The Savage Gorge tac-24

by Colin Forbes

  'We're going there in my car,' Tweed told him. 'Give you a lift.'

  'There are some gentlemen left in this mess of a world,' he growled. 'I accept your offer gratefully.'

  Paula opened the front passenger door of the Audi, gestured with a smile. He quietened down, gave her a grateful warm smile, climbed aboard as she closed the door and parked herself in the back seat as Tweed took over behind the wheel.

  As they were approaching the country road turn-off to Hobart House they saw Mrs Grout watering plant pots placed on either side of her red front door. Bullerton pointed at her and snorted contemptuously.

  'Barmy old bag. Crocodiles! '

  SEVENTEEN

  Margot opened the front door, Bullerton pushed past her, calling over his shoulder that he had a pile of work waiting in his study. Margot had to jump aside to avoid being knocked over.

  'Good morning, Margot,' Tweed greeted her with a warm smile. 'I need to talk to just you and Sable.'

  'Do we have to drag in Sable?'

  'I do need to talk to the two of you together. No one else present.'

  'OK. Sable's in the library. Not in the best of moods, so life is normal,' she concluded with a mischievous grin. As they reached the library door she paused. 'That was catty of me. I erase the remark.. .'

  She was smartly turned out, wearing white roll-neck jumper, a checked pleated skirt, sensible flat-heeled shoes.

  'Company, Sable,' she announced as they entered.

  Scowling, Sable sat at a desk with papers spread untidily over its surface, her blonde head bent over them.

  'Tell them to go to hell,' she rasped. Tm busy with university homework.' Then she looked up, saw who the visitors were. Her attitude was transformed. The scowl was replaced by a flashing welcoming smile. Jumping up, she ran to Tweed, threw both arms round him, hugged a little too passionately, watching Margot over his shoulder.

  Releasing him she held out her hand to Paula, squeezed it warmly. Leading them both to a couch, she ignored Margot. She was taking control.

  'Drinks?' she offered as they sat down. 'I'm on vodka – helps me plough through dull work. Vodka for both of you? Or coffee or tea?' She glared at Margot. 'What are you hanging around for? They've come to see me.'

  'Actually,' Tweed said firmly, 'I need to talk to both of you together. And I'd like a small glass of Chardonnay, if that's possible.'

  'For me too,' Paula said quickly.

  'Coming up…'

  Sable was more daringly dressed than her sister. As she bent to fetch a bottle, bending to a lower shelf, her short skirt rode up, exposing most of her excellent legs. Her blouse dipped, showing the tops of two well-shaped bosoms. She came back with two glasses on a silver tray.

  'I think I'll have Chardonnay too,' Margot chipped in.

  'Well, you know where the bottle is,' snapped Sable but Margot was already helping herself.

  When she came back she sat next to Paula. She adjusted her skirt to cover her elegant knees. Sable was now seated in an imposing carver chair on the other side of the desk, elevated above them.

  'Cheers!' said Margot, raising her glass. 'Now, how can we help you?'

  'I have detected in this house an atmosphere of unease,' Tweed began. 'Have you any idea what causes it? One person? If so, who?'

  'This is a house of hatred,' Sable burst out. 'We all have to fight our corner to survive,' she said viciously. 'Father is a problem. Sometimes moody – once said he wished we'd never been born. ..'

  'That's a wild exaggeration,' Margot protested.

  'At other times he's so generous with presents.' She touched the expensive diamond brooch attached to her blouse, gazed maliciously at Margot.

  'I'd say,' Margot insisted, 'we're just an average family who have disagreements now and again.'

  'Bollocks!' Sable burst out again.

  'Our guests are accustomed to using decent lan guage,' Margot said quietly.

  'All right!' Sable shouted, then quietened down. 'I apologize for using the word.' She glared at Margot. 'It would be my older sister to pick me up on that.'

  'I'm one year older than Sable,' Margot said, again quietly.

  'What do you both think of your brother, Lance?' Tweed asked.

  'He's a pain -' Sable began.

  'He keeps to himself,' Margot explained. 'Understandable being so out-numbered by sisters.'

  'Does he go to London frequently?' Tweed said, speaking rapidly, determined to get quick answers before either sister could think.

  'Frequently,' replied Margot.

  'When he's not fooling around with the local talent,' sneered her sister.

  'I gather he's determined under no circumstances to be the next Lord Bullerton…'

  'Inside this house,' Sable said. 'But he keeps quiet in the Village, in Gunners Gorge and round the countryside.'

  'Why would he do that?' rapped out Tweed.

  'Because,' Sable said with an unpleasant grin, 'it impresses the aristo girls he lures to his flat. The clots think it's great to spend a night or two with the future Lord Bullerton.'

  'Aristo girls?' queried Tweed.

  'Members of the aristocracy,' Sable explained. 'The horsey set. Quite a few are my friends so I hear what's going on. Margot is never asked to their parties,' she concluded triumphantly.

  'Don't know them,' Margot remarked coolly. 'Don't want to. I don't like horses. Don't ride. Bit of a bore.'

  'Fact is,' Sable elaborated as she hitched her jumper higher, 'no one would dream of inviting her. Not their circle.'

  'Where does Mrs Shipton come from?' Tweed asked suddenly.

  He's using his tactic, Paula thought, of changing the subject without warning to throw people off balance.

  'Mrs Shipton?' Sable echoed vaguely.

  'Yes, Mrs Shipton,' Tweed repeated emphatically. 'My question was clear enough.' He turned to Margot, who nodded before she replied.

  'We really have no idea. She just turned up when Father was desperate for someone to run the house.'

  'So,' Sable broke in, annoyed that the attention had swung away from her, 'he offered her the crown jewels by way of a salary and she accepted. As to where she comes from I have no damned idea. Oh, excuse me.'

  'You have both been most helpful,' Tweed said, rising. 'I am grateful for the time you've given us. Tomorrow Paula and I are travelling to London for a couple of days before we come back. I have to check the situation at HQ.'

  They had reached the closed door when Sable darted ahead of them so beat Margot to opening it. Tweed pressed one hand against it and fired his last shot. 'Lord Bullerton, does he often travel to London?'

  'Very often,' Sable said before Margot could reply, 'says he's going on business for a few days.' She smirked. 'I've seen the business, so-called. I was in Mayfair once, saw him chatting up an attractive woman in a tight dress. Then they disappeared together into a very expensive block of fiats where the "lady" probably has a suite. I suppose he has to have his fling regularly. Bet it's a different woman each time. He's too smart to risk being tied to one woman even for what he's needing, being a man.'

  Glancing back as they left the room, Paula saw Margot with her eyes raised to heaven at Sable's crude way of expressing herself. She gave Paula a lovely smile and a little wave of her hand.

  'Was it worth it?' Paula asked as they drove away.

  'I found it very significant what Margot said, even more so what Sable said.'

  'And you're not going to tell me yet?'

  'Not until I'm sure I'm right. Incidentally, how long would it take you to get packed for immediate depar ture?'

  'One minute. I'm always packed for any emer gency.'

  'Good. Because as soon as we get back to the Nag's Head we're driving south to Marler's boat and sailing to Noak. That talk about leaving tomorrow was camouflage. I'm sure Sable won't be able to help spilling the beans to someone. Marler has been alerted. He's warned Harry. I don't want MacBlade or Falkirk to know…'

  As they arrived back at the ga
rage, Marler appeared from nowhere with Harry. He told Tweed they were ready to leave now. Looking at Paula he smiled.

  'Hope you don't mind riding as my passenger in my Maserati – on the motorway for a lot of the trip.'

  'I’ d love that,' she fibbed as her stomach flipped.

  'Tweed drives the Audi with the armour plate and armoured glass, taking Harry as passenger.'

  He broke off as Lance walked in from the hotel. He wore a long white pullover and plaid trousers. He greeted them with a warm smile.

  'Off somewhere, are we?'

  'To London. Tomorrow,' Tweed said quickly. 'We're checking the state of our transport.'

  'You'll be coming back, I hope?'

  'At the latest two days after tomorrow,' Tweed assured him.

  'I mustn't linger. Busy day ahead of me.'

  As he spoke he jumped on a brand-new Harley- Davidson motorbike and left the garage at speed, driving up the High Street. Paula watched him as he pulled in at a house halfway up the street, ran to the door, which was opening. A tall well-built blonde appeared holding a shopping carrier. She kissed him, he patted her on the rump, she walked away as he closed the door.

  'Another arista victim,' Paula commented. 'Bet he's packing her bag, ready to dump it on the doorstep…'

  'I've got the special weapons you suggested,' Harry reported to Tweed.

  'Time to move,' said Tweed. 'Now! ' He looked at Marler. I’d like to know where we're going.'

  'Seaward Cove, border of Somerset and Devon. We'll be there before night. Cove is remote, size of an oyster shell…'

  EIGHTEEN

  With Marler at the wheel and Paula beside him, Hobartshire passed in a flash as they headed south. Turning onto the motorway, Marler pressed his foot down. They flew.

  As far as Paula could tell, Marler kept just within all speed limits – she knew he had an instinct for speed traps. The drive was an experience she would never forget. Scenery passed in a blur – rolling green hills, a dense wood, a vast rocky quarry where strange machines prowled. Marler, wearing tinted goggles, had long ago passed her a pair to counter the searchlight glare of the sun burning out of an endless blue sky.

  Some time before, Marler had turned south-west. Paula's thick glossy black hair was streaming out behind her. She found a pink ribbon, tied her hair into a ponytail. Later Marler pointed to a plastic box.

  'Food,' he said abruptly.

  She extracted thick salmon sandwiches, fed Marler as he continued driving, then herself. There was Evian water to quench their thirst. By now Paula was relaxed. I could get used to driving like this, she thought.

  Occasionally she glanced in the rear-view mirror, at first surprised to find the heavy armoured Audi was only a hundred yards behind them, then remembering Harry had souped up its engine.

  'Can you find out,' she asked Marler, 'when we are about half an hour from our destination?'

  'You ask Ben,' he said, handing her his mobile after pressing umpteen buttons.

  'Ben here. Who the hell is this?' a rough voice answered.

  She identified them, giving the name of a winding village Marler had been compelled to crawl through. The rough voice wasted no time.

  'Thirty minutes from now, the way Marler drives.'

  Paula contacted Tweed on her mobile, which he still possessed. Her reminder was short. 'Paula here. The bottle, Tweed. Now!'

  In the Audi, Tweed reached for the twist of paper inside which he had folded a Dramamine tablet. Tactfully, Harry handed him a bottle of Evian water without a word. Tweed swallowed the tablet.

  The one aversion Tweed had was the sea. He dis liked even looking at it from firm land. 'It never stops wobbling about,' he had once explained to Paula. She knew this and always persuaded her chief to take pre cautions.

  'How much further, I wonder?' speculated Harry. 'The sun is dropping into lower orbit.'

  'Another thirty minutes and we're there,' Tweed replied. 'I gather we arrive just before dusk and go aboard the Tiger as soon as we get there.'

  'The Tiger?'

  'Name of the ship we travel on.'

  'Don't like the sound of it.'

  'Join the club,' Tweed commented.

  'Are we travelling on a big ship?' Paula asked Marler.

  'Surprisingly big. Even has a luxury stateroom. Compact but cosy.'

  'How did Ben afford such a vessel?'

  'Ben fished for prawns,' Marler chuckled. 'Off the cove there's a whole fleet of them. Biggest you've ever seen. He makes a fortune selling them to top London restaurants. Look at one of their menus. Prawns head the list for price.'

  Marler stopped talking as the landscape changed dramatically. Great granite bluffs reared up out of scrubby grass on both sides. Vaguely it reminded Paula of pictures she had seen of Utah, but minus the columnar chimneys of stone. Here and there a stub born pine with a massive trunk lent a touch of green.

  Marler slowed as they climbed a ridge on the nar rowing tarmacadam road. Once they crossed the ridge, the road dropped steeply. Paula almost gasped at the view of the vast sea which stretched forever towards a distant horizon. It was dusk and the sun, which had slid below the horizon, seemed to illumi nate the Channel from below with a weird aquamarine glow.

  'There it is. Seaward Cove,' Marler told her.

  'That's a cove?' she asked in disbelief.

  She was looking down on a gash, long and narrow, piercing the massive cliffs. Projecting from the shore was a large stone jetty, curved like a sickle, presumably to take the force of giant waves in a storm. Moored to its inner wall was a large slim ship with a small funnel.

  'Ben can't get that ship out of that channel,' she protested.

  'He will. Only way out.'

  She was relieved from Tweed's point of view that the ocean was more like a flat blue plate: not a ripple in sight. They reached the landing point in no time. Tweed's Audi parked behind them.

  A short heavily built man in his fifties with a very wide chest came out of a large shed. He shook hands only with Paula, pointed to the shed.

  'That's home and where I prepare the prawns for despatch to London.' He looked at Marler. 'Four hours I calculate to get to this invisible Noak Island, four to get back, so how long you gonna be foolin' around there?'

  'About one hour, maybe longer. Depends on the element of danger,' Tweed told the old ruffian.

  'Danger!' Ben glared at Marler. 'You never said a thing about that. Cost you another ten thousand quid on top of the fee.'

  'Come off it,' Marler told Ben with a grin. 'You know that anything I'm involved in can turn ugly.'

  'All right.' Ben cupped his hands round his mouth. 'All of you aboard. We have to be back here before dawn. Jump to it!'

  Paula ran forward, skipped up the gangplank, ignoring Ben's shout. 'Hold on to the flamin' rails!'

  He pulled his peaked cap lower over his broad forehead. This time he kept his voice down as he spoke to Tweed as he was about to go aboard.

  'That girl is agile! – and very tough, I suspect.'

  'She's in her thirties,' Tweed retorted and ran up the gangway.

  He followed her along a companionway, through an open door, down some steps into a luxurious stateroom. She sprawled on a comfortable couch at the other end. They heard voices from the dock.

  'What's in that big bag, mate?'

  'My lunch,' Harry's voice shouted back. Tut a sock in it and get this old tub moving…'

  Ben appeared at the entrance to the stateroom. He pointed forward.

  'Galley's at that end. Fridge is jam-packed. You could cook us some plaice and chips. OK?'

  'If I feel like it,' Paula snapped back.

  Minutes later they felt movement. Tiger was about to navigate the impossible channel. As the ship swung round to clear the end of the jetty Tweed jumped up, opened a second door, ran up a flight of steps and was on the enclosed bridge. Marler was leaning through an open window on the starboard side, waving his hand to the left frantically. They were heading straight for a j
agged spur of rock protruding into the channel, a spur which could rip a huge hole in the hull. He looked at Ben, who was already turning the ship to port. Peering over Marler's shoulders Tweed saw they slipped past the spur with a clearance of barely two feet. They emerged into the calm open sea.

  'You can take over the wheel now, Marler,' shouted Ben. 'I have plotted the course from the map you sent me by courier. Just keep your ruddy eye on the com pass.'

  With Marler behind the wheel, Ben opened the door to the stateroom. Paula was sitting up, legs curled like a cat's, studying a marine report.

  'You're supposed to be cooking!' Ben bellowed. 'Can't you find the ruddy galley?'

  'Cooking is not in the contract,' Paula snapped without looking up. 'Shouldn't you be on the bridge, as captain of this old tub?'

  Ben muttered an oath under his breath, slammed the door shut. On the bridge Tweed was standing close to Marler, staring ahead with fascination at the incredible vastness of the Atlantic. The Tiger's port and starboard running lights were on. Ben saw him looking at them.

  'Need 'em on in case we run into a Coastguard patrol. Further out I switches 'em off. Marler marked

  Noak Island on the map he sent me. Talk about isolation – no airline flies near the place. And it's miles off any shipping route.'

  'Mr Neville Guile likes his privacy,' Tweed said to himself.

  Paula appeared and saw Harry, who had headed for the bridge as soon as he came aboard. Typically, he sat in a corner of the deck, knees bunched underneath him. He had his bag open, which carried an amazing mix of weapons and tools. He saw her watching him. She settled down beside him.

  'What are these secret weapons you keep so quiet about? I might have to use one.'

  Put your gloves on. The devices are slippery.'

  He shifted position so they were shielded from the others. Out of the bag his gloved hand produced a cylindrical object about a foot long with a switch turned to green. Pushed forward it would point to red.

  'For Pete's sake, and mine,' he whispered, 'don't touch that switch. You do and this whole ship explodes in flames, the sea boils. It's new, invented by Mac down in the boffins' basement.'