Colin Forbes - By Stealth

`Mr Tweed, how marvellous, this gives us a chance to plan our liaison in London.'

She gave the word 'liaison' a certain seductive emphasis. Taking hold of his arm, she led him towards the bar.

`And my glass is empty.'

`So what are you drinking?' Tweed paused as they passed a window table where Burgoyne sat with Fanshawe and Helen Claybourne. 'Do you mind?' he enquired.

`The best man always wins,' Burgoyne said sardonically. He did not look pleased, Paula noted. 'Don't mind me,' the Brigadier added with a final slash. 'I'm just part of the furniture.'

Paula stood still as Fanshawe, beaming, jumped up, came to her rescue. Taking her by the arm, he guided her to the seat Lee had occupied next to Helen Claybourne.

`How nice to see you again, Paula. I may call you Paula? Good. I'm Willie. We're working our way through a bottle of Laurent Perrier, as you'll see. Or would you prefer a different tipple?'

`Champagne is my favourite drink, thank you.'

And there he goes again, she thought. The words had tumbled out of his wide, generous mouth. The use of the old-fashioned word 'tipple'. She glanced towards the bar as Lee laughed, a tinkling laugh full of enjoyment. She was performing a pirouette and her long blonde hair swept in a wave over her bare shoulders. The eyes of every man in the room studied her – furtively when the were with their wives.

`Lots of lovely bubbly champers,' Lee said. 'And the way things are going – with you turning up – I'll end up feeling just like one of those bubbles…'

Paula clinked glasses with Willie and watched Helen Claybourne over the rim of her glass as she sipped. Unlike Lee, Helen was wearing the same outfit as when they'd met the previous evening. There was a touch of demure severity about her mandarin collar and pleated skirt. Very businesslike, Paula thought approvingly – compared with Lee, who was the essence of joie de vivre.

Helen glanced towards the bar as Lee laughed again. With her refilled glass, she had twined her long bare arm round Tweed, crossing their glasses so each could sip out of the other's. Her greenish eyes glowed as Tweed watched her with a hint of amused tolerance.

`I'm a fun girl,' she confided. 'I think life should be fun. You and I could make that come true. I can tell from looking into your eyes, you secretive man.'

`What do you want to know about me?' he asked amiably.

`You're married, I can tell. But I don't think that you are living with your wife any more.' She squeezed his arm. `Go on, confess. Am I right?'

`You must be psychic,' Tweed observed. 'It was all a long time ago.'

`The memory lingers on?'

Not really. It's faded into history. And I live in the present, not the past.'

She had hit an exposed nerve, but he was surprised he was not in the least annoyed with her. Had she done her homework? His wife had run off with a Greek millionaire to South America a hundred years ago. Maybe it was just feminine intuition. Lee nodded solemnly.

`You are an interesting man. Live in the present always. That's my motto.' She drank more champagne. `Have you a nice pad in London? Somewhere I could come and see you? I'd love that.'

`Maybe we'd better have lunch sometime first,' Tweed said evasively. `Do you get on well with Burgoyne?'

`Can you imagine any woman doing that…'

At the table by the window overlooking the illuminated car park and the lawn Paula decided to drop a bombshell. But Helen was glancing again at the bar and put her spoke in first.

`The trouble with Lee is she has to hypnotize every man in sight. It's a mania with her and she seems to have your friend in the palm of her hand already.'

`It's a nice palm anyway,' Paula said equably. She dropped her bombshell. heard a rumour that you and the Brigadier had to identify a body brought out of the sea. And that it was Irene Andover's corpse.'

`How the hell did you hear that?'

Burgoyne sat stiff-necked, glaring at Paula. His tone was cutting as though dressing down a private soldier. He leaned forward, gazing at Paula as he went on.

I suppose Tweed is – was -the negotiator for his insurance outfit, trying to act as go-between for Andover with the kidnappers of his daughter.'

`Kidnappers?' Paula sounded stunned.

`Well, it's been obvious,' Burgoyne hammered at her in a bullying manner. 'Andover for the past three months has rapidly deteriorated physically and mentally. A shadow of his former self. And it all coincided with the disappearance of Irene.'

`I thought you said she'd hopped off with a Frenchman,' Paula reminded him.

`Her corpse hadn't materialized then. We were all trying to keep it under wraps.'

`Maurice,' Willie urged, 'you're talking too loud. I don't think anyone has heard you yet in here but go on like that and they will..

`You keep out of this.' But Burgoyne had lowered his voice. 'And you've been as blind as a bat as to what's been going on right on your doorstep.'

`I simply had no idea,' Willie protested. 'What's all this about a body fished out of the sea? I'm completely in the dark.'

`You always are,' Burgoyne said brutally.

Paula was furious. Willie was obviously hurt. He drank a lot of champagne to cover up his discomfiture. Burgoyne was well into his stride. He focused on Paula again.

`Your boss has made a right balls-up of it this time. The poor girl might have been saved if he hadn't been brought in – by Andover, I assume – and stumbled around like the legendary bull in a china shop.'

'He usually knows what he's doing,' Paula said quietly, determined to keep her temper.

`I find all this very perplexing, distressing,' Willie complained in a subdued voice. 'Won't someone please put me in the picture?'

This was the moment when Helen intervened. The only sign that she was irked by Burgoyne was one crossed leg swinging up and down.

`Willie, a lot of this is rumour. Maurice is in one of his moods tonight. There's absolutely nothing for you to feel upset about. We'll hear in good time – and from a more reliable source than the Brig. – what is really going on.

We're supposed to be here this evening to enjoy ourselves.'

She gave him her cool smile. Paula saw Willie relax. He beamed at her and then proceeded to refill her glass.

`Helen's right. We are here to enjoy ourselves. From now on the enjoyment starts.' He looked at her glass. `Sorry, that's a meagre tot-up. We've run out.'

`Yes,' said Helen. She looked at Burgoyne. 'Maurice – don't you think you ought to order another bottle? I thought you were host and the others may join us soon.'

`Doesn't look much like it to me. Lee's swarming all over Tweed,' Burgoyne growled.

`Maurice,' she repeated, 'please order another bottle.'

To Paula's surprise the Brigadier summoned the barman and placed the order. From that moment the tension drained out of the atmosphere. Willie babbled on cheerfully about his days in the Far East, Burgoyne listened with an expression suggesting he'd heard it all before. Helen relaxed in her chair, produced a large fountain-pen from her evening bag, and began scribbling a list on a notepad.

Tweed eventually brought back Lee to the table. He had a twinkle in his eyes as he drew out a chair for her while addressing the Brigadier.

`You needn't have worried. I've brought her back all in one piece.'

`Why should I worry?' Burgoyne retorted.

Tweed took Paula into dinner and they chose a table well away from Newman's. Paula asked why.

`Best not to let anyone know he's with us,' Tweed replied cryptically. `Did you learn anything?'

`A lot. You're going to be surprised – maybe even puzzled…'

Nield and Butler, tailing the camper, had to exercise all their skill in what turned out to be a tricky task. The camper had driven down the track, turned right, and headed through the night along the B3055 to Brockenhurst. Nield had driven his Sierra out of the copse in time to see it emerging from the track. He was soon glad he'd taken the precaution of keeping well back.