Colin Forbes - Cell

'You see the lake?' she began.

'I do. Driving any faster and we'd have been in it.'

'Follow the road to the left. We'll start with Martin Hogarth's bungalow. I'm sure he'll be so glad to see us…'

Marler drove the car off the road on to the open field when he saw the dim outline of the bungalow. Switching everything off, he followed her towards the entrance. He gripped her by the arm, stopped her, whispered.

'He's up. Glow of light from between the shutters closed over the windows.'

Turning on his powerful torch, he aimed it at the roof. A slim radio mast protruded upwards. Reducing the strength of the beam, he went up to the door, examined the locks. A well-known make. He handed his torch to Paula, gestured to indicate he needed her to shine it on the lock.

Taking out a small folded leather tool-kit, he extracted an oilcan, a pick-lock. He squirted oil first on the lock, then a smear on the pick. He heard the tumblers drop back, put his tools back in the leather holdall. Very gently, he turned the door handle. His acute hearing had caught the sound of a voice speaking inside. He pushed the door open a few inches. No creak. The door's hinges were well oiled.

Paula stood next to him as light flooded out from the narrow opening. Martin's voice came to them clearly, speaking emphatically.

'I tell you Billy is not here. I have checked his bungalow and it's empty. What? No, I don't have any idea where he is. And no, I've no idea where he might have gone. Must go now…'

Marler realized Martin had been alerted to their presence by the drop in temperature as icy air percolated in from the outside. He walked in, Walther in his right hand, followed by Paula. Martin had his back to them as he put down a telephone on a table. His right hand reached inside his jacket.

'Don't do anything stupid, Martin,' Marler ordered.

Turning round slowly, Martin rubbed fingers across his mouth as though considering how to respond. He was fully dressed in a grey business suit. He dropped both hands, exposing them palms outwards, demonstrating he had no weapon.

'What the devil are you doing here?' he hissed. 'Breaking and entering? A crime. I'll put you both behind bars..,.'

'Martin,' Marler interrupted in cold voice, 'who were you calling on that phone?'

'None of your damn business.'

'But it is our damn business,' Marler told him, moving closer. 'You're mixed up with the New Age people – and something far worse.'

'Prove it,' Martin snapped with a feeble show of bravado.

'I'll leave Superintendent Buchanan to do that. You're already linked to New Age for starters.' With his left hand Marler produced a pair of plastic handcuffs, recently issued. Locked on wrists, they clicked tighter and tighter if the prisoner struggled with them. 'Turn round,' Marler went on. 'Hold both wrists close together behind your back.'

The next minute was horrific. Martin twisted his lips in a strange attempt to look defiant, then crunched on something in his mouth. His face twisted again into something almost unrecognizable as his hand darted to his throat. He let out a terrible half-choked scream, fell sideways into a chair. It became a gurgle of unbearable pain. His eyes bulged. Paula rushed forward. She had only seen this once before.

'He swallowed something. He put it in his mouth when his back was turned to us.' She sounded desperate as she reached him, bent down.

'Water,' said Marler. 'With salt. An emetic…'

He was heading for the kitchen when Paula shook her head. By now Martin was thrashing his legs and arms, still in the chair. Paula stopped Marler.

'No good. He's gone. I caught a whiff of bitter almonds from his mouth. He swallowed a cyanide pill. We can't save him.'

Martin's thrashing body suddenly became motionless. He sagged in the chair. His eyes were open. Dead eyes. Marler came back, looked down at him. He realized he was still holding the Walther. He slipped it back inside his holster.

'Why on earth did he do that?'

'My guess,' Paula replied quietly, 'is he knew he'd be linked to al-Qa'eda. That he'd face a sentence of thirty years in prison. Couldn't face it.'

'I'll inform Buchanan at once,' Marler decided, taking out his mobile. 'We'll need an ambulance up here urgently. And no screaming sirens up here – or flashing lights…'

He was lucky. When he pressed Buchanan's private number at the Yard, the superintendent answered immediately. Marler explained the situation in as few words as possible. The superintendent said he was on his way to Carpford with an ambulance at once.

'Buchanan's coming himself,' Marler told Paula.

She had forced herself, after putting on latex gloves, to go through the dead man's pockets. Inside a thick wallet she found credit cards, driving licence, five hundred pounds in five-pound notes. She also found a one-way ticket to the Bahamas via New York. She showed the ticket to Marler.

'Look as though he was about to flee. The Bahamas. That suggests Gerald Hanover.'

'Isn't he the man who is controlling the whole operation?'

'Yes. Or the woman.'

They continued the search while waiting for Buchanan. Marler closed the door to Martin's bungalow but left the door unlocked.

The door to Billy Hogarth's bungalow was closed but also unlocked. Which Paula found strange and said so to Marler.

'An obvious explanation,' he replied. 'We heard Martin say on the phone to someone that he'd checked Billy's place. Anything strike you in here?'

'Nothing.' Paula went on checking. She worked quickly and had the reputation at Park Crescent of being an expert when it came to searching. After checking living-room, kitchen and the two bedrooms she came out, held out her hands in a dismissive gesture.

'Nothing anywhere. Nothing I wouldn't expect to find. A gap in his wardrobe, but they'll be the things he took with him to London. Palfry's tub-house next. No, we'll call on Margesson first. Tweed keeps dismissing him as unimportant.'

Marler first pressed the bell after pretending to admire the outside of the Georgian house. There was a light on in a first-floor room. They both heard the heavy thump of footsteps coming down a staircase. The door was flung open and Margesson, clad in a strange robe which fell almost to his ankles, glared out. Even his beard seemed to bristle. Marler was holding up his identity folder.

'Do you know what time it is?' Margesson fulminated.

'Yes, we do,' said Marler. 'But you obviously were not asleep.. .'

'I was praying. Does that mean nothing to you? This is the state the world has collapsed to. No discipline. No courtesy. You wonder why the revolution is coming?'

'Which revolution is that?' Marler enquired. 'And we can listen to your views more comfortably if you invite us in. It is bitterly cold out here – and the cold is getting into your magnificent home,' he said with a rare smile.

'You like it?' Margesson's mood changed. 'For a few minutes then.' His mood changed again. He pointed at Paula. 'She can't come in. Only one woman is permitted to enter my home.'

'Thank you.' Marler pushed past the large figure, holding Paula by the hand. 'Thank you,' he said again.

Confused, Margesson closed the door. As he turned round the folds of his silken robe swished. He waved towards a sofa.

'You may sit.'

Marler sat down with Paula beside him. He gazed round the spacious room, furnished with expensive sofas and chairs, all covered with Oriental designs of a weird character. The big man sat down in a high throne chair facing them. Paula also looked round the strange room.

'This is so beautiful,' she commented.

'I have spent time on my surroundings. It is probably a sin. The world is full of sin.' His voice had risen, his arms waving. 'Society in the West has fallen to the depths and there is no structure, no discipline, just orgies of the most frightful behaviour. Even the children are polluted.'