Colin Forbes - Cell

Beaurain knew now he was going to ram Tweed. He dropped back. Ahead was a junction, no other traffic. To the left reared a new office building site, festooned with scaffolding rising high up. No workmen – they had all gone home. Beaurain started overtaking the juggernaut, honking his horn non-stop. The driver glared down. For a moment there was a wide gap as Tweed pressed his foot down again. The driver revved up to high speed.

Beaurain was ahead of him. He signalled left, cut in front of the juggernaut, missing him by inches. The driver panicked, swung his wheel to the left to avoid hitting the wrong target. Then he screamed.

The massive building site was rushing towards him. His hands slipped on the wheel, covered with the sweat of fear. The cab had been jerked round too suddenly. Behind it the huge load pushed it forward. It slammed at speed into the maze of scaffolding, rushed on, crashing into a huge concrete wall. The cab concertina'd, was squashed into less than half its normal size, stopped. Deathly silence.

'What happened?' Sally asked in her dumb voice.

'Truck skidded,' Beaurain said calmly, driving on. 'I saw the driver climbing down out of his cab,' he lied.

'I've decided to drive up to Carpford,' Paula announced.

'Tweed wouldn't sanction that,' Monica burst out, appalled. 'It's dark. There's no one left to come with you. That is just about the most dangerous thing you could do.'

'He sanctioned my going to Italy.' Paula was feeling restless. As she spoke she slipped on her wool-lined windcheater. She was also clad in warm jeans. She put on her knee-length boots as she went on talking. 'The evening is a perfect time to interview people, to catch them off guard.'

'Beaurain was with you when you went to Italy,' Monica protested.

'True. But Jules isn't available, is he?'

She unlocked a drawer, took out her Beretta 6.35mm automatic. Empty, it weighed only ten ounces and was about four-and-a-half inches long. She checked to make sure it was unloaded, slid in a full magazine, put a spare in the windcheater pocket. The gun slipped down easily inside her spacious boot. A small sheathed knife slid down inside the other boot. And she had her Browning inside the special pocket in her shoulder bag.

'I could phone Tweed at Santini's, get his opinion,' Monica persisted.

'Don't you dare!'

The icy cold hit her face when she left and climbed inside her car. The heater soon warmed up the interior as she drove towards Baker Street. She didn't expect everyone to be at home in the village but some of them never seemed to leave it. Then a barrier stopped her with a diversion sign.

She could see most of a juggernaut protruding from a building in the course of construction. A policeman she happened to know leaned down as she lowered the window.

'That doesn't look nice,' she said. 'Any casualties?'

'The driver inside the cab. I don't think we're going to find much of him left.' He coughed, feeling he'd said too much. 'Don't quote me, Miss Grey.'

'I've already forgotten what you said, John.'

She gave him a smile as she swung down the diversion. Soon she was racing down the A3, just inside the speed limit. No other traffic. A ghostly moon shone on the frosted fields. She was pleased to be on her own for once. Now she could handle things her way.

She had crossed the first Down, swept along the steep hill beyond, when she paused by the inn on the main road, the inn where Buller's car had been found abandoned. What the devil was going on? she wondered as she turned off up the steep, twisting road up into the remote Downs. She felt justified in what she was doing. Tweed had emphasized he thought little time was left before London was subjected to a catastrophic attack.

High up, headlights on full beam, she turned off at the triangle leading to Black Wood. She began to doubt whether she had been wise when trails of mist drifted through the trees as she drove carefully down the 'rabbit warren'. Now she was hemmed in on both sides by high banks. She caught sight of movement.

Something inside the mist close to the road. She stopped, kept the engine running, took hold of her Browning, lowered her window. Now she could hear something approaching her car. A crunching of feet on the dead bracken. God! Had she been impetuous? The stealthy approach came closer, the something disturbing the bracken. She checked – yes, she had locked all her doors before starting out.

Her nerves were vibrating. Who on earth could be stalking through Black Wood? Her sense of menace grew stronger. Maybe she had made a fatal mistake in stopping? She thought of driving on. But a bullet fired accurately from above would finish her off. It was too late now to change her mind.

Then the something slithered down the bank in front of her. For a moment it stood in the glare of the headlights. A large fox. With a swift reaction it climbed the opposite bank and was gone. She took off her gloves, wiped both hands clean of the sweat, put them on again, drove on down the gulch road and soon she was climbing the road up to Carpford.

She eased her way round the sharp corner where Mrs Warner's car had been found abandoned. So many reminders of people who had vanished into thin air. Unnerving disappearances. She had little doubt Beaurain was convinced they had all been murdered. But if he was right how had they disposed of the bodies? Carp Lake had been dragged and nothing found there.

Cresting the rise to the plateau on which Carpford was perched, she was not happy to see that the mist was thicker up here, almost a fog. Paula had decided the first place she wanted to check was Mrs Gobble's shop. Was the telescope still there? She drove slowly past Garda, Victor Warner's weird Italianate residence. Lights in all the windows. He must have come up here himself.

Driving slowly on, she passed the futuristic blocks of concrete cubes which were Drew Franklin's hideaway. More lights in the porthole windows. Maybe she had come up on the right night.

No lights in Mrs Gobble's shop. Their absence gave the place a funereal look. Driving a few feet beyond it, she saw a large shed half-hidden behind it. Hadn't noticed that before. She stopped, left the engine running for a quick getaway, got out.

Like stepping into the Arctic, a mist-bound Arctic. The two doors to the shed had a padlock which was not closed. She eased the doors open, Browning in her hand. Extracting her flashlight from another pocket, she switched it on. The place was empty. No sign it had been used for a long time. Then it struck her this was the ideal place to park her car out of sight. Within minutes she was closing the doors with her car inside. Now she needn't advertise her approach.

The door to the shop was open. She entered cautiously, her flashlight swivelling round. It had been searched, by the police she felt sure. An attempt had been made to put things back where they belonged. Male searchers. They could never put things back in the right place. She noticed the four-panelled screen was still standing. No sign of the telescope. It had gone. Taken by who?

She decided to approach Palfry's huge tub of a home first. Following the path she had walked with Tweed, it was only when she was close to it that, because of the fog, she saw there were lights. But where was the entrance? She crept round the side and found steps leading up to an arched door. She swivelled her flashlight up its side and realized for the first time how massive the place was. Mounting the steps, she pressed the illuminated bell, heard chimes pealing inside. The door was opened after sounds of locks being released. In bright light stood Peregrine Palfry.

'Ah, Miss Grey, what a pleasant surprise. Do come in…'

His smooth face was smiling, as always. He had greeted her as though this was nothing unusual. Diplomatic training, she thought. He closed the door on the fog as soon as she was inside. Wearing a smart check sports jacket and beige slacks with a sharp crease, his shirt open at the collar.