The Savage Gorge (4 page)

'What's it called?'

'Eyes Only. Short and to the point. . .'

He paused as Paula's mobile buzzed. She answered
and after a few words she handed it to Tweed.
'Professor Saafeld. Sounds urgent.'

'We'll be there in half an hour, maybe less,' Tweed
said after listening briefly. 'He's puzzled,' he told
Paula. 'If you're willing to cooperate with me on this
case,' he said to Falkirk, 'you can come with us.
Which client are you working for now?' he asked
abruptly.

'Now you know a private detective never reveals the
identity of his client,' Falkirk smiled engagingly. 'Part
of the code.'

The Audi was stopped. The traffic wasn't moving.
Tweed opened his door, called over his shoulder.

'We'll be here awhile. An accident with police cars.
A huge tow-truck is grappling with a monster
Cadillac. You won't be able to get into Saafeld's mor
tuary, Falkirk. I've just spotted Buchanan in a car
three vehicles back. Both of you stay here . . .'

'Then I'll leave you in a minute,' Falkirk called
back. 'Have an urgent appointment so I'll be able to
get there early.'

'Refusing to tell us who your client is doesn't strike
me as my idea of cooperation,' Paula said sharply
when Tweed had gone.

'Sorry, way of the world.'

'Another thing,' she persisted, 'private detectives
always have to carry an identity folder and yet you
hadn't anything on you when they searched you at
Pine Street.'

'Reedbeck is a lousy searcher.' Falkirk grinned,
opened his jacket, lifted the hem. Undoing an invisible
zip fastener he extracted an identity folder, handed it
to her. The photo of him was good and she saw he
was forty years old.

'You need money too,' Falkirk went on.

From the same pocket he prised out a wad of folded
banknotes. She guessed he must be carrying at least
two hundred pounds. He must be doing well out of
Eyes Only.

Tweed had lied when he told them he'd seen
Buchanan. In his rear-view mirror he'd seen Harry
following several vehicles behind him in his beat-up
old grey Fiat. Stationary in the log jam, Harry
jumped out, followed Tweed down a side street. A
woman backed her car out of a resident's bay and
drove off.

'You won't believe this,' the cockney began. 'Back at
the office, earlier, I was coming in when I heard
voices. The door wasn't closed properly. I heard what
Lisa said about the people stalking her, then crept

back up the stairs. Well, on your way with her to
Lynton Avenue, with me keeping well back, she
was
followed. A hunchback first. He vanishes down an
alley. When I've found an empty parking slot and run
back to the alley he's gone. I hurtle down the empty
alley into the next street. A woman dressed in black
with a black veil walks past me. Carrying a large
strong carrier bag from an expensive clothes shop.'

'Peculiar.' Tweed began talking quickly. 'I have a
passenger in my car beside Paula.'

'Falkirk. Met him over two years ago. When you
sent me down to the Yard with a sealed folder.'

'God, what a memory.'

'Has a 'tache and long hair since then.'

'Listen, Harry, he'll be leaving me shortly. Follow
him to the end of the earth . . .'

'I can just turn the Fiat into that empty slot. If he
walks I'll collect the car later. If he takes a cab I'll use
the car.'

'Don't lose him.'

'You
are
talking to Harry Butler!'

The moment Tweed settled himself behind the wheel
of his Audi, Falkirk opened his door on the pavement
side. Squeezing Paula's arm, he paused to speak to
Tweed.

'I'm off now. Pointless if I'm not allowed into the
mortuary. Saafeld is right, of course. I'll keep in contact.
Be good - if you can't do that, be careful. Cheerio ...'

In his rear-view mirror Tweed saw Falkirk take the
second empty taxi parked behind them. He was
amused at his choice.

'Falkirk ignored the first empty cab, took the one
behind it. He was worried I'd hired Harry to follow
him.'

'Well, we've lost him anyway,' Paula said, now occu
pying the front passenger seat next to Tweed.

He smiled as the traffic suddenly started moving
again. He told her about his conversation with Harry.
When he reported his instructions Paula smiled.

'Falkirk may be smart but Harry's smarter. He'll
never lose him.'

She went on to tell him about the trick with his iden
tity folder and the money he was carrying. Tweed
merely grunted, his mind elsewhere. As they reached
Holland Park he turned down the winding cul-de-sac
leading to Saafeld's HQ. There were other large private mansions vaguely visible behind trees coming into leaf.
It had been a hard winter so the trees were flourishing
late. He stopped in front of a pair of high wrought-iron
gates let into a ten-foot-high wall, jumped out, used
the speakphone set into a pillar to identify himself.

The gates opened, closed automatically behind
them. They walked up a curving drive hemmed in by
rhododendron bushes. A large white stone mansion
came into view and Saafeld stood waiting by a massive
open front door.

Professor Saafeld, the country's top pathologist, was
of medium height, well built, thick white hair above a

high forehead which suggested brain power. It was an
impression reinforced by the sharpness of his eyes, which gazed unblinking at anyone he was talking to.
He wore a smart blue bird's-eye suit and was in his
late fifties. He hugged Paula, who had been to his HQ before.

Tm not going to hug you,' he said with a grin at
Tweed.

'Thank heavens for small mercies.'

'We'll go straight into the mortuary. I'm only at the
first stage of my autopsy on the two ladies. Also,' he
went on, 'I'm puzzled. Show you why . . .'

In front of a large steel door coated with white
enamel he pressed buttons inside a security panel,
pulled at the handle. The door opened and closed
with an airlock's sucking sound. They descended a
flight of stone steps into a small room which was very
cold. Paula remembered the procedure as Saafeld
opened a cupboard, handed each of them a white
coat, a cap, a pair of white gloves and a pair of outsize
canvas shoes. The moment they were dressed he
pressed buttons in another security panel and a large
steel door opened slowly. A unique odour drifted in the air, the odour of death. This time she was pre
pared for it as she adjusted her mask.

'You're getting used to it,' Saafeld said with a reassuring smile. He was not wearing a mask. 'I never do,
but sometimes there's an element in the odour which
tells me how they died . . .'

It was a large room with eight spotless metal-topped

tables equipped with encircling gutters. Saafeld
skipped the length of the room to two more tables,
occupied with bodies covered with white sheets. Paula
was always amazed at Saafeld's agility: he moved like
a twenty-year-old. A tall man clothed in white stood
waiting.

'This excellent chap is Joffey, my new assistant.
Been here six months. Joffey, meet our important vis
itors. Deputy Chief Tweed and his brilliant assistant Paula Grey. I'd say we're ready now . . .'

Paula tensed inwardly as Joffey lifted the nearest
sheet. It was the woman who had lain nearest Lisa Clancy's house. Paula shuddered inwardly. The cuts had dug deeply into her flesh.

'Hatred on the killer's part,' Paula said softly.

'Or a determination neither would be recognizable,'
Tweed commented.

At a nod from Saafeld, Joffey replaced the sheet,
moved to the next table. He lifted the sheet clear of
the head and neck again. The massacre of the face was
just as ruthless on the other victim.

'In each case,' Saafeld explained, 'the killer cut the
throat first with a very sharp knife. I suggest he came
up behind them, grabbed their long hair, which you
notice was dishevelled, hauled the head back, expos
ing the throat for a swift slash ear to ear. Probably only
took seconds. What puzzles me is what kind of
weapon he used to ruin their faces, to create the deep
random squiggles. Hector might solve the problem -
you can't put photos of those horrors in the papers

asking if anyone knows them. Joffey, ask Hector to join

us.'

'Hector?'

Paula was taken aback by the name. She made a
major effort to compose her expression when Joffey
opened a door at the rear. A very small tubby man bounced into the room. Humpty Dumpty, Paula said
under her breath.

'May I introduce you to one of the cleverest men in
the country,' Saafeld began. 'Meet Hector Humble.'
He introduced the tubby little man to his guests. 'He
can bring both those women back to how they looked
in life.'