The Savage Gorge

The Savage Gorge
is, sadly, Colin Forbes' last novel.
He delivered the completed manuscript to his
publishers at the end of July and three weeks later, on
23rd August 2006, he died. Simon & Schuster are
honoured to publish
The Savage Gorge
in memory of Colin and his long, distinguished career as the author
of 33 internationally bestselling thrillers.

THE SAVAGE GORGE

COLIN FORBES

Prologue

It started with the terrified scream of a frightened girl.

Tweed, ace detective at the Yard before he-
accepted the post of Deputy Chief of the SIS,
frowned as he sat behind his desk in his spacious
first-floor office. He had just finished reading his
instructions to an agent in Europe. The scream had broken his concentration.

'London gets rowdier day by day,' he grumbled.

The only two other occupants of the room were
Monica, absorbed by her typing at her desk behind the closed door, and Tweed's second-in-command,
Paula Grey, who had stood up from her desk to peer down through an open window into Park Crescent. It
was a glorious May day. The sun shone out of a duck-
egg-blue sky.

Paula, in her thirties, had thick glossy hair falling
almost to her shoulders. Her features were well-
shaped: a high forehead, neat eyebrows above alert
blue-grey eyes, a strong nose with a firm mouth and
determined chin.

The girl who had screamed was hurrying towards
Their entrance. Frequently she glanced back over her
shoulder. No one else about. It was that brief period
when commuters had arrived at work and the shop
pers were not yet out and about.

'I think she's coming here,' Paula reported.

'Who is? ' growled Tweed.

'The girl who screamed.
⁵

'Well, we can do without her.'

The phone rang. Monica, in late middle-age, hair
tied in a bun, Tweed's loyal secretary for many years, also acted as switchboard operator. She picked up the
phone, listened, stared at Tweed.

'George
'
she said
_}
referring to the ex-army guard in
the hall,
'
says a Miss Usa Clancy needs to see you
urgently . . .'

'Well
_,
' Tweed said decisively, 'I don't want to see
her. So get George to send her on her way.
'

Monica, looking puzzled, resumed her conversa
tion, which seemed to stretch out. Paula walked across
to her. With a thankful expression Monica handed her
the phone. Paula's conversation was brief. Cupping her hand over the phone, she stared at Tweed.

'You
will
see her. She was recommended to contact
you by her friend Crystal Main, chief accountant of the Main Chance Bank.'

'Then I haven't much choice, have I? Wheel her up. '

Swiftly he packed the ten red folders answering queries from ten agents in Europe into a large metal
box, locked it, put his key in a bottom drawer, which
he also locked. He called across to Monica.

'Since the rest of our team is out checking different
areas in London, call Communications to send two
guards to collect this,
⁵
Communications was in a
separate house further along the Crescent; its sophis
ticated aerials were disguised as TV masts. 'When
they arrive,
'
Tweed added, 'tell them everything is for
immediate transmission after coding.'

Paula returned to her distant corner desk, where
she could get a good view of the unwanted visitor. She
checked on Tweed. She saw a well-built man of
medium height, middle-aged but these days he was
looking younger. He had neatly brushed thick dark
hair
₃
an unlined forehead, large blue eyes which
missed nothing, a long nose above a wide strong
mouth and a firm jaw. He could change his expression
from aggression to amiability in a split second.
Despite his earlier mood he now looked relaxed.

The door opened after a discreet tap. George ush
ered in an attractive blonde in her late thirties.
Expensively dressed, she wore a short white pleated skirt, a stylish leather jacket, a tasteful cravat round her long neck.

'
Miss Lisa Clancy.' George introduced her and
withdrew.

'Welcome,
'
Tweed stood up. The visitor hastily

removed a silk glove to grasp his outstretched hand
gently, 'Do sit down.
'
Tweed urged, indicating the
carver chair in front of his desk. 'May I ask your
name?' he enquired, settling back in his chair. George
had only mumbled it.

'I am
...
Lisa . . . Clancy. Miss.
'

She kept swallowing. Although she had a soft pleas
ant voice, she appeared to have difficulty in speaking.
She crossed her legs, then recrossed them. Her small shapely hands kept twisting her glove. Her large blue eyes flickered round the office.

A bundle of nerves, thought Paula, who was study
ing her discreetly.

Monica stood up, went to her side, smiling. 'Would you like a cup of coffee?'

Thank you. If
...
it's not. . . too much bother.'

'No bother at all.
'
Monica assured her cheerfully,
'Milk? Do you take sugar?'

'Just black
...
It is
...
so kind of you.'

'Back in a minute.
'
Monica said with another smile
and left the room.

Miss Clancy began to tremble. She clasped both hands tightly over the glove. Her shoulders began
shaking. Pursing her lips tightly, she sat up very
straight, pressed her back against the chair
_s
uncrossed
her legs and sat with her knees close together. An
atmosphere of fear began to emanate from their visitor.

Paula was waiting for Tweed to cut the interview
short, to get her out of the building. Women all over
London were complaining of being stalked. A minority

were disappointed when no man took any notice of
them. Now the sensation of fear percolating through
their office changed Tweed's approach.

I need a few facts.
'
he suggested pleasantly. 'Were
you stalked when you came here?'

'Yes, I was.
'

No, you weren't,
Paula said to herself, I'd have seen
anyone when I watched you coming round the
Crescent, but she changed her mind as Lisa Clancy
explained.

'He - or she - disappeared into the shrubbery on
the other side of the main road. They were watching
me through binoculars -1 saw the sunlight flashing off
the lenses. I think they checked your name plate on
the wall to see where I was going. The General and Cumbria Assurance Company.'

She had quoted the cover name for the SIS.
Typically, her friend Crystal Main had omitted to mention the SIS.

'He or she? They?' Tweed said immediately. 'Do
you mean there are two of them stalking you? One
man
_,
one woman?
'

Lisa was thanking Monica
₃
who had arrived with a
steaming cup of black coffee. She took a sip, then
replied, 'Sometimes it's a hunchback with long greasy
hair carrying a big executive case. Then he disappears
into an alley. A few minutes later it's a woman wearing a long black dress with a veil covering her face.
'

'
I see,
'
said Tweed, who didn't. 'How long has this
been going on?'

'Five days. This is the fifth day.'

'Have you any enemies? Say a boyfriend you've
dropped and who's furious with you?'

In the last few moments, Paula noticed Lisa
appeared to have gained control over herself, was
speaking normally without choking out the words.
That changed.

'
Do you live and work in London?
'
Tweed asked her
suddenly.

'Yes. I'm training to be
...
an accountant. .. with
Rumble, Crowther and Nicholas. Their offices
...
are
only a short walk from where I'm renting a nice
house. I'm quite well off. In a street leading off
Bexford Street
...
a side street with another . . . side
street. I feel so guilty.'

'Guilty? About what?'

'Taking up
...
so much of your time. Could you
escort me home? I couldn't stand ,., being ,. . stalked
again. I know I shouldn't ask you to do this for me.'

'Yes, of course we'll see you safely back. Ready
now?
'

It was her emphasis on the word 'guilty' which
alerted Tweed as it had Paula. Guilty of what? The
reason Lisa had given was not convincing. Paula
checked her Browning .32 automatic which was
tucked inside a holster strapped to her lower left leg and was escorting Lisa down the stairs with Tweed
behind her when Harry Butler, the toughest and
cleverest member of Tweed's team, came into the
office. Tweed called down to the two women.