought his visitor might talk more frankly if the other members of his team were absent. There was a pause and Tweed studied his guest.
Shorter than Nelson, Benton was in his early forties Tweed guessed, as he had when he had visited the Cabal at their HQ with Paula. Now he had a better chance of weighing up the man's appearance and personality. Round-headed, he had a bald patch on top of his head. His small eyes were greenish and shrewd under heavy lids. He wore a conservative grey suit which did not flaunt expense. His hands were folded in his lap. He gave Tweed the impression of someone with perfect self-control. Monica brought in coffee and Benton took it black, thanking her.
'I am sorry I was not available when you phoned, asking to come and see me,' Tweed said amiably. 'What is worrying you?'
'You are perceptive,' Benton observed in his quiet voice. 'May I ask, have you sent your report to the PM?'
'Not yet. It may come from my Director, Howard. He has just returned from a visit abroad.'
'I see.' Benton sipped at his coffee, then turned to look at Paula. 'I'm losing my manners. My apologies for not acknowledging your presence when I arrived.'
'That's all right,' Paula replied with a smile. 'Welcome.'
'I am worried,' Benton said, turning back to Tweed, 'at the near state of war which has broken out between our two departments. It's unseemly, dangerous.'
'Mainly operated by Horlick, your half-brother?' said Tweed, using shock tactics.
'Oh, so you know about Noel.' Benton chuckled, glanced over again at Paula. 'I'm impressed by your sources of information. I shouldn't be. Your reputation is well known. Noel is the youngest of us, sometimes a bit of a wild lad.'
'Wild enough to screw a cat's neck through a hundred and eighty degrees?' asked Paula quietly, following Tweed's lead with shock tactics.
'May I ask how you know about that?' Benton asked, his manner now disturbed.
'Someone took a photograph of the pillar at the entrance to your father's mansion,' Tweed fibbed. 'Someone else here in London told us about the mysterious incident,' he went on.
'Mysterious is the word,' Benton said quickly. 'We never did identify the culprit.'
'Here is a draft of my report for Mr Howard,' Tweed went on, producing a thick typed sheaf from a drawer. 'It is only a draft, subject to toning down,' he emphasized as he handed it to Benton.
His guest took out a pair of rimless spectacles, began to study the report. Paula noticed that the glasses transformed his whole appearance, gave him a sinister look.
'That's a copy, but I must keep it,' Tweed continued.
Benton read the report slowly. Then he stared at Tweed. 'I would certainly hope this is toned down.'
'We'll have to see.'
Paula noticed Benton, thrown off-stride, was slowly turning the thick sheaf into a roll. Absentmindedly he squeezed the roll with both hands. Paula felt a wave of shock pass over her. The motion of twisting the report reminded her of how someone would screw a cat's neck. As though the thought had been transmitted telepathically, Benton suddenly turned again to look straight at her. His gaze from behind the rimless glasses was disturbing. Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde flashed into her mind.
'Oh dear, I'm sorry,' Benton said, turning back to Tweed. 'I was thinking and I've spoilt your copy.' He began unrolling the report, used thick fingers to smooth it out before passing it across the desk.
'Doesn't matter,' Tweed said. 'It's only a copy. So how do you propose to calm down the tense state of affairs growing worse almost by the hour?'
'How do you propose to do that?' Benton rapped back.
'Touche!' Tweed threw both hands into the air. 'We are going round in circles. You could talk to your colleagues.'
'Oh, I most certainly will.' He removed his glasses. 'May I assume you will do the same thing?'
'Depends on any further developments.'
'What does that mean?' enquired Benton, finishing his coffee. He turned in his chair to address Monica. 'That coffee was the best I've drunk for a while. My thanks.'
'It means that there must be no further attempts to attack my staff.'
He stopped speaking as an object hurled from the outside struck one of the metal blinds Paula had lowered. The object bounced off, fell into the street and exploded. Paula jumped up, peered out of the window just in time to see a man in a dark overcoat diving inside a Ford which took off immediately, racing into the main street, fortunately empty of traffic for a brief moment.
'Grenade.' Tweed stood up. 'That's what I'm talking about.'
'Lucky no one was on the pavement in the Crescent,' Paula snapped. 'They'd have been killed.'
'Surely,' Benton began, standing up, 'you don't think that had anything to do with us.'
'I think,' Tweed replied grimly, 'you had best go back to your HQ and have a long talk with your colleagues. By the way, did either Nelson or Noel know you were coming here?'
'No, they were both out…' Benton hesitated as though he'd made a mistake. The implication was that the grenade would not have been thrown if they had known Benton was going to be in the office. 'I did mention earlier that I was coming to see you,' Benton added quickly.
'When was "earlier"?' Tweed demanded, keeping up the pressure.
'I really think I'd better go now.' He paused. 'Truce?' He held out his hand to Tweed who appeared not to notice it as he slipped from behind his desk and opened the door for Benton to leave.
25
In the evening Paula was on her way to meet Coral Flenton. She had phoned first and Coral had sounded delighted she was coming. Tweed had planned protection for her and she had accepted the idea without a murmur. The grenade hurled at the steel blind had shaken her. The protection was heavy.
'We are facing ruthless men capable of anything.' Tweed had warned. 'The interview with Benton did nothing to reassure me…'
It was a murky evening as Paula drove slowly into Covent Garden. The dark was intensified by a low ceiling of black clouds. Close behind her Newman drove in his car with Nield in his car behind him. A motorcyclist purred past them. In the saddle was Harry, who pulled up a few
yards beyond the entrance to Coral's apartment.
Paula saw that the space she'd used on her previous visit was empty. She turned into it, got out, locked the car, inserted coins into the meter. By now both Nield and Newman had found parking spaces. They had planned in advance where each of them would wait. Newman bought a cup of coffee and a newspaper he'd pretend to read opposite Coral's entrance. Recalling the photo sent to them by persons unknown of the scene outside Viola's flat, he was disturbed to see the lighted frosted-glass window.
As soon as Paula pressed the bell the door was opened and Coral stood there, smiling. As she stepped inside Coral threw both arms round her visitor, hugged her. Paula used her foot to kick the door shut behind her.
'I am so relieved to see you,' Coral said as she led the way down a long hall and up a flight of stairs. They went into the living room, modestly but tastefully furnished.
'Has something happened to disturb you?' Paula enquired as she sat on a sofa.
'I suppose it has. I don't know where the hell I am.'
Coral picked up a glass and drank. Paula sniffed brandy. Then she saw the bottle perched on a small table near the sofa. She asked for wine when Coral offered brandy.
'What's the problem?' Paula asked after sipping her wine.
'The Parrot. I don't know where the devil I am with her. For weeks she's been on my back, now she's so friendly. She takes me out for a posh meal – I may have mentioned that before – she even suggested that we stand shoulder to shoulder to outwit the three bullies in the next room. I'm treading warily. She has a terrible temper. And I'm due for promotion into another department. I don't want the Parrot to turn nasty again, to find some excuse for throwing me out. I need the money.'
'Anything else on your mind? Although what you've told me is enough.'
'I keep thinking of poor Viola. I told you we knew each other at school. I read the description of what happened to her and keep thinking of it. Bad dreams. I wonder how Marina, her twin sister, is feeling.'
'Marina?' Paula repeated. 'I didn't know about her. A twin sister. Did they get on well together?'
'They did not.' Coral paused, refilled her glass. 'You see, they both behaved in the same way.' She hesitated.
'You mean with men?' suggested Paula.
'Yes, I do. It sounds awful but they were competitive.'
'In what way?'
'In price. What they charged for their services, if you see what I mean.' She had another drink. 'At least, Marina was. Viola wasn't. What they charge a man for you know what.'
'I see.' Paula took another small sip. This was a new development no one had mentioned before. 'Where does Marina live, then?'
'She has a luxurious pad in a street off Mayfair. Do you want the address?'
'If you don't mind…'
She studied Coral while she was scribbling on a pad. Her movements were jerky. Nerves? It could be the brandy but Paula doubted it. Coral was informally dressed in denims and a white blouse buttoned to the neck. Coral handed her the sheet she had torn off the pad. Paula noticed the writing was neat but jerky. She folded the note, put it inside her hold-all in a zip-up pocket.
'Thank you.'
'It has her address, her phone number, her mobile number.'
'I suppose Viola gave you this information,' she said gently.
'That's right. I was having a drink with her one evening in her Fox Street flat. She asked whether I'd consider going to see Marina. To try and patch up the relationship. I didn't go, didn't like the idea.'
'Probably very wise. Are you hungry? I think I am.'
Paula had decided it was time to go to the restaurant before Coral used the brandy bottle again. They had reached the front door when Paula noticed the simple lock.
'Covent Garden is getting all sorts of people floating round it these days. I'd feel happier if you installed better locks. Maybe a Banham and a Chubb.'
'How nice of you to think of my safety…'
'Do any of those three men come on to you?' Paula asked before they went outside.
'No trouble from Nelson. Sometimes I don't like the way Benton looks at me when he's wearing those rimless specs. The one I have to fend off is Noel, but I can handle him. I'm afraid I'm not really dressed for dinner.'
Paula looked at her. Coral had her glorious crown of red hair piled up on top. She gave Coral a quick squeeze as she spoke.
'You look gorgeous. And I'm not exactly dressed for the Ritz. Neither will some of the other women be fit for a fashion parade!'
Once outside, she was immediately aware of the chill, but Coral had slipped on a jacket. Paula glanced around casually. No sign of her 'protectors' but she knew they would be there.
'Marina? A twin sister?' The surprise was evident in Tweed's voice.
Paula had just returned very late from her visit to Coral. The only other occupants in the office were Marler and Monica.
'And where are the three I sent to watch over you?' Tweed demanded fiercely.
'Not to worry,' replied Paula, perched on the edge of his desk. 'Newman escorted me here, saw me safely inside, then said he was going back to his car. I think he's gone back to join Pete and Harry. I suspect they're staying for some time, watching the entrance to Coral's flat, now I've gone. Which I think is smart. Maybe someone else watched me leave.'
'In that case they are smart. They're acting on the advice I've hammered into everybody. Think for yourselves. Now tell me about your evening.'
'Before I start, here are Marina's details. Address and so on.'
Tweed handed the folded sheet to Monica, asked her to record it. She opened the sheet, looked at it, returned it to Tweed.
'I've memorized it. I'll transfer it to the key address book.'
Paula had a lot to say. She recalled every word of her conversation with Coral, adding her own thoughts as she continued. She was aware that, behind her, Monica was using her hundred-and-thirty-words-a-minute shorthand to take down every detail.
As she'd expected, Tweed became a Buddha, sitting motionless, his eyes never leaving hers. His powers of concentration were legendary. She waved a hand as she concluded.
'Now you have the lot. Interesting?'
'And I've got the lot,' Monica called out. 'I'll type you a report. How many copies?'
'Five, please,' Tweed told her. 'A copy for each member of the team. It's so important everyone has the data in this situation. Paula, interesting? I think it was vital you decided to go and see Coral. Significant is the word.'
'Why?' Paula asked.
'Because the Parrot is playing a devious game. Also because now we know of the existence of Marina. I shall have to go and see her.'
'Want me to come with you?' Paula suggested ironically. 'To protect you?'
'So far I've been pretty good at protecting myself against alluring and predatory women. And thank you, Paula, for doing such a professional job. Now I'm going to do something I should have done earlier, but we've been chock-a-block.'
'What's that?'
'I intend,' he said after checking his watch again, 'to visit the scene of the crime in Fox Street. If I go now I should arrive at roughly the time Saafeld said the hideous crime was committed.'
'I'm coming with you, of course,' said Marler.
'I agree,' Tweed said reluctantly.
He could hardly have refused. Not when he was hammering on about everyone's safety. He stood up and Paula slipped off the edge of his desk. He took hold of her shoulders and again his voice was fierce.
'You are not allowed to leave this building until someone – Newman, Pete or Harry – has got back. They will escort you home, will check out every corner in your flat before you enter it, then they will sleep on that sofa in the living room, or in the spare bedroom. ..'
'Oh, for Heaven's sake,' Monica burst out. 'They'd do that anyway. Are you suffering from paranoia?'
Tweed made no reply, but grabbed his coat, and put it on as he went down the stairs followed by Marler. Outside the night was fresh a
nd colder. Tweed opened the car, slipped in behind the wheel as Marler dived into the rear.
The passenger door next to Tweed was opened, and Paula was on the seat next to him as he switched on the engine. She slammed her door shut. Tweed opened his mouth but she beat him to it.
'No argument. You've said before I take over if you're out of action. On top of that I'm well guarded with the two of you. And, on top of that, we're visiting the flat of a poor woman – woman – who was foully murdered. I'm a woman. I could spot something a man could miss.'
Tweed, driving away from Park Crescent, had opened and closed his mouth twice. Like a fish, Marler thought, watching him in the rear-view mirror. Tweed's mind was revolving as he drove on, heading towards Covent Garden.
Paranoia, Monica had said. Could she be right? Was he in danger of overdoing his warnings? Paula had done a good job, extracting information from Coral, and some of it might eventually lead them to the psychopathic murderer.
'You've got a point,' he ultimately admitted.
Paula showed no elation, no hint of triumph. She was gazing out as they neared their destination. Fox Street, a name which would go down in the history of criminology.
No one was about at this depressing hour. The car wobbled over cobbles. They had entered Fox Street. Tweed slowed the car to a crawl. It was a narrow street, with poor illumination from ancient lamps protruding from walls on metal arms.
'Nearly there,' Paula said. 'Within yards…'
She had been checking the house numbers, which were lit up by lights behind them. Tweed parked on the pavement. They could now see the notorious house, police tape still strung across it. As they got out the door opened, Marler had his gun in his hand.
'It's Chief Inspector Hammer,' Tweed warned.