The Cauldron (13 page)

In mid-river Brand threw the whisky glass overboard, then the knife. A powerboat going up the creek would have attracted attention. Now, with the dinghy attached to its stern, the powerboat began speeding back towards the
Venetia
.

8

'Yes, Ethan. Since it is unusual for you to call me I am hoping this is good news.' said Moloch, leaning forward over the desk in his office at Mullion Towers.

"The operation is well advanced.' Ethan's subdued voice informed him. 'I know it will work. In a matter of weeks or maybe much sooner.'

'And the explosive test? Xenobium.'

He said the last word quickly. There was a pause and Moloch gripped the phone more tightly.

'Successful., More powerful even than we expected.'

'Good. Thank you for keeping me in touch...' It was this phone call which decided him to return to the States immediately. He contacted Vanity Richmond on her mobile. Then he phoned the Venetia, ordered the pilot to fly the chopper to Mullion Towers to pick him up and take him on to Newquay airport where the jet was waiting. His final call was to the pilot of the jet.

He had deliberately let no one else know his destination - except for Vanity Richmond. Typically, he wanted to arrive at his main HQ at Black Ridge in California unexpectedly. It was a method he frequently used - partly to keep his movements secret, partly to see what had been going on in his absence. He trusted no one completely.

In the dining room at Nansidwell Paula had glanced several times at Newman's table. His conversation with Vanity appeared to be going well, but knowing Newman so long Paula detected something guarded about his manner. He's not swallowing all her guff, she thought as she left the room.

She found Tweed drinking coffee in one of the lounges and signalled to him, then walked out into the courtyard. Tweed finished his coffee, stood up, stretched, left the other guests and wandered out as though he felt like some fresh air.

'I overheard Vanity Richmond using her mobile phone out here ...' she began.

Tweed listened as she relayed the gist of what had been said. His expression didn't change as they continued walking up the bush-lined drive out of sight of the hotel and along a side road.

"This is important news.' he said eventually. 'You did well to catch all that. It could be sinister - the fact that he told Vanity to stay in sight of people all evening. I don't like the implications of that one bit. Also the fact that he's suddenly taking off for the States. Do you fancy a stroll into Mawnan Smith? Good. I think I'd better use the phone box Newman used -1 need to inform Cord Dillon of this development.'

They turned round, took the road direct into the village. It was a very warm night and Tweed took off his jacket as they quickened their pace.

'Bob seems to have struck up a friendship with that Vanity woman.' Paula observed.

'I know. Bob is playing a wily game. She'll be like putty in his hands. He'll get more out of her than she will ever get out of him. He knows she's Moloch's confidante. I did get the chance to tell him while you were having a bath and changing.'

"Thank Heaven he's clued up.'

'No woman has ever fooled Bob Newman - at least not for long

Paula waited outside the box in the village while Tweed made his call via the international operator. He always carried plenty of change for emergencies like this. It would be 5 p.m. in Langley, he calculated, waiting for the call to go through. Dillon's time zone was five hours behind London's.

'Cord, Tweed here. I've just heard VB is flying back to the States - to California. He may take off tomorrow morning. I suspect something momentous is imminent. I gather it was probably a quick decision.'

'Got it. OK. I know his transatlantic flights system. He flies to New York, gets the Lear jet refuelled, then flies nonstop to California. I'll have a man waiting at Kennedy in New York, another one at San Francisco International. That way we can track him.'

'I'm asking Monica to call Jim Corcoran, a friend and Security Chief at Heathrow. He'll be able to tell when VB is leaving Britain. She'll call you.'

"That would help. Washington is in a growing panic over VB, the power he has built up in the heart of government over here. They can't do anything about it -unless someone can catch him out in a big scam, something horrendously illegal. He has, of course, a whole battery of top attorneys.'

'Anything else?'

'Something I forgot to tell you. He has erected a series of dome-shaped buildings on the hills overlooking the Pacific - all the way from south of LA and north via Big Sur. They're supposed to be observatories, the most modern in the world.'

'Didn't know he was interested in astronomy.' commented Tweed. "They sound like eyesores. It's a wonder they were sanctioned in that beautiful scenic section of the coast.'

'He's been clever again. Each one is painted a colour to merge it within the surrounding countryside. They all have a view of the ocean.'

'Very strange. Can't you have them checked?'

'Me? You're joking. He did invite certain scientists to visit several on different days a while ago. Each had a giant telescope inside it.'

'I still find the idea of those buildings strange, even sinister.'

'You've got a reason for saying that?'

'No. Just a feeling,' Tweed said vaguely. Take care.'

'You do just that. You're dealing with a man who can get away with just about anything. Maybe even murder. Look at how seven of his girl friends vanished off the face of the planet.'

'I have a theory about that. No, I -won't burden you with it. Rather too bizarre. Keep in touch...'

Tweed then phoned Monica, gave her instructions about calling Jim Corcoran. He came out, told Paula on their way back about his conversations. She checked her watch.

'It's much later than I thought. It was a leisurely dinner and your calls took up more time.'

'I had to wait until they found Cord.'

Later, when they wandered down the drive to Nansidwell, Paula went ahead, rushed back to warn Tweed to wait out of sight. She returned to the hotel where two police cars were stationed in the courtyard, their lights flashing as though they'd forgotten to turn them off - or the occupants had been in a hurry.

She approached the entrance slowly, peered inside, and a woman guest she'd chatted to rushed up to her.

"There's been a murder. Everyone is excited - some are annoyed at being kept up out of bed ...'

Paula had glanced over her shoulder. She saw a tall lanky man with a neat moustache in civilian clothes talking to Newman. She froze, got a grip on herself.

'Who was murdered?' she asked quietly.

'I don't know ...'

'Excuse me, I need a breath of fresh air. Had a long drive in the car.'

She found Tweed calmly waiting at the entrance to the long drive. He knew from her expression that something serious had happened.

'What is it?'

"There's been a murder. Don't know who, where. Two police cars outside the entrance. Inside someone you know and will be pleased to see - I don't think - is questioning Bob. Your old sparring partner, Chief Inspector Roy Buchanan. Of all people - this distance from New Scotland Yard ...'

'You and I have just been for a walk after a large meal - into Mawnan Smith and back. No mention of my phone calls.' Tweed said briskly. 'We'll go in now. If Roy is in sight I'll go straight up to him...'

Buchanan was still questioning Newman, sitting down now on a couch in the lounge he'd had cleared. The other guests were crammed into the other lounge and looked not best pleased. Extra chairs had been taken in for them and Buchanan's assistant, the wooden-faced Sergeant Warden, was watching over them. Buchanan looked up as Tweed and Paula walked across to him.

'Long time no see,' Tweed said cheerfully. 'Down here for the sea breezes?'

'Hardly.' Buchanan's long lean face had a bleak expression. He turned to Newman. "That will be all for now. I may wish to see you later. You may go.'

'I'm staying right here.' Newman informed him.

"This is a very serious matter. I wish to talk to Tweed and Miss Grey.'

'Are you charging me?' Newman demanded.

'Of course not.'

"Then I can stay where I want to. Like here.'

Buchanan sighed. Tweed was bringing two chairs, one for Paula, the other for himself. He placed them close to the two men on the couch, they sat down and Buchanan started speaking in a lowered voice to avoid guests in the other lounge hearing him.

'Do you know a man called Adrian Penkastle?'

'Who is he?' Tweed asked.

'A man who lived on his own in a tiny house at Forth Navas. On the edge of the creek.'

'What's he done?' Tweed asked.

'He got himself murdered in his own house early this evening. That's a guesstimate on the part of the doctor who examined the corpse. A pathologist is on his way down from London. We'll know the time of death better when he has carried out the autopsy in Truro.'

'Tweed, it's no use denying you know him. We have a witness who described a woman who apparently accosted Penkastle on the road on the other side of the creek. The description fits Miss Grey perfectly RIGHT SQUARE BRACKET '

'I did encounter a portly man at Forth Navas who was drunk.' Paula broke in. 'I tried to talk some sense into him. I was worried he'd topple into the creek. Tweed has never met him.' she went on, talking rapidly. 'I'd never seen him before.'

'How drunk was he?'

'He was pretty far gone.'

'So you did your good deed for the day.' Buchanan remarked ironically.

"That's enough of that, Roy.' Tweed interjected. 'Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit. Dr Johnson coined that phrase, at least I think it was him. If you want to continue talking to Paula mind your manners.'

Buchanan flushed at the rebuke. Tweed had provoked him deliberately and he watched the policeman fighting for self-control. Tweed decided to switch the direction the interrogation was taking.

'Would you be willing to tell us how Adrian Penkastle was murdered?'

'Professionally.' Buchanan replied after a pause. 'He was stabbed to the heart, probably with some stiletto-like instrument, maybe a knife. He was very drunk at the time. The room smelt of whisky fumes.'

Newman folded his arms, still sitting next to Buchanan. It was his only reaction to what he was recalling -the thug with the knife at Mullion Towers whose hand he had burned with his cigarette end. His knife had been a stiletto type.

'Let's go into the dining room, which is empty. We can talk more easily there.' Buchanan suggested.

He stood up, had a brief word with Sergeant Warden, then led the way into the dining room, choosing a table well away from the windows. They all sat down. Buchanan's manner was more relaxed as he stretched his long legs under the table and crossed them at the ankles. Tweed instantly became even more alert. He knew the detective well.

'I wish you'd be franker with me, Tweed.' he said amiably.

'Franker?' Tweed queried.

'Oh, come on. I checked the hotel register. You're here with Paula and Newman. Somewhere floating around here is Marler. I've had policemen checking the nearby hotels. Harry Butler and Pete Nield are staying at the Meudon down the road. That's a very heavy team force you've assembled, so why are you all in this neck of woods?'

'On a mission. I can't reveal the details to you - you know we operate in secrecy.'

'Could it have something to do with the presence of Vincent Bernard Moloch at Mullion Towers?'

Tweed was inwardly taken aback. So the anxiety about Moloch in London was so great a senior detective had been flown down - when what appeared to be on the surface a random murder had occurred. He countered with his own question.

'May I ask how you got down to Cornwall so quickly? I gather the murder of this man, Penkastle, took place early in the evening. His body must have been discovered quickly.'

'It was. A drinking partner of Penkastle's called at his house at a time which must have been soon after the murder was committed. He phoned up police headquarters in Truro, a town the caller knows well.'

'But why should the murder of a man who, so far as I can gather, and with respect, had little importance in the world, cause someone like you to be sent down here at the double?'