Colin Forbes - The Main chance

The air-conditioning grille near Calouste was hurled across the room under the pressure of the water which had built up. A great flood rushed into the room as the second grille gave way. Calouste was momentarily distracted. Paula aimed her Browning, shot him in the left kneecap. Screaming with agony, Calouste dropped his Glock pistol, used both hands to clap his knee, still screaming. He lost his balance, fell off the platform into more than a foot of water.

The entire lake seemed to be entering the room.

Water surged towards where Tweed was standing. It was now at least three feet deep. He ran up the steps, ordering a general evacuation. When they had all reached the corridor the water below was six feet deep. Calouste was desperately trying to swim to their steps, with an odd dog-paddle of a movement. He reached the steps, clawed his way up to the platform as water slid across it. His face was now a picture of terror as he looked up, waving a claw-like hand. `Please save me,' he screeched. 'Save me. I will give you millions!'

Harry stared down at him. He used one hand to lever the heavy trapdoor shut. Paula was sure she heard the crunch of skull bone. They were hurrying along the corridor when Harry pointed at water seeping through the walls, mortar coming loose. `Let's get the hell out of here – the whole place is coming down.'

From near the summit of the knoll, where they had parked the cars, they watched the dramatic scene below. The Chateau was coming apart. The tall turret in the middle of the roof, with the fabulously expensive communications equipment, was tilting slowly towards the front wall. Its tempo of disintegration increased. It fell towards the wall facing the Ardennes slope, split into several sections and hammered a huge hole in the wall. `Time we got moving,' Philip said. `We're going to run the Brussels gauntlet again,' suggested Paula. `No. We're driving down through the tiny state of Luxembourg. Heading for the airport outside the city. A late plane will leave for Heathrow. You've all got reserved seats. Here are your tickets. We must leave now.'

Philip's Land Rover led the way south. Tweed was seated next to him. Paula travelled in the rear seat. They quickly descended from the heights into narrow roads through defiles. On either side massive limestone cliffs hemmed them in with an occasional clump of trees by the roadside. Paula felt relieved to look at different scenery.

As a golden dawn glowed in the east they approached the airport, which was very quiet. A single plane waited some way out on the tarmac. Before passing easily through the formalities Tweed used Paula's mobile to call Monica and instruct her to use staff from Communications. His second call was to Jim Corcoran, Chief of Security at Heathrow, who said a bus would meet their plane. Finally, Tweed turned to Philip, shook him by the hand and thanked him warmly. `Isn't Philip coming with us?' Paula asked.

Not this time,' Philip said with a grin. 'My work is here in Europe. I'll be travelling a long way east…'

It was broad daylight when their plane took off. Paula looked at Tweed, asked him what he was thinking about. `Who killed Bella, then Mrs Carlyle.'

Jim Corcoran, Chief of Security at Heathrow and close friend of Tweed's, met the plane with a small bus as soon as they landed. `We're bypassing all security,' he told Tweed when they were all aboard. 'Explained you were SIS and pursuing a lead re. Terrorists. They phoned your Director, Howard, who confirmed it. Your transport is waiting in the parking lot.'

Tweed was soon behind the wheel of the Audi with Paula beside him. As they left the airport with the rest of the team in two Land Rovers he explained. `I've spoken to Newman. Being a top newspaper writer he knew where to go. I need urgently to check November and December 1912 issues of the Clarion. Newman said Peg-Leg Pete was the answer. Peg-Leg is an eccentric. Collects old copies for a song and charges outrageously for you to see them on his rotating screen. Bob phoned him to have the issues ready.'

It had been broad daylight, sun blazing, when they landed at Heathrow. From there Paula navigated and eventually they reached Watersend Lane, at the wrong end of the East End. In the quiet cobbled street they saw a dirty window with the name Peg-Leg Pete's just visible in fading gold lettering.

They followed Newman inside while the rest of the team took up guard outside. A short burly individual appeared, with a wooden leg which tapped as he walked with the aid of a stick. `Two hundred nicker,' he growled, hand held out. He glared at Tweed. 'Two 'undred pounds to your educated friend before you use the machine. Clarions you want to see all ready for viewing.' `No you don't, Peg-Leg,' Newman said roughly. `Back into your office while my friend checks that he has what he needs.'

Taking Peg-Leg gently by one arm Newman guided him inside a small room, shut the door. Tweed had seated himself in a chair before a large microfilm reader. He turned a lever, scanned the page, used the lever again, then once more. `Got it,' he said. He pointed to a paragraph with a headline.

MURDEROUS BANK ROBBERY

`Five copies of the whole paragraph, please.'

He waited while Paula used her non-flash camera. Then he put a finger on the date. Wednesday 7 November 1912.

When she had taken her photographs of the whole page he used the lever again. He found nothing until December issues appeared. Then he put his finger on another paragraph with a large headline. When she had her copies, automatically ejected from the camera, she knew what else he needed. She photographed the whole page with the date Thursday 12 December 1912. `That's more than two 'undred nicker,' Peg-Leg shouted after he emerged again from his office, stick and leg tapping madly. Newman produced an envelope with two hundred pounds in banknotes, shoved it into the top pocket of Peg-Leg's well-worn woollen jacket. `That's the fee you agreed, you old thief. So shut up. We're off.' `I don't understand,' Paula said after they had left London and the three-vehicle convoy was heading south. `You will,' Tweed assured her. 'Now it's full speed to the manor at Hengistbury and the solution of two horrible murders.' `I hope that's all that faces you,' Paula mused who had on many occasions shown a deadly intuition.

Driving through the tunnel created by the mighty firs which closed above them Paula again had the same eerie feeling she had experienced when they first arrived. Relieved when they reached the entrance, they only had to wait seconds before the tall wrought-iron gates swung open. `It's such a lovely day,' she remarked as Tweed drove to the foot of the steps, a remark she wished within minutes she'd never made. Behind them the other two vehicles drove round the back to park.

They ran up the steps and the left-hand door opened. Crystal was waiting to greet them instead of Lavinia. Like her half-sister she wore a white polo- necked sweater and a pleated white skirt. She stood very still, hands clasped in front of her. `Welcome back,' she greeted them with the shadow of a smile. 'I have grim news for you. I'm determined not to give way to my volatile temperament.' She paused. 'Leo has been murdered.' `We'll go into the library so you can sit down,' Tweed said, gently grasping her arm. `Not necessary. But thank you.'

Tweed was shocked but concealed it. Paula watched Crystal closely but there was no sign of her breaking down. She had a stronger character than Paula had realized. As they entered the hall Chief Inspector Hammer came forward, his tone surprisingly sympathetic as he spoke to Crystal. `I've kept my word. Let you tell Tweed what has happened. Now please, if you will, have a rest in the library while I have a private word with Mr Tweed'