The Main Chance (2 page)

`Do that.'

They were now moving at forty. Tweed suddenly dropped to thirty again. Then down to twenty-five. He braked suddenly. Paula saw the giant digger just ahead, almost above them, its fearsome caterpillars grinding down through a gap in the hedge. It was making the devil of a noise as it crashed down onto the road.

For a second the massive left-hand caterpillar track, revolving like a terrible mincing machine, filled the windscreen. It passed within inches of their front bumper. Paula was terrified. Tweed sat very still.

The digger's momentum carried it forward across the road as it headed into a gap in the hedge on the other side of the road, out of control. Paula had a glimpse of the driver, wearing a cloth cap and workman's clothes. Panicking, he was desperately trying to find the brake lever, wobbling about inside the cab. Beyond the gap was a smooth slope on the right-hand side, just wide enough for the digger to ascend it to safety.

But to the left of the smooth slope half the gap fell sheer into a rocky gorge. Still panicking, the driver lost control. As the machine mounted the slope the left- hand caterpillar slid over the edge. The whole machine toppled over sideways, plunging into the gorge at speed. Paula had a grisly glimpse of the cab with its driver falling upside down and heard the hideous sound of crushing metal.

The driver had managed to jerk open a window, his head and shoulders projecting. The immense weight of the machine thundered down onto his skull, crushing it to less than half its normal size. Paula let out her breath. Tweed gazed at the carnage for only a brief moment, then drove on down the lane.

`Shouldn't we check on him?' whispered Paula.

`No point. Dead as a dodo. Which was how we were supposed to end up.'

`Maybe we should report it to the police,' she suggested.

`We should
not
! We were supposed to end up inside this car, our bodies flattened like pancakes. Getting involved with the police would cause hours of delay, explanation we don't want to give.'

`Why?' she asked, her voice stronger.

`Obviously someone doesn't want us to reach Hengistbury Manor. It was well planned by a good organizer.'

Paula sensed Tweed didn't wish to pursue this notion. Tactfully she changed the subject.

'Hengistbury is a strange name.'

`Comes from hundreds of years ago. The Jutes — from Jutland — had landed on the Isle of Thanet. Under the command of Hengist and Horsa. They destroyed the Picts who were swarming south to kill the locals. They moved off Thanet and took over large sections of fertile land. It was the beginning of the establishment of the English race. Whoever founded the manor had a sense of history.'

They had reached the top of another hill. Tweed paused. Below the landscape changed dramatically. Instead of rolling open fields they were looking down on an endless sweep of dark green trees as far as the eye could see. Huge tall firs were so close together they looked like an immense cushion, branches often intermingling. Paula almost gasped.

`This must be The Forest, marked on my map. Seems to go on forever.'

`And somewhere inside there is the mansion.' `Well, I've guided you on the right track.'

As they reached the bottom of the hill she indicated an ancient signpost pointing the way they were headed.
Hengistbury
. The sun, still blazing down, vanished. They were now driving through a dark tunnel, hemmed in overhead and on both sides by stands of firs with massive trunks. Tweed had put on his headlights full beam. Soon a massive ten-foot-high stone wall appeared on their left, continued for a long distance. It was topped by rolls of barbed wire.

`Have we reached Mrs Bella Main's property?' Paula wondered.

`I think so. She must have scores of acres...'

He had just spoken when his headlights illuminated closed wrought-iron gates breaking into the sky-high wall. Tweed glanced in his rear-view mirror, slowed, stopped. Paula glanced back, frowned.

`That car has been following us for a while. I saw it earlier.'

`It's Harry. He's pulled up behind us. Here he comes.'

This had happened before when either Tweed or Paula drove off on their own or together. A member of his dedicated staff would quietly follow them. Prior to the digger incident there had been other attempts in previous cases to kill Tweed. Tweed lowered his window as the Cockney arrived on foot.

`Lost you for a short while on the motorway,' Harry remarked. 'Got stuck in a traffic jam. Then caught on you'd taken the side road south-west. I—'

`Harry,' Tweed ordered, 'don't be seen. Creep up to those gates, see if there's a drive leading straight to the manor. Also check that track on the right opposite the gates. I'll want you to park your car out of sight but so you can see the manor if possible.'

Harry was off at a run, keeping close to the wall. He dropped to his knees, crawled a few paces, peered. He jerked his head to the right to glance at the track. Then he was racing back to the cars.

`What are you up to now?' Paula wondered.

`Wait.' Tweed turned to Harry, back at his window. The Cockney was grinning.

`Piece of cake. Drive runs straight to Buckingham Palace. I'll take the car into the undergrowth here, come round onto that track from behind. What's the game?'

`I'm hoping I'll be near a window so I can signal you by flashing my lighter. That is if anyone leaves the manor by car while we're inside. If so, follow them discreetly.'

`I'm always discreet. Have fun... Oh, there's a speaker-phone in the nearest pillar. Let's hope they think you're respectable enough to let in!'

Tweed was on the move as Harry's car disappeared into a wilderness of undergrowth. Paula shivered. With the canopy of firs overhead it was chilly. Arriving opposite the tall gates, Tweed swung the car round ready for entrance.

Wow!' exclaimed Paula. 'I see why he said Buckingham Palace.'

A wide straight drive of small pebbles led straight across parkland for a couple of hundred yards to the manor. The HQ of the Main Chance Bank was an ancient and enormous house obviously built in Elizabethan times. Twirly chimneys reared up everywhere from the roof. At each end of the immense span of the manor projected small extensions, the roofs again supporting more palisades of corkscrew-shaped chimneys. Smoke coiled up from many of them into the windless sky.

Tweed had opened his door to get out and approach the speaker-phone when a man's cut-glass voice exploded from the instrument.

`Mr Tweed, Miss Grey, welcome to Hengistbury.'

The gates were already swinging open inwards. Slowly Tweed drove forward. In his rear-view mirror he saw them already closing behind him.

`Must be the finest example of Elizabethan architecture in England,' he commented.

`Fabulous,' Paula almost gasped. 'And so is the park.'

On either side of the drive stretched trim green lawn. On their left a tall fountain jetted high into the air, forming the letter 'H'. To their right the lawn was narrower, and beyond it The Forest's giant firs closed in as though ready to swallow up the park. Paula found them sinister.

`Nothing disturbing, I'm sure,' Tweed remarked. `Don't be too sure,' Paula responded in a quiet voice.

2

Tweed parked near the base of a wide flight of marble steps leading up to a spacious terrace which ran the full length of the mansion. Other cars were parked nearby, including a large black stretch limousine. A uniformed chauffeur with a sneering expression stood by it and ignored the new arrivals.

Arriving on the terrace with Paula, Tweed noted all the small windows had leaded lights. At the top of the staircase was the entrance, a pair of large heavy mahogany doors. The left-hand door opened, and a tall good-looking man in his thirties walked out briskly to greet them. He wore a smart black suit, the trousers sharply creased, the jacket almost reaching his knees and a stiff, peaked collar. The uniform of a servant.

`Mr Tweed and Miss Grey, you are most welcome guests. I will lead the way. You could say I was the butler.'

The voice was the same cut-glass accent which had called to them through the speaker-phone.

`Isn't he sure of his status?' Paula whispered humorously as they followed the erect figure inside.

`Shh,' Tweed reprimanded her as they entered a vast square hall with a woodblock floor. In three walls he could just make out closed mahogany doors. The butler led them to a door in the right-hand wall, paused, his hand on the door handle.

`I am Snape, sir. You are most punctual. Mrs Bella Main sends her apologies. She will not be long but one of her important clients arrived without an appointment.' His tone was disapproving. 'She will send him packing very shortly. This is the library.'

They entered another large room, the walls lined with bookcases, the shelves neatly stacked with leather-bound volumes. In an arch-shaped opening a log fire blazed and Paula welcomed the warmth: she was already finding the mansion claustrophobic. The only illumination came from the fire. Hardly any light from outside penetrated the room through the small windows.

A tall man, probably in his late forties, hurried across to meet them. He wore an expensive blue pinstriped suit; his shirt was pristine white, his tie Chanel. White cuffs decorated with gold links protruded from his sleeves. He was smiling and there was something dominant in his jutting jaw.

`I am Marshal Main, managing director of this outfit. You are the most interesting visitors we've had in a long time.'

`Why?' asked Tweed as Main shook hands with both of them.

`What can we offer you in the way of refreshment? I think just about anything is available.'

`Coffee would be pleasant,' Tweed replied.

`Me too, please', added Paula.

`How do you like it, sir?' enquired Snape, standing behind them as erect as a sentry.

`Black as sin. So does Paula.'

`Well —' Main burst out laughing — 'you're in the right place. Plenty of sin round here. Come and sit down.' He took Paula's arm, squeezed it, staring at her. She didn't like it.

As Snape left, closing the door silently, Main escorted them to an antique table circled with four armchairs near the fire. Paula was watching a woman further down the library. She was standing behind a hard-backed chair, listening quietly.

She was in her late thirties, Paula estimated, and extremely attractive. Slim, she had long beautifully coiffeured black hair reaching her shoulders. Her eyebrows were thick and below them her features were perfectly sculpted. Her eyes were large, her nose was straight and just long enough above a firm mouth and determined chin. She smiled at Paula, who immediately smiled back.

Main, who seemed to miss nothing, jumped up swiftly. All his movements were agilely quick.

`Oh, my God! I'm forgetting my manners. Lavinia, do come and join us.' He slid a spare armchair in between Tweed's and Paula's. "This is Lavinia, my daughter. She's my heart's desire.'

Tweed thought the words odd as Lavinia settled herself next to him. She smiled, gazed at her father.

`Just so long as you don't try and carry that too far.'

`Why?' Tweed again asked Main.

`What?' he replied, puzzled

`Mr Tweed is referring to your remark that we have the most interesting visitors we've had in a long time. Probably he's wondering if you say that to everyone who comes here,' she chaffed him in her appealing soft voice.

`Stuff and nonsense!' he barked, briefly annoyed. Turning to Tweed he exuded amiability again. 'Because you are Deputy Director of the SIS — and you've brought with you the lady you place most trust in. Also I can tell already you both have exceptional intellects and brainpower.'

`Bella always does her homework before she agrees to meet here,' Lavinia said.

`She always tries to counter me,' Main said irritably. `I just like accuracy,' Lavinia told him.

`Which is why,' Main told them, 'she is the chief accountant.

Snape appeared with a silver tray with the coffee. Placing small mats in front of Tweed and Paula, he poured from a large silver coffee pot. The china was Royal Doulton. Snape looked at Lavinia.

`Nothing for me,' she told him.

Snape had just left silently when the room exploded. The door was flung open, banging back against the panelled wall. A young woman flew into the library. Late twenties, Paula estimated. Long red hair, a pretty face with sensuous lips and staring green eyes. Lavinia leaned close to Paula, whispered.