The Cauldron (29 page)

I'll be in the dining room.' Alvarez assured him. 'But you probably won't see me.'

'If I want to visit Mrs Benyon I suppose I should phone to make an appointment?'

'Not necessary. She's always there. Just drop in on her, take her by surprise.'

'And on the way I'd like to look at the apartment where Linda Standish was murdered. I met her in London. Could that be arranged?'

'Easily. I know the detective from police headquarters down there who is in charge of the case. Guy called Jeff Anderson. Want to see him tomorrow? If so, what time?'

'It's a two-hour drive from" here, I understand. Do you think he could meet me at 12.30 p.m.? I have the address and know where the apartment is. You'll have to find out if it's convenient to Anderson.'

I'll make it convenient...'

Marler did not attend the dinner in the restaurant. He had disappeared after a word with Newman. When he returned to the hotel he was carrying a large holdall. He found Tweed's team, including Butler and Nield, sitting in the spacious room occupied by Paula.

She had slept for two hours after dinner and by midnight she was lively and fresh. She was sitting by a partly opened window when Newman let in Marler, carrying his heavy holdall. She was surprised at how alert Marler looked.

'Have you had anything to eat?' she asked.

'I had a bite or two at an all-night place. I've been to see an arms dealer - got his name long ago from someone I know in Strasbourg...'

He broke off as there was another tapping on the door and he shoved the holdall in a cupboard containing Paula's clothes. Newman opened the door and Alvarez walked in, gave everybody a smile showing his gleaming teeth. He was holding an envelope. He looked at Marler.

'Just returned from police headquarters. I've got papers for your armoury. Had to pull rank.'

'Armoury?' Paula queried.

Marler retrieved his holdall, took out a .32 Browning automatic, which he handed to Paula. Alvarez watched, gave her a sheet of paper from his envelope.

"That entitles you to carry the weapon, plus the extra ammo Marler has given you.'

Next Marler produced two Walther P38 automatics with magazines, handed one each to Butler and Nield. Alvarez gave them papers. Newman was glad to see a .38 Smith & Wesson, his favourite weapon, which Marler handed him as Alvarez gave him his sheet of paper. Paula was puzzled by the link-up between the two men.

'When was all this arranged?' she enquired.

'While you were going into dinner,' Alvarez told her. 'Marler gave me a list of weapons needed. While he obtained them I chased over to police HQ to get the permits.' He looked at Tweed. 'You weren't included on the list.'

'I never carry a gun.'

'Marler.' Alvarez went on, 'here's your paper for your own weapon. You must be a marksman.'

"The best in Western Europe.' Tweed told him.

'And, Marler,' Alvarez went on with his smile, 'have you got anything in that bag which you haven't shown me?'

'You said we were up against a tough mob.'

"The toughest.'

"Then you don't need to know what else I've got.'

'OK. You're responsible people. I'm going now but I'll have men patrolling this corridor outside all night long. We changed your reservations so you'd all be on the same floor. The management have been informed you are important people, that the orders come from Washington. Good night to all of you. Sleep well...'

When he had gone and the door was locked Marler dived again into his holdall. He brought out grenades, handed two to Paula and more to the others.

'Stun grenades?' Paula enquired.

'No, explosive grenades. You heard what Alvarez said - we are up against the toughest. And you all get smoke grenades. I like them.'

Finally, he brought out his own familiar weapon, a dismantled Armalite rifle with a sniperscope. He stroked it and drawled, 'Can't go far wrong with this.'

'And.' Newman interjected, 'I've hired two cars. A Mercedes and a BMW.'

'You don't worry about the expense, do you?' Tweed chaffed him.

'This is America.' Newman reminded him. 'Image is everything.'

"Then I think we all should get some sleep.' Tweed announced, heading for the door. Tomorrow we move into enemy territory.'

19

During the night Alvarez had summoned certain expert technicians. With Newman's earlier consent they had worked all night on the Mercedes and the BMW in a sealed-off underground garage. By midmorning the two cars and their occupants were close to Monterey.

Earlier, as they drove along the coast road south from San Francisco, Tweed realized he had forgotten how scenic the journey was. To their right, on a brilliantly sunny morning, a calm Pacific sparkled like mercury, reflecting the sunlight. They passed deserted beaches and small capes.

To their left rose a shallow slope with only here and there a wooden cabin which was someone's home. Apart from these occasional buildings there were no signs of habitation. In a lay-by Newman demonstrated the technical work added to the Merc, at Alvarez's suggestion.

Tweed stood with Paula while Newman pressed buttons in a neat black box attached to the dashboard. Two large aerials emerged from the roof, then splayed out at their summits a neat spider's web of wires. He pressed another button and a small cylinder appeared from a squat box on the roof. They had just got back in the car when a raucous horn began to shriek, on-off-on-off. It resembled a police car siren. Paula clapped her hands to her ears and Newman switched it off.

'What's all that about?' asked Tweed.

'Yes, what's going on?' Paula called out from the back seat.

She sat next to Marler, who had assembled his Armal-ite and laid it on the floor with the sniperscope attached.

They were driving along the freeway again as Newman explained.

'See the microphone hidden under the dashboard? With that I can communicate not only with Alvarez - but the same message goes straight through to Cord Dillon at Langley. It's one of the most powerful transmitters in the world - through that aerial which I withdrew after elevating it. The siren is psychological, liable to attract any police car within miles. Incidentally, any request for help I send is sent out over another waveband - the one used by police cars.'

'Alvarez is taking no chances.' Tweed observed. 'I hadn't noticed any of this equipment on the roof.'

'You weren't supposed to.'

'I see Butler and Nield are keeping close behind us.' remarked Tweed after a glance in the wing mirror.

'That's the idea. And now we are approaching a large •town.'

'It's Monterey. I remember the route to Junipero in Carmel. Follow my directions from now on...'

Newman, knowing Tweed had a photographic memory for locations, did exactly as he was told. They passed through long stretches of pine forest, bypassing most of Monterey, then entered Carmel. Tweed gave another instruction.

'Carmel, like so many American towns, is built on the grid system.' he remarked. 'Avenues run down to the sea, streets cross them at right angles. We're on Junipero. Park where you can.'

He took out Alvarez's map to check further. Getting out of the car, he was followed by Paula who asked if she could come with him to the Standish apartment.

'Yes. You might be useful. A woman can tell a lot about another woman's living quarters.'

"This is an interesting town.' she said. 'What a lot of art and curio shops.'

"The place lives off them.'

Tweed soon found the entrance to the small courtyard where Linda Standish had lived. It was hidden away, a narrow entrance leading to a wider cobbled yard surrounded by two-storey buildings. Built mostly of wood, they looked old and each one was in a different architectural style. Paula detected Spanish influence in the railed balconies on the first floors. Hanging baskets of flowers were everywhere.

They were early but a stocky man in a pale lightweight suit came forward to meet them. He had a cleanshaven face, his hair was trimmed short and he looked to be in his thirties. He had a stern expression.

'Who are you?' he demanded.

'I might ask you the same question,' Tweed responded sharply.

'Detective Jeff Anderson.'

'Hello, I'm Tweed. Do you mind if my assistant, Paula, comes with me to the Standish apartment?'

'Not at all.' Anderson cast an admiring glance at Paula without a trace of forwardness. 'Can I see some identification?' he asked.

Tweed produced his passport. Anderson examined it carefully, then returned it. His manner mellowed.

'Welcome to Carmel. Although this is not a pleasant introduction.'

'I've been here before. Can we see Linda Standish's apartment?'

"This way...'

Anderson led them across to a corner of the courtyard. He was climbing a staircase with wrought-iron railings when Paula called up to him.

'Excuse me. But is this courtyard well illuminated at night?'

'No. Just by those lanterns you see.'

They had ducked under a tape barring off the staircase and a uniformed policeman stood at the entrance to an alley where he could watch. His gun butt protruded from a leather holster. Anderson opened the studded wooden door with a key, led them inside.

The apartment consisted of one large room with a desk and a chair. There were bloodstains on the chair and on the floor behind it. Anderson pointed to the chair, to papers scattered across the table, also showing signs of dried bloodstains.

'We reckon she was working on her IRS returns when she was garrotted from behind.'

'Was the door open?' asked Tweed.

'Yes it was.'

'And you think she was sitting in the chair when the murder took place?'

'She sure was.'

'Then that suggests she knew her killer. Otherwise she'd have stood up if a stranger had entered. She was a private investigator - had she a weapon?'

'Yes. A Colt, loaded, in that drawer to her right.'

'Again it suggests someone she knew, someone she had no reason to fear when the visitor entered. Look at the distance from the door to her desk. And I noticed the door has a loud squeak when you opened it. She had plenty of time to get the gun out - unless she knew her killer and had no reason to fear him.'

'Or her?' Paula suggested.

Anderson stared at Tweed. He rocked backwards and forwards on his heels.

'Who are you? They said you were insurance. You talk like a policeman - the shrewd questions you asked.'

'He was once the youngest superintendent in Homicide at Scotland Yard,' Paula said quietly.

"That explains it. Now, to get back to business. As you see, all the drawers have been pulled out and emptied on the floor. Except for the drawer with the gun. I guess that he decided to leave that alone.'

'Or she did.' Paula insisted.

'We're talking about a serial killer called The Accountant,' Anderson said bluntly.

'I know we are,' Paula snapped back. 'And in Europe there have been several cases of professional women assassins operating successfully. You think America is some special place?'

'I suppose you could be right,' Anderson said doubtfully.

"This place is a wreck,' Tweed observed. 'Obviously the killer was searching frantically for something, maybe for some clue which pointed in his - or her - direction.'

'We thought that. Every piece of paper has been examined. I guess he found what he was looking for.'

'I wonder,' Paula said.

She looked round carefully. Where would a woman hide something she didn't want found? she was thinking. Where would I have hidden it? There was something in her manner which made Anderson keep quiet as he watched her. She stood in the same spot, slowly gazing at every item of furniture.

Then she walked forward to a very tall filing cabinet where the drawers had been burst open. Going up on tiptoe, she felt with her hands along the dusty top of the cabinet. Her fingers contacted a folder. She eased it forward, lifted it down, opened it. There was a sheet of paper inside with names listed in neat handwriting. It was headed Suspects.