The Cauldron (15 page)

Tweed had parked the car inside the Yacht Club so as not to block the road. Walking back along the deserted and silent road, Paula noticed the tide was out. What had earlier been a channel of water was now a bed of mud, slimy ooze in the moonlight.

'I wouldn't like to live here.' she remarked. 'Look at the creek now. A great sight to view from your window.'

'Not very inviting.' Tweed agreed. 'And that is what it will look like for hours. Every time the tide recedes you're staring at a mud bath. When I was down here the last time I noticed that. Up at a place called Mylor. It lasted all the time I was in the house I was visiting. In a pub an estate agent told me a lot of his London clients purchased property in summer. They spent a year there and came to him again - to sell. Funny, there are no lights in Maurice's place, The Ark.'

'Very weird,' said Paula. 'He knew we were coming. Lord, has something happened?'

'I hope not,' Tweed replied grimly, quickening his pace. 'I just hope we haven't arrived too late...'

They approached the darkened house. No other residence along the road had lights on, but it was the darkness of The Ark which held their gaze. Paula had her Browning in her hand as they came to the steps leading up to the front door. The silence hanging over the creek was beginning to unnerve her.

Tweed checked the windows masked by net curtains. No sign anywhere of the inner curtains being closed. He went up the steps with Paula beside him, paused, uncertain whether to raise the heavy anchor-shaped knocker or not.

The door opened slowly and Prendergast stood there with a warm smile. He gestured for them to enter.

'Welcome, both of you. And you look so worried.' he said to Paula and kissed her on the cheek before shutting the door.

'Wait just a moment.' he went on, 'and I'll close all the curtains. Sorry if I startled you, but I decided to take precautions. I saw you through the net curtains when you were close to the house. What would you like to drink?'

'I think I could do with a small whisky.' Paula replied.

'I'll have one, too.' Tweed said, surprising Paula, who knew he rarely drank.

'We believe you are the next target for whoever murdered Adrian Penkastle.' Tweed told him after taking a sip of his drink. 'You most certainly are wise to be on guard.'

'I knew you'd arrived.' their host remarked. 'I saw you driving your car slowly along to where you could park.'

'Who killed Penkastle?'

Tweed, you expect miracles. I have no idea. I found the body only yesterday evening when I drove to see what Adrian was up to.'

'And reported it back to your superiors.'

'I told you I was retired.'

'Cock and bull story. Or rather, a cover story. You're as active as ever you were.' Tweed hammered at him.

'If you say so.'

'I would also like to know whether you reported that Paula was present here last night - that she met Penkastle when she ran outside.' Tweed leaned forward. 'Now I expect the truth.'

Prendergast paused. He didn't look at Paula, who was staring straight at him. He gave a shrug of resignation.

Tm afraid that was exactly what I did. I had to convince my superiors I was giving them the full data. You may not believe this, but I was trying to get into their thick heads that you were ahead of them in the game, that they should damned well cooperate with you. I feel very strongly about that.'

'I believe you.' Tweed said quietly.

'And I apologize without reservation to you.' Prendergast said, turning to Paula. 'If you hate my guts I wouldn't blame you.'

'I don't hate your guts, Maurice.' Paula told him. 'But you ought to know that I was interrogated by one of the Yard's top men, Roy Buchanan. He'd flown straight down here after your superiors had - obviously - reported what you had told them to the Commissioner.'

'Oh, my God!' Prendergast was clearly appalled. 'I have made a complete balls-up. I should never have told them about you. But I never dreamt the wets would pass it on to anyone - let alone the Commissioner.'

"They want to maintain a low profile.' said Tweed. 'Now, I'll ask you again, who do you think killed Penkastle?'

'One of Vincent Bernard Moloch's thugs.' Prendergast replied instantly.

'Maybe. But we don't know it was on Moloch's orders. Not yet, anyway.'

Tweed felt relieved. He had smoked out Prendergast, a very efficient officer in Special Branch, into the open. They now had a strong ally, which might come in very useful at some stage.

Their host offered them more to drink. Both refused and Prendergast was pouring himself a refresher when there was a knock on the door. Paula looked at Tweed, dived her right hand inside the special pocket inside her shoulder bag, gripped the Browning. Prendergast seemed least disturbed.

"That will be Charlie. Local character who stays up half the night. An insomniac. He comes about this time for a brief chat. Harmless ...'

Before Tweed could stop him, Prendergast had reached the door, opened it.

'Urgent message from London, Mr Prendergast.'

'How did you get down here?'

'Motorcycle. I'm a courier.'

As he said this, Gene threw the contents of the open can of pepper into Prendergast's eyes. Prendergast flung a hand up, instinctively took a step back into the room. Gene followed him, the stiletto in his right hand, ready to plunge into his target's chest.

Holding her Browning by the barrel, Paula reached Gene, brought down the butt on his wrist. At the last moment Gene let his wrist drop to minimize the force of the blow. Realizing he was outnumbered, he grasped Paula in an armlock round the neck. His right hand still gripped the knife which he held against her throat.

'Get back, you friggin' lot,' he screamed, 'or she gets her throat slit ear to ear. You drop the friggin' gun or get your head cut off,' he ordered Paula.

She had no option - she dropped the Browning. Tweed had reached Gene a second too late, his right hand stiffened to administer a blow to the bridge of his nose which would have killed him. He watched as Gene dragged Paula to the open door, carefully down the steps, along the road towards where his car was parked.

Tweed followed grimly, keeping his steps in pace with Gene's car. Prendergast was still in his kitchen, trying to clear his eyes of pepper although he knew what was going on.

Along the road Tweed was keeping up the macabre death march. He was careful to stay a good twelve paces behind Gene, who kept glancing backwards and then forwards to where his car was waiting. Tweed had picked up Paula's Browning and held it by his side. Gene screamed at him.

'Stop following me or I'll rip her throat to pieces.'

Tweed made no immediate reply. He just continued to march forward, maintaining his distance from Gene and Paula, powerless in Gene's tight grip, only too aware of the cold steel touching her throat. Tweed kept silent, guessing that this would rattle the thug more than anything.

Suddenly they heard the sound of a car approaching. It stopped. Behind the wheel of the Merc. Newman switched on his lights full beam. They silhouetted Gene with his captive. Newman stared in horror. He turned off the engine but kept his lights on.

Turn out those friggin' lights or this woman has a red circle round her throat...'

'Bob.' Tweed called out, his voice calm, 'do as he says. He has a knife at Paula's throat.'

Newman obeyed the order instantly. By his side Marler, his Armalite rifle across his lap, calculated whether he could hit Gene with one quick shot. He realized he couldn't - Paula was too close to her captor.

'Tell him to back that car off the road.' screamed Gene.

'Do what he says, Bob.' Tweed ordered.

Newman began reversing his car onto the main road and then waited, feeling helpless. Tweed had half-closed his eyes when he'd heard the car coming so he was. not affected by the glare, nor by the lights going off. He continued his slow, deliberate march, gun still by his side.

'Stop following me.' screeched Gene, continuing to move closer to his car. 'Or she gets it.'

'If - you - harm - her - in - in - any – way.' Tweed said very slowly in a cold voice, 'I will shoot you first in one kneecap, then in the other kneecap - and then between the legs. Or perhaps you're not at all interested in women.'

There was something terrifying in the way Tweed delivered his message. Even in her frightened state Paula thought she had never heard before Tweed speak in such a steely voice.

His voice had the same effect on Gene, and Paula felt his grip tremble, then tighten on her. Tweed seemed to have turned into Nemesis, stalking his prey with a ferocity which chilled Gene. He kept her moving, but was continually glancing back at Tweed's almost casual tread.

'She'll be dead.' Gene called out in a desperate tone.

'You'll be crippled for the rest of your life.' responded Tweed in the same cold, deliberate voice.

'Just stop walking after me.' called out Gene, almost hysterically, 'if you want your girl friend alive.'

Tweed continued walking, still maintaining the same distance between himself and Gene who was now dragging Paula along the road. He had almost reached his car. He planned to take Paula with him as a hostage.

She suddenly sagged against him and Gene swore. She had fainted, was a dead weight he had to try and haul along with him. She had sagged backwards against him, and for a short time her throat was clear of his knife. Still twenty yards from the end of the creek - and his parked car - he tried to tighten his grip but he was startled by how heavily she seemed to weigh. Her eyes closed, she was pressed against his body as he turned again to check how close Tweed was from him.

A shot rang out, the bullet penetrating the back of Gene's skull. With Paula's head now lowered to his chest she was in no danger of being hit. Gene's head jerked under the impact of the bullet. The knife fell from his nerveless hand. He lost his grip on Paula, who dropped to the ground, her eyes wide open.

Gene staggered on the edge of the creek. His dead body toppled over the edge, fell heavily into the muddy creek. Tweed stood still, watching the mud engulf the body until it sank out of sight.

Shakily, Paula climbed to her feet with no trace of the faint, which she had faked. Marler appeared, holding his Armalite rifle. He had slipped out of Newman's car swiftly at a moment when Gene had looked back at Tweed. Positioning himself behind the wall of a house, he had focused his sniperscope on his target, firing once when the back of Gene's head was exposed.

He walked towards Paula, who braced her legs, ran to him and hugged him.

"Thank you. You saved my life.'

'You saved your own life.' Marler drawled offhandedly. 'By pretending to faint you gave me the one chance I needed to fire a safe shot. Look, someone has stumbled out of the only house with lights on.'

Paula swung round. Prendergast was standing in the road, a hand to his eyes as he peered along the road, trying to see what had happened. She ran to him, took him by the arm, guided him inside to minister to his eyes. She was glad of something practical to do to blot out the horror of her recent experience.

Tweed was staring down at the bed of mud where Gene had disappeared. Newman and Marler joined him.

'I think it will be a long time before that surfaces - if ever,' Tweed remarked.

'And the tide is surging up the creek,' Newman observed. 'What happened? I was petrified - couldn't do a thing.'

Tweed explained tersely the series of events.

'And what are you both doing down here?' he asked. 'Arriving in the nick of time,' he commented, glancing at Marler.

'We were talking outside behind my car in the courtyard.' Newman told him. 'We saw you leaving with Paula and decided to follow. I told you that you needed an armed escort.'

'I should have listened to you. I'm very grateful to both of you. Bob, because you took the decision. Marler because of your superb shooting.'

'Oh, I've had more difficult shots than that.' He looked along the road. 'And it appears that no one heard it.'

'And the body in the mud is really disappearing without any trace.' Newman pointed out.

Tweed looked down. The surge of the tide was slower as it reached the end of the creek but water now flowed over where Gene's body had fallen. He shrugged without a hint of regret.

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