No Mercy (11 page)

'We must concentrate on a double murder case,' Tweed
told her abruptly, anxious to get her mind on something else.

'It is possible,' she insisted, 'that someone who could do that to a calf could murder people and strip off flesh from
their bodies.'

Tweed paused. 'Stop it, Paula. I've had enough of the subject. So have you. How did you sleep? Any more
nightmares?'

'I slept like a babe.' The mist had dispersed and they had
paused where the police had ringed the fatal areas with their
tape. 'I can't see how Michael passed by this without seeing
it.'

'I can,' he snapped. 'I saw his eyes when he was coming
back. The same blank stare, the same gaze straight ahead.
Now we'll get back to the car and head for London. If that's all right by you.'

They resumed their walk. Paula realized she had irritated
Tweed, a rare event in their lives. She focused her mind to try to think of a less controversial subject. Their car was
parked where they had left it outside the pub. She kept quiet
until they were well past Exeter, then glanced at Tweed,
whose expression was placid.

'I gather you were quite impressed with the glamorous
Lucinda. She's very intelligent.'

'It's not her glamour I'm interested in. But she could be
the key to my learning a lot more about the Voles family and
their servants.' Lord, she thought, I've messed up again. But
then he went on, 'I'm at the stage of nosing out every bit of
information I can, hoping I hit on something significant.'

'As an opening gambit,' she suggested, 'you could call in
at the Gantia plant where she works. We pass it on our way
back to town. And make your dinner date with her at the
same time,' she added
tactfully.

'Actually, I was thinking of that.'

He had just spoken when they saw ahead a juggernaut parked on their side of the road. A red triangle in the road
warned that the vehicle was disabled. Tweed stopped,
waiting to ease his way safely round the huge vehicle.

A sound of breaking glass. In the window alongside
Tweed was a small hole.

'A bullet,' said Tweed quickly.

He eased his way round the stationary juggernaut, saw the road was clear, rammed his foot down. He kept up the speed
for some distance, slowed, then pulled in close to the cover
of a wayside cafe, sat back.

'You're all right?' he asked.

'Not a scratch. You OK, I hope.'

'Yes.'

'That same light aircraft which followed us down to
Dartmoor reappeared before we bypassed Exeter.'

'I know. What makes you think it's the same aircraft?'

'It has a peculiar
blue flash on its tail.'

'Then I agree. It was the same pilot. We were stationary
when the bullet hit. I suspect the gunman aimed to miss, a
warning shot. Someone doesn't want us investigating those
two murders. The question is, who?'

10

Inside a little-used phone box down a side street in
Hammersmith, London, Charmian checked the list of
phone numbers he had been supplied with by his mysterious employer.

Charmian, French, was the top assassin in Europe. His
unknown employer, M, had located him by making discreet
enquiries on the exclusive grapevine in Soho. The first half
of his large fee had been transmitted to his secret bank account in Zurich. He checked his watch. All calls to M
were timed.

He put his pilot's helmet, concealed in a carrier bag, on
the floor. He checked his watch again, dialled the number. At the other end, wherever that might be, the receiver was
lifted immediately.

'Is that M?' he enquired in his near-perfect English.

'M for mosque.'

The -agreed code, which had been suggested to him, confirmed he was speaking to his unknown employer. He
took a deep breath. The news he had to report was not good.

'Just got back,' he reported. 'Landed at City Airport.'

'Continue with your story.'

Charmian could never tell whether the strange voice was
that of a man or a woman. Must be speaking through a
handkerchief.

'I hijacked the juggernaut as planned. Flagged it down,
then used chloroform as you suggested, concealed the driver
inside a hedge by the side of A303. Took over vehicle, parked
it at the selected point on the road. All right so far.'

'I do not like the sound of this.'

'Meantime,' Charmian continued in a rush, 'I returned to
the plane, which I'd left on a nearby airfield. I spotted Tweed and his woman on their way back from Abbey Grange, close
to the ambush point. Am I speaking clear?'

'Just go on,' M ordered.

'Tweed's car arrives at juggernaut roadblock. It stops, as
we knew it would. I fired once. Missed target by millimetres.
Tweed drives on very fast.'

'You botched the job.'

Botched? Charmian did not know the word. But he could
guess its meaning. He decided it was best to say nothing.

'You will kill Tweed as quickly as possible. Only then,'
warned M, 'will the balance of the fee be transmitted.'

The connection was broken. Charmian swore foully to himself in choice French. M had not sounded pleased. He
had no way of knowing M was now worried. So early in the investigation Tweed was getting too warm. The reference to
Abbey Grange proved that. Dangerously too close.

11

Tweed had decided it would be wise to linger at the wayside
cafe. Inside, the well-furnished establishment was empty of
other customers. He chose a table at the rear so they sat with
their backs to the wall.

A spotlessly clad waitress took their order when Paula
pointed to a confection oozing cream inside a refrigerated container on the counter. Not normally her choice, but she
needed sugar. They both said they'd like black coffee.

'We'll wait here awhile,' Tweed explained after a few minutes. 'Just in case whoever is responsible organized a
back-up ambush for us nearer London. They'll think we've turned off to Guildford or somewhere else.' He paused to taste the coffee. 'This is very good.'

'So is this,' said Paula, who had sampled her cake. 'The
cream's very fresh. Where are we now with this horrific case?
It's good to get away from Dartmoor. At Abbey Grange I
wondered where Drago Volkanian was.'

'One of the things I hope to discover from Lucinda.
You've had a rough ride, so take your time.'

Eventually they left the cafe and the sun came out,
casting a cheerful light over fields where sheep grazed. Arriving at the giant Gantia food plant, they found that the
high iron gates were closed. Tweed got out to use the
intercom. When he came back he was smiling as the gates
swung inward.

'Guess what,' he said as they drove inside. 'When I gave
my name the guard said Miss Voles had warned him I might
be coming.'

'Perceptive lady.'

Paula was gazing at the Hampton Court-like gardens in
front of the artistically shaped building. Evergreen shrubs,
some trimmed into birdshapes, others perfect spheres, lined the drive. Volkanian was obviously a perfectionist when it
came to presentation.

After parking their car, they climbed white stone steps to
the main entrance. The door opened before they reached it
and a smart uniformed guard greeted them, after removing his peaked cap.

'Welcome to Gantia. Miss Voles is expected back any
moment. Oh, here she comes.'

They heard the approaching roar of a high-powered car. At speed, a red Porsche appeared. Brakes were jammed on
as the golden-headed driver swung her car round through
the still-open gates. The guard, a man in his late fifties,
chuckled.

'She does step on it. She seems to have an instinct for all
the speed traps. She'll be here the moment she's parked in
the garage.'

An automatic door had swung upwards, the Porsche slid inside, the door slowly closed down. Tweed decided there had to be another exit leading directly into the building. As
the guard led them into a large hall decorated with expensive
vases full of flowers, Lucinda appeared, smiling warmly,
hugging Tweed, then Paula.

'I think you've broken a record, Miss Voles,' the guard
said.

'Come a long way?' Paula asked.

'Never let on whom I've been to meet. Security,' Lucinda
replied with another smile.

'I have to check you before you enter,' the guard said as he
pressed a button.

'It's procedure,' Lucinda explained.

You look terrific, Paula was thinking. Lucinda was clad in a leather jacket, which was tight round her figure, and a pair
of leather trousers. At her throat she wore a scarf Paula
thought was Chanel. As the guard came to pat Tweed down
he produced the Walther from his holster to hand over.

'Let him keep that, Ken,' Lucinda told him. 'This
gentleman is higher security than I'll ever be.'

A uniformed woman guard appeared. In response to Ken's
pressing the button, Paula assumed. She produced from her
shoulder bag her Browning; again Lucinda said she could keep the weapon. The guards were backing away when
Lucinda spoke abruptly, her tone hard, her expression grim.

'Ken! Haven't I told you before that everyone must be
checked before they enter the building? Including myself. I
could have gone mad and be smuggling in a bomb.'

The woman guard, looking appalled, went over to
Lucinda and patted her down carefully. Ken looked equally
appalled that he had fallen down on the job. Lucinda fired
one more verbal shot before she led Tweed and Paula
towards an elevator.

'Don't ever slip up again. Now, incident closed.'

Paula hesitated as Tweed followed Lucinda inside the
elevator. Then she spoke.

'Miss Voles . . .'

'Lucinda, please.' She smiled.

'Is there somewhere I can wait down here? I think Mr
Tweed wants to talk to you very confidentially.'

'All right. I wouldn't have minded but that's considerate
of you. Ken can show you to our staff restaurant. Have a full
meal by all means. It will be on the house.'