Colin Forbes - The Savage Gorge

Tweed stepped forward, hands thrust deep inside his coat. He stared grimly at the billionaire.

'Guile, I'm warning you not to visit Hobart House. Never again slip into the grounds of his property. If you do I'll arrest you at once. You'll be transported in a police car to the Yard, held there while I phone Chief Inspector Loriot of the DST in Paris, ask him to send for your immediate extradi tion to France. I gather he wishes to interrogate you about certain of your activities in Europe. Now, both of you, leave.'

As he stood up Paula saw Guile stare at Tweed with a look of venom she'd never seen on another human being's face. Without a word he walked into the hall through the doorway Tweed had opened, fol lowed by Lepard with Paula holding her gun close behind him.

Margot, close to the front door, unlocked, opened it. They walked out, down the steps towards their parked Citroen.

'I gather they're not wanted on the voyage,' Margot said wittily. She turned to a bank of switches, pressed two. The hall was plunged into darkness, but outside the terrace and beyond were illuminated with search light-like glares.

'Just to make sure they leave,' Margot said with a smile. 'I must get back to my room and homework, if you'll excuse me…'

She reached the top landing and bumped into Lance, who was on his way from his room. He squeezed her arm, ran down the staircase and across the hall to Tweed and Paula.

'Who were those peculiar people?' he asked. 'They never said a word.'

'Some businessmen who came to coax a loan from your father. He refused.'

'He's always being pestered by people who want money. Often over the phone.'

'Excuse me,' Tweed said, 'I have a private call to make.'

In a distant corner, dark despite the lights Margot had turned on again before she left, he pressed Harry's number.

'That you, Harry? Good. Where are you?'

'In a hole in a hedge, watching a Citroen approach from the mansion.'

'Inside are Neville Guile and his henchman, Lepard. They should drive along the lane. I want to make sure they leave. Paula and I will soon be driving up that way. Will pick you up. At the end of the lane the Citroen will turn left for the London road.'

'Got my car parked in a field. See you.'

Tweed returned to where Lance and Paula were chatting amiably.

'I really didn't like the look of the tall one with the cut-glass voice. Slithers when he walks.'

'Good metaphor,' Tweed said with a smile. 'He's a snake.'

'Hadn't we better get back and make sure Lord Bullerton is all right?' Paula suggested firmly.

Lance ran back up the stairs, As Tweed passed a wall of bookcases he paused, felt behind the wide gap behind them, took out the cardboard roll he'd found at the back of the brush cupboard in the kitchen. Paula looked puzzled.

'Why didn't we take that to Lord Bullerton earlier?'

She'd been shown it on their way from kitchen to hall. A lightning-quick reader, she had memorised its contents.

'Not in front of other people. Good job I didn't, considering who his visitors were.'

Entering the study, they found Bullerton seated again behind his desk. He was drinking the last of a double Scotch and another glass was waiting for him on the desk. He waved his glass to them.

'Cheers! And I can't thank you both so much for protecting me.'

Tweed sat down close to him, hammered the roll on the desk.

'What is all this about? You must tell me. It could be a link with my murder investigation.'

'Thought you'd find it. Has Paula also read it? Good. It is a legal document drawn up by Fingle, local solicitor. On Neville Guile's instructions. He has signed it, I have not and won't.'

'You'd be selling the whole of Black Gorse Moor and all the geological material beneath it for a million,' said Paula. 'A cool million pounds,' she repeated. 'What could be worth money like that?'

'No idea,' Bullerton told her. 'But if a crook like Neville Guile offers that much whatever it is has to be worth ten or twenty times as much. Only Archie

MacBlade could tell you. He wants to meet you for a late supper at the Nag's Head.'

'But I thought Hartland Trent and now, presum ably his heirs, had a seventy per cent holding in the moor,' Tweed insisted.

'That was so. Emphasis on past tense. Guile moves fast when a fortune is at stake. I raised the Trent issue with him. He gave that awful giggle of his. He'd used Fingle first to rush through the transfer of Hartland's estate to his son, Barton. Then he offers the twenty- year-old Barton – not too bright – seven thousand pounds for the holding.'

'The robber baron,' Paula exclaimed.

'Young Barton tells Guile he needs ten thousand pounds. He has a pal with a car he's mad to buy. After haggling Guile, apparently reluctantly, agrees to pay ten thousand. Guile has the sale document with him and Barton signs with two neighbours as witnesses. Guile showed me the document.'

'But without your signature on this document I brought in he has nothing.'

'Nothing.'

'If you don't mind,' Tweed said, standing up, 'I'm anxious to talk to Archie…'

Minutes later Tweed, with Paula by his side, was driving the Audi, slowly along the hedge-lined lane. Harry appeared in his headlights, waving.

'Neville Guile didn't take the left turn towards London,' he reported tersely. 'He took the right-hand turn heading for Gunners Gorge.'

'Wait here,' Tweed ordered. 'Your job – guard Lord Bullerton.'

'So we haven't seen the last of Mr Guile,' Paula mused.

'Never mind. We're about to learn the secret of Black Gorse Moor.'

Alighting from the Audi inside the garage they met Marler, just emerging from the hotel. He gave them both a mock salute.

'I've been on the prowl, as Harry would say. Checking on the suspects,' he drawled. 'Falkirk, famous private detective, is in his room. On same floor as yours, Tweed. Archie AlacBlade is having a drink in the Silver Room. See you.'

'The Silver Room?' queried Tweed. 'How many bars in this place?'

'In order of low to high -' Paula counted on her fin gers – 'a saloon bar, only really patronized in the evening. Public bar, more popular with local work men. Top of the tree, the luxurious Silver Room with prices to match.'

'I see. Let's get up to my suite. I need to think about what happened at Hobart House. May ask you to take notes…'

He was on the landing, heading for his suite, when Falkirk walked towards them on his way out. He nodded to Paula. She had sensed that Tweed's normally exceptional energy had reached a ferocious pitch. He was in no mood to put up with nonsense from anyone. He stood in front of Falkirk, blocking his exit.

'A word with you, Falkirk. In my suite.'

'Not convenient, old boy. I am just -'

'I mean now! '

'Not convenient.'

Tweed grabbed him tightly by the collar with one hand, with the other he handed Paula the key to his suite. She ran to open his door. He was pushing Falkirk backwards along the corridor, into his suite and across the room, where he threw him bodily into an armchair backed against the wall. Falkirk leapt up instantly, grabbed Tweed's throat and started to strangle him. Paula stood by. She knew Tweed would want to sort this out himself. With both hands he grasped Falkirk's arms above the elbows, pressed both hands against certain nerves. Pain appeared on Falkirk's face. He released his hands from Tweed's throat and was hurled back into the armchair. Again he leapt up, right legs raised to kick his opponent in the crotch. Tweed avoided the vicious kick, moved to one side, grasped Falkirk by the shoulders and threw him with some force against the wall. Paula heard his head contact the wall. Falkirk's eyes glazed over as he slid down.

Tweed bent down. He checked the carotid artery, then his pulse. He spoke to Paula over his shoulder.