Colin Forbes: The Savage Gorge

'Hobartshire? I've just about heard of it. Where is it? '

Paula already had unfolded her map of Great Britain. She was pointing with an elegant finger. She nodded,

'It's all right, Roy, ' Tweed said, 'Paula has located it.'

'It's in the middle of nowhere, the whole country/ Buchanan went on. I know your history is good, Remember centuries ago a few MPs had pocket bor oughs they ruled like little kings? Hobartshire is still like that, controlled by a Lord Bullerton, who is a pal of Reedbeck's. Bullerton also dines with Reedbeck at his country house. Hence the manipulation of Reedbeck into my lap plus promotion to chief inspec tor. As Commander of the Anti-Terrorist Squad I can't waste time fighting them.'

'I'll take over the complete investigation. Hammer that into Reedbeck's thick head,' Tweed said grimly. 'Now I'm contacting Professor Saafeld. He'll be over here in fifteen minutes with his special vehicle. Tell Reedbeck that. Next we're off to Pine Street police station to find out just who Reedbeck has locked up on no evidence at all. You can reach me on Paula's mobile. You have the number. She's by my side. Goodbye…'

He called and explained the situation to Professor Saafeld. The pathologist confirmed he should arrive inside ten minutes, using his sirens.

'You may meet opposition at Pine Street,' Paula warned.

I’ll crush it.'

They drove out of the silence of Bexford Street into heavy traffic. Eventually, arriving at Pine Street, they saw a police motor cycle courier Tweed recognised. He jumped off his parked machine, ran to Tweed.

'This is for you, sir, from Commander Buchanan,' the courier explained, handing him a large sealed envelope. 'Don't bother about a receipt. I know you and I'll forge your name.'

'Good man.' Tweed was breaking the seals after sit ting back in the passenger seat Paula had vacated. The envelope contained two official-looking documents, which he scanned quickly. He raised his eyebrows when he saw the signatures on both.

'Any trouble here and I'll clobber them,' he told Paula. 'You stay with me all the time.'

Pine Street station was an ugly new mass of con crete blocks with a crooked needle on top of the central gable. Inside, Tweed was confronted with a stubborn-faced uniformed policeman behind a recep tion counter protected with a screen of bars.

'You'll 'ave to wait. Sit over there. We're busy,' Stubborn informed him in a rasping voice.

'Read this document. I presume you can read? Lift this barrier – but first look at my identity folder. Now!'

Stubborn peered at the SIS folder. He swallowed after reading the document, and raised the barrier. 'Lumme,' he gasped, 'first time I've ever seen the sig nature of the Assistant Commissioner. Gather you want to see the murderer we locked up.'

'Watch your words,' Tweed snapped. 'And I need to interview him in complete privacy. With my assistant, Miss Grey.'

Stubborn pressed a button below his counter.

'They want to see the prisoner Chief Inspector Reedbeck brought in. If they so decide, they have authority for him to be released into Mr Tweed's cus tody.'

Tm Constable Merle Pardoe,' a uniformed police woman informed them in a pleasant voice. She extracted a bunch of keys from inside her pocket. Not dangling from her belt where they could be snatched, Tweed noticed. As she unlocked a steel door he glanced at Paula, sending her a signal. He needed extra staff at Park Crescent.

Once they were the far side of the closed door, in a long deserted corridor, Paula reacted, smiling at Constable Pardoe.

'I may need to interview you about conditions here. Where is a good place we could meet if Mr Tweed decides he'd like me to do that?'

Without stopping, Pardoe took a card from her top pocket and scribbled something on the back, handed it to Paula. She paused before unlocking another steel door at a lower level.

'I shouldn't say it. That Sergeant, Wulgar, is bad enough but you are about to meet Frankenstein him self, a guard called Milburn. Staff were chosen by Chief Inspector Reedbeck.'

'Explains a lot,' Paula said to herself.

'He kept me on "for the moment", as he put it because I'd been here to clear up the place before it went on station. It was spotless after I'd chivvied up the cleaning ladies. Take a deep breath now.'

She used another key to open a third massive steel door down in the cells, told them they'd arrived and walked swiftly away. On the other side of the door their way was blocked by a six-foot-two giant.

'Milburn?' enquired Tweed.

'That's me.'

He had the build of an American quarterback, his wide chest and shoulders almost bursting out of his uniform. His large ugly face and icebreaker-like jaw exuded aggression.

'Is that the prisoner I've come to interview?' Tweed demanded.

'That's 'im.' He leered at Paula. 'Is this your girl? Or is she snooty like that Pardoe bit?'

'Which suggests,' Paula broke in, 'you tried to come on to her and she told you to get lost.' Her tone was icy. 'I wonder why?'

'Watch your dirty mouth,' Tweed warned him in a dangerously quiet voice. 'You're in the presence of a lady, like Miss Pardoe. Now shut up and open the cell door.'

The prisoner was a lean man, good looking, with long dark hair and a neatly trimmed moustache. He was settled on the only furniture in the cell, a long bed at the rear, perched against a foam pad serving as a pillow. His legs were carefully stretched along the bed and he wore a smart grey suit. A clean blue shirt was open at the collar, exposing a lean muscular neck. He glanced at Tweed and Paula, then switched his gaze to his well-polished walking shoes.

'The sod -' Milburn began then changed it as Tweed glared at him. 'The prisoner won't talk, hasn't uttered one word since they brought 'im in. No name. Nothing. I'll sort 'im out this evening,' he promised as he unlocked the cell door.

'Leave the door unlocked and open,' Tweed ordered as he entered the cell with Paula.

Watching Tweed's expression, Paula had the impression sudden recognition was dawning. On the other hand the prisoner gazed at Tweed with no sign of recognition whatsoever. Tweed called over his shoulder.

'Milburn, I repeat, don't lock that door, we're leav ing with the prisoner. You've had your orders from Sergeant Wulgar. And now you don't say a word.'

Tweed and Paula smiled at Merle Pardoe as she opened the door to the outside world. Tweed paused to speak to her.

'We do appreciate the courtesy you've shown us since we entered Dartmoor.'

'That's our duty, sir.'

'No, that's your duty, which you perform perfectly. No one else in this place.'

'Mr Tweed,' Wulgar called out as they were passing his counter, 'I need you to sign this document con firming the prisoner is now in your custody.'

'Sign it yourself,' Tweed rapped back as they walked on, leaving the station.

Outside, Tweed opened the rear door of the Audi, gestured to both Paula and the prisoner.

'The two of you ride in the back.'

As he was driving along the busy road he called out again to his passengers.

'Paula, meet ex-Inspector Dermot Falkirk, once sta tioned at Scotland Yard. Now I'm looking for a nice place which serves coffee and maybe sandwiches.'

'You must have recognized Tweed the moment we came into the cell,' Paula said to Falkirk. 'Yet you showed no sign you'd ever seen him before. Why?'

'I wasn't saying a word inside that place. Reedbeck may have had my cell wired.'

'But even earlier, when you were falsely arrested, you kept quiet.'

'Had to. Reedbeck made a colossal blunder. Arrested me on no evidence. Didn't recognize me until after his arrest. I've grown this moustache since I left the Yard and worked under him. Also my hair has grown very long. When he realized who I was it was too late – for him. He had set the wheels in motion, was too stupid to back off…'