He entered the last room to check, the kitchen. More cobwebs and again all the surfaces were covered with dust. No aroma of food being prepared, maybe for years. Then he stopped, frowned. Was it his imagination or was there a faint feeling of warmth?
He took off a glove, held his bare hand over the cooker. Nothing. So why had he briefly detected warmth? He swung the beam of his pencil torch round. Unlike the other rooms this floor was covered with plastic sheets instead of stone paving.
Logical, he thought, this being the kitchen. He swivelled the beam of his torch, saw a thick rug in the centre of the floor. He crouched down and felt the corner which was turned up. He frowned. It was sticky, as though covered with an adhesive.
He slowly peeled the rug to one side, exposing the floor beneath. On one side the plastic sheet didn't fit perfectly. There was a deep narrow slot. Carefully, he slid one hand down inside, felt a handle, resisted the impulse to lift. Very carefully he replaced the rug over the whole slab.
His expression was grim as he stood up. There was a cellar below. If opened and closed recently it explained why he had sensed warmth in the kitchen only. As he had examined the apparently uninhabited lodge there had been someone hiding below him. Maybe more than one person. It gave him a creepy feeling.
He walked quietly back to the front door. It was protected by a Keylock, the most complex on the market. On his way in he had used the advanced pick-lock supplied to him by Harry. He had opened it easily.
Now, standing in the long arched porch, he closed the door, which had well-oiled hinges. Harry's instrument locked it silently. He emerged slowly from the porch, Smith & Wesson by his side, listened.
Then he was careful to walk back towards the road down the centre of the drive just as he had come in, his feet again sinking into the carpet of pine needles. He was near the exit when his right foot felt something hard. He crouched down after a quick glance back at the lodge. Using his gloved hand, he swept aside a whole mass of pine needles and there it was.
A wide metal band which appeared to span the drive, a deep trench in the middle of the bar occupied by a thick cable. Whoever was inside the lodge had been warned of his coming by the weight of his foot on the signal cable. Probably a red light came on somewhere inside the lodge.
He took care to sweep back pine needles over his discovery. Then he started the long trudge through the icy night to the manor. He used the speaker-phone, Snape replied immediately, opened the gates.
Newman thanked him for waiting up so late, gave him a generous tip, toiled up the staircase which seemed longer than usual. He paused outside Tweed's apartment door, his hand raised to knock, then decided not to disturb him.
He walked on to his apartment. Once inside he forced himself to take a shower, climbed into pyjamas, flopped under the sheets. The moment his head hit the pillow he fell into a deep sleep. His bedside light remained on all night.
25
After breakfast the following morning Newman described his visit to Shooter's Lodge to Tweed. Marler, Harry and Paula were also present. When he had finished, Tweed's reaction surprised him.
`First, that was good work, outstandingly so, Bob. And the way you handled it was perfect. For the moment we don't go near the place. If we're driving past it no one even glances at it.'
`I don't understand,' Newman protested. We may have Calouste in the palms of our hands.'
`I do hope so. So we don't want him slipping away as he did at Heather Cottage. He'll have an escape route. I'm getting to know how Calouste thinks. He's moved in close to me after failing twice to kill me.'
`I think you're right,' said Paula.
They were assembled in the large downstairs library. Before permitting Newman to report, Tweed had checked every distant armchair to make sure neither Leo nor Crystal were hidden away, listening.
Several were getting up to leave when Tweed's mobile buzzed. He made a gesture indicating they should wait. It was Monica calling from Park Crescent. Tweed listened, said very little, thanked her for the call. Nothing in his expression indicated the call had been important.
`Gather round,' he ordered. 'I'll be speaking very quietly. Disturbing news: Monica has had a call from Philip Cardon on the Continent. Very short. I quote what he said. "Our friend has ordered the elite of his French servants to come over here urgently. They are probably already in England." End of message.'
`I don't get it,' said Harry.
`Philip is warning us Calouste has brought over here the elite of his French killers. I left a bit out. There are six or seven of them, Calouste doesn't do things by halves.'
`They'll come through The Forest to attack here,' Marler warned. 'Obvious line of approach. And unlike us they'll use their favourite weapons — knives. So I suggest the team goes into The Forest, scattered, and now.'
`I'll advise you,' Harry volunteered. 'I probably know the area better than any of you.'
`Wait a moment,' intervened Tweed. 'There's a problem. The bodies. Both the Home Office and the Foreign Office dumbos are playing diplomatic chess with Paris. The French are waiting for some excuse to smear us. Even though you'll be up against murderous thugs, Paris could yell about French citizens being massacred.'
`I have the answer,' Harry piped up. 'I found an ancient and deep stone quarry, its sides crumbling, on the far side of The Forest. Bodies. Need I say more?'
`No,' said Tweed. As his team trooped to the door he called out. 'Be careful — you'll be dealing with professionals.'
`I thought we were professionals,' Harry fired back at him as he left and closed the door.
`Everything is hotting up,' Tweed said to Paula when they were alone. 'The tempo is accelerating. But we have experienced this before.'
`I don't like the idea of our team lost in The Forest,' she said. `Except they won't be lost, under Harry's guidance.'
A few minutes later the door opened slowly and Leo's head peered round it sneakily. Behind him Crystal's head also appeared.
`Anyone else in here?' he whispered. 'Good. We have an important secret to tell you.'
Not another one, Paula thought. The Mrs Carlyle one was bad enough, but it was important.
With Tweed and Paula the two of them gathered round the table, Crystal looked excited, brushed her hair back off her face, while Leo looked determined.
`You heard our mother died in a car accident,' Leo began. 'I was eleven and Crystal was eight. Mother was driving home by herself using a route she knew well. Coming back from Midhurst she climbed a steep hill with Hook Corner at the top. It's high up, with a drop of a hundred feet on one side and a big warning notice. Hook Corner is a hairpin turn so she drove slowly, I'm sure, as she always did. Are you with me?'
`Yes,' Tweed said, hands perched under his chin, waiting for Crystal to interrupt, which she didn't.
`Coming round Hook Corner,' Leo continued, `there's a steep hill going down, so you brake. Mother's car went over the edge and ended up a hundred feet down, smashed to pulp. The police under Inspector Trafford—'
`Tetford?' enquired Tweed. 'The man still in charge over at Leaminster.'
`That's him. Tetford. Been here forever. Prior to Mother's so-called accident Tetford reported it as just yet another accident at a dangerous corner. It wasn't. The brake linings had been tampered with. When Mother pressed the brake it didn't work. It was murder.'
`My mother was murdered,' Crystal said. `Tetford messed it up.'
`How do you know the brake linings were tampered with?' Tweed demanded, leaning forward.
`Leo is a mechanic,' Crystal spoke up. 'Worked for a garage once and was so good they offered him a job. He can take any car to pieces and put it back together perfectly. He could demonstrate on your Audi'
`No thanks,' Tweed said firmly. 'When did you go down to examine the smashed-up car?'
`The day after his men had made a superficial check.'
`And did you report your findings to Telford?'
`I did.' Leo's face flushed. 'He told me I was only twelve years old — he even got my age wrong — and warned me not to go spreading silly stories or I'd find myself in serious trouble.'
`And have you told this to anyone else since?' `Only to Crystal and she's kept quiet.'
`Surely you mentioned it to Warner, your father?'
`I knew he didn't want to discuss it or talk about it to anyone. He's never referred to it since. I'm telling you now so you know everything that might be connected with your investigation.'
`Keep it that way. And I appreciate your telling me.'
They both got up and left the library together. Tweed looked at Paula who had a very serious expression.
`What do you make of that?'
`It could add a whole new dimension to the case. I believed Leo. I've seen him fiddling with his motorcycle in bits, then setting to work to put it together again.'
She stopped talking as the door opened and Marshal breezed into the room, his usual flamboyant self. He wore jodhpurs, tucked into gleaming leather riding boots, and a blazing yellow tunic. In his right hand he held a whip, which he slapped against his boots.
`Mornin', you two detectives. Time you solved the case.'
Tweed was not amused. He stared hard at Marshal before he spoke.
`It's not a flippant matter when your own mother has been brutally murdered. And we are closer to breaking the case than when we arrived. Were you thinking of going riding?'
`As a matter of fact I'm taking a trot through the woods. Lavinia often rides the course laid out beyond the tennis courts which has tricky jumps. She sails over them. I can't watch her. But this morning I'll be on my second horse, Whiskers. A slow plodder so quite safe to take into the woods.'
`In that case, Mr Main, I suggest you postpone your ride, confine yourself to your apartment for the morning.'
`What the hell for?You can't order me about!'
`Some members of my team are in The Forest shooting rabbits to help out Snape. There's a danger the growing population of our furry friends will overrun the place.'
`I haven't seen one damned one of the things on the lawn.'
`And you don't want them invading that lawn, digging up a labyrinth of warrens. Also,' Tweed went on genially, 'I don't want one of my suspects shot.'
`I'm a suspect?' Marshal's face reddened with fury.
`Everyone in this mansion is until we have all the evidence I am collecting almost hourly.'
`Oh, well...' Marshal paused uncertainly. 'I do have a whole pile of accounts to check in my apartment. If you'd spoken earlier I wouldn't have had to change my togs.'
With this parting shot he left the library, slamming the door behind him Shortly afterwards Snape appeared with a telephone he plugged into a wall socket.
`There's a Professor Heathstone on the line. Asked for you personally. Said it was urgent'
`Hello. Tweed here.'
`Good morning, Mr Tweed, I am a man of few words. I am a rare-book dealer.'
`I don't deal in them'
The voice was reedy, like that of an old man, throaty and pronouncing every word slowly. As though he had to remember what he wanted to say.
`Ah,' the voice continued, 'an impulsive man. Not what I had expected. I have important information for you. I have a room at the Pike's Peak Hotel in Gladworth. Could you be here in, say, fifteen minutes?'
`No, I couldn't. I'd need to know more about this alleged important information before I come anywhere near you.'
`Very well. I was in a second-hand bookshop in Paris quite recently when, tucked behind some rubbish, I found a first edition of
Ulysses
, by the Irish gentleman. Have you any idea of what that would go for at a London auction?'
`No. And if you don't get to the point quickly I'm going off the line.'
`Patience, Mr Tweed. Just a few moments longer. Inside was a sheet with names typed on it, a new sheet. It gave the names of the members of something called the Red Circle. The chairman, apparently, is someone called Calouste something or other.'
There was silence. Tweed thought he could hear heavy breathing on the line.