By Stealth (5 page)

`Time for you to get round to the Brigadier's. If he's not in try Willie Fanshawe. He lives just beyond the Brig.'s place,
Leopard's Leap
. Willie's house is
The Last Haven
. Another old China hand.' He paused again, glanced to where Paula was getting into the car. He's trying to make up his mind about something, Tweed thought. Andover whispered the words.

`No ransom at all has been demanded...'

He turned away before Tweed could speak, walked swiftly back to the house. His head drooped, his shoulders were quivering. Tweed heard the slam of the front door closing and then he climbed in behind the wheel. Paula was waiting in the front passenger seat.

Did you see that?' she asked. The poor devil was crying on his way back to the house. A strong man like that. He must be going through hell. Shouldn't we inform the police?'

`Not yet. It's obvious Irene is the victim of some hideous kidnap plot. Andover's last words to me were "No ransom at all has been demanded." I find that sinister. Plus the macabre business of her amputated arm being sent to him.'

He started the engine, anxious to get clear before Andover emerged to drive to see Colonel Stanstead. At the exit, he paused. To his right Newman appeared on the far side, waved to show his location, where he had hidden his Merc. Tweed drove right, turned off the road down what was little more than a wide path. Newman's car was parked out of sight from the road behind a copse of evergreens. He climbed into the back of the Escort as Tweed switched off the engine.

`This file isn't safe,' Tweed commented.

He extracted it from under his sports jacket. Paula said she'd keep it in her executive case. Tweed handed it to her and she slipped the envelope inside, locked the slim case.

`Don't let that out of your hands,' Tweed warned. `As if I would,' she chided him.

`And, Bob,' Tweed continued, 'we expect Andover to drive away soon to visit Stanstead, the Chief Constable. Keep your ear open for the sound of his car, then follow him. Stanstead has a house somewhere outside Brockenhurst.'

`You want me to make sure that's where he goes?' Newman checked.

`Partly. I don't like this set-up one little bit. Your other task is to make sure he doesn't know he's being followed, but mainly to see if anyone else
follows
him.'

He went on to give Newman a brief digest of their visit to
Prevent
, including Paula's macabre discovery inside the freezer, his own discovery of the bugs, and their encounter with Andover.

`A severed right arm,' Newman repeated slowly. `And you think it was Irene's?'

`No doubt about it,' Tweed said tersely. 'Andover mentioned the emerald ring he'd given her only months ago. What worries me is his comment that no ransom at all has been demanded. The kidnappers have something quite fiendish in mind.'

`So shouldn't the police be informed?' Newman pressed, echoing Paula's earlier suggestion. 'Regardless of the fact that for some crazy reason he doesn't want to let them know.'

`Definitely not. I gave him my unqualified word. We've no idea what is going on. I may know more when I've read that file he handed me. Is that the sound of a car coming?'

Newman was already climbing out of the car. He ran towards the road, looked round the end of the copse of trees, ran back. On his way to the Merc. he stopped briefly where Tweed had lowered his window.

`Rover just coming out of the drive. Andover is on his way. So am I...'

Tweed waited until Newman had driven off, tapping his fingers on the wheel, the only sign of how disturbed he was. Paula kept quiet for a few minutes, guessing Tweed was taking a decision, before she spoke.

`What now?'

`I think we should follow up Andover's suggestion and call in on Brigadier Maurice Burgoyne, another old China hand, as he put it.'

3

Tweed was turning the Escort into the drive of
Leopard's Leap
when he stopped. Further along the wide grass verge outside the property a large pile of bricks stood next to a concrete mixer.

`The Brigadier must be having some work done,' Paula observed.

Tweed drove on between the open wrought-iron gates and along another curving drive. But this surface was newly tarred. Like sentinels, ornamental shrubs lined the borders with here and there neatly trimmed topiary.

I smell money,' Paula remarked. 'But will the Brig. welcome strangers at this hour?'

`I'm not a stranger. I've met him several times over dinners in London. Just as I have met the neighbour further along this wilderness, Willie Fanshawe. They all belonged to a very exclusive institute and I was invited as a guest several times. Here we are..

They drove round another bend and suddenly in front of them loomed a magnificent Jacobean mansion. Unlike the gloom of
Prevent
, it was illuminated powerfully with a battery of ground searchlights aimed at the frontage. A burglar alarm attached to the wall showed up prominently.

'Burgoyne's security is an improvement on Andover's,' Tweed commented.

`And I smell even more money.'

The mansion was constructed of mellow stone and its tall characteristic chimneys reared up into the night. At one corner rose a turret with a witch's hat topping it. Despite the glow of lights Paula shivered. Something about the aura of the house worried her.

`Let's hope he's in,' Tweed said as he parked the car at the foot of a flight of stone steps leading up to the imposing entrance. 'There are lights inside.'

They walked up the steps to a large porch projecting well forward from the main edifice. As Tweed rang the bell Paula looked back. At the edge of the drive was a trim lawn with well-tended flowerbeds. A strong light came on over the outside of the porch, a blinding glare. The door opened after a moment and the glaring light was switched off. A tall slim figure stood silhouetted in the glow from lights beyond.

`Tweed! Of all people. What a welcome surprise. And you've brought me an attractive lady. It's a long time since I've seen such beautiful raven-black hair.'

The man's voice was soft but Paula sensed an inner will of great strength and character. Normally she found flattery insincere but now she felt rather pleased with the description of herself.

`This is my deputy, Paula Grey,' Tweed introduced 'So, Paula, now you meet Brigadier Maurice Burgoyne.' `Come in out of the cold,' Burgoyne responded. 'And the fog. Expect you could both do with a good drink. Walk straight ahead while I lock the door...'

Tweed walked with Paula across a large hall laid with a solid-oak block floor. It was well lit with wall-sconce lights and the room beyond was tastefully furnished as a spacious living room.

A blonde-haired woman in her thirties stood up from a couch and came forward as Burgoyne followed them into the room. He waved a slim hand.

`This is Lee Holmes, my companion,' Burgoyne announced. He introduced Paula and then Tweed. 'We are drinking champagne,' he went on. He took Paula's arm. `Fancy a glass to drive out the Arctic?'

`Arctic is the word,' the blonde woman agreed as she held Paula's hand. 'You feel frozen. Come and sit by the fire.'

Burgoyne helped her off with her coat, took Tweed's, disappeared into the hall, came back, and lifted a bottle from an ice-bucket. 'Visitors are so welcome in this back of the beyond. Especially at this time of the year...'

He was pouring champagne into a flute glass for Paula as he chatted, which gave her an opportunity to study him. Burgoyne had a long face like a fox, the nose strong, the chin forceful. His voice was commanding and his movements had a controlled feline grace. His thick hair was dark, well brushed, and beneath the nose was a long thin moustache.

Burgoyne wore gleaming polished riding boots with grey jodhpurs tucked inside the tops. His white polo-necked sweater was spotless. But it was the eyes which attracted her attention. Dark and alert under thick brows, they watched her closely as he served the drink. There was something almost hypnotic about his gaze.

`Thank you,' she said. 'I could just do with this.' She raised her glass. 'Cheers! Everyone.'

`Not for me,' Tweed said quickly. 'I'm driving.'

Paula had noticed a signal pass between Burgoyne and Lee Holmes when they had waited to see where to sit. A brief gesture towards Tweed, an almost imperceptible nod.

His 'companion' had reacted immediately. Smiling at Tweed, she patted the seat on the couch, and he sat beside her while Paula sank into an armchair, which enveloped her. As she began talking to Tweed, Paula looked her up and down discreetly.

Lee Holmes made her feel dowdy in the clothes she was wearing. A natural blonde, her mane draped over bare and perfectly shaped shoulders. She wore a purple formfitting dress which displayed to full advantage her excellent figure. You're a beauty, damn you, Paula thought. It was rare for her to feel such a catty reaction.

`Please call me Lee, Mr Tweed,' she was saying as she sat closer to him. She crossed her long legs, a manoeuvre which opened the long slit in her dress, exposing her left leg almost to her thigh. Clad in flesh-tinted tights, her shapely legs appeared to be bare. She took hold of Tweed's right hand.

`I like men with strong hands,' she confided.

Tweed squeezed her hand and was startled at the strength of her responding grip. He gently pulled his hand free.

`You are pretty strong yourself,' he observed. 'How do you pass the time out here?'

`A lot of riding. I can even out-race Maurice, although he doesn't like me advertising the fact,' she teased.

`Which isn't difficult for her,' Burgoyne retorted as he perched himself on the arm of Paula's chair. 'Her horse is carrying less weight.' He looked down at Paula. 'I hope you don't object to the proximity?'

`Why should I? You have a wonderful home here. Not what I'd expect to find in the New Forest.'

`Goes back into history, I gather. Mineral water for you, Tweed?'

`Maybe a little later. How did you manage to get hold of such an architectural gem?'

`I have Sir Gerald Andover to thank for that. When I was out in Hong Kong and getting ready to come home after umpteen years, we were having a drink in my favourite bar. Andover, Fanshawe — lives next door — and myself. I asked him if he heard of a likely property would he be so kind as to send details. Three months passed. Nothing. Fanshawe wanted a place, too. Then a sheaf of houses arrived from Andover — including this place. Snapped it up.'

`And lived happily ever after,' Lee interjected with a curious smile.

`Something like that.'

Tweed seized his opportunity. 'It was Andover who sent us round here. Poor chap looks as though he's had a nervous breakdown.' He waited for the reaction.

Paula glanced up at Burgoyne. The living-room was also lit by wall-sconce lights, casting a suffused glow. In the soft lighting Burgoyne's expression was saturnine. He appeared to be considering how to respond.

`Andover is a good friend — as I've just proved. But a bad neighbour. Keeps himself locked up inside that old horror of a pile. It was much better when Irene, his daughter, was around.'

`Maurice took a fancy to Irene,' Lee interjected. 'He means it was much better for Maurice when Irene was available.'

`Nonsense.' Burgoyne dismissed her observation without any sign of rancour. 'Then about three months ago Irene ups and offs to the Riviera with her French boy friend, Louis Renard. Can't say I took to the chap.'

`Maurice,' Lee intervened again, 'you only met him once.'

`Once was enough. A bit of a bounder. But some of you women seem to like the type.' He touched Paula on the shoulder. 'Excluding guests. You look as though you've got your head screwed on the right way.'

`When did Andover resign from the Institute and throw up all his directorships?' Tweed persisted.

`Come to think of it, about the same time. Yes, three months or so ago. Rather foolish. His daughter goes off for a fling — the way they do these days — and her father chucks in all his interests. Told him he was bats. Wouldn't listen, of course.'

`I see you brought the East back with you,' Paula said quickly, feeling Tweed had pressed the subject enough.

She looked round the room. Perched on an Oriental chest in the large curtained bay window at the back was a small Buddha with hooded eyes, which seemed to be watching her. The walls were decorated with Chinese paintings on silk scrolls. Behind an Oriental desk angled in a corner hung a large-scale map of Hong Kong. Burgoyne smiled before he replied.