Precipice

'To change the subject, do you know anything about a Leopold Brazil?'

Another pause, a long one. Tweed, I've been warned off making any enquiries about him.'

'I don't believe it. Nobody warns you off. Who are you talking about?'

'That I can't tell you. Damn it, no one pushes me up against the wall. He has an expensive villa along the lake in Zurich. Between you and me I am watching discreetly. Very discreetly. Something strange about that man with all his power. I'll tell you he flew off in his private jet from Kloten, Zurich, on his way to Paris.'

'What kind of a jet?'

'Well, here's the tricky part. He has two private jets, both Lears. One has Brazil SA, the name of his Swiss company, in huge letters along the fuselage. The other, painted white, has no markings identifying that it belongs to him. He uses the white jet to confuse watchers whether he's aboard or not. Both have aircrews standing in rotas twenty-four hours round the clock. It was the white job which flew to Charles de Gaulle. That's it.'

Tweed put down the phone. His concentration on what Beck had told him was so great he hadn't noticed Monica was holding her phone, staring at him impatiently.

'Lasalle is back on the line from Paris. He's asked me twice to make sure you're on scrambler.'

'I still am,' Tweed said, and picked up the phone again. 'Sorry to keep you hanging on.'he said into the mouthpiece.

'I told you I was warned off investigating Leopold Brazil. Which is why I omitted to tell you he flew in yesterday from Zurich. A limo with tinted windows met him and drove him to his villa in the Avenue Foch. One of my best men identified him as he left the limo.'

'So why tell me now.'

'Because I'm sure now he's on his way to Britain within the next two hours.'

Tweed half-closed his eyes. Paula noted the mannerism, which told her he was tense.

'How do you know that?'

'The pilot of his white Lear jet just filed a flight plan for two hours hence.'

'To where?'

'Bournemouth International Airport. In Dorset…'

Tweed thanked Lasalle briefly, jumped up from his desk, ran to a cupboard, hauled out two cases kept packed for emergency departures – one for himself, the other for Paula.

'We'll take the Ford Escort,' he snapped. 'I'll drive. You'd better bring your Browning automatic. Monica, phone the Priory Hotel. Book us each a room. Indefinite stay. You can reach me there, but wrap up any message.'

'What's the emergency?' Paula asked.

She had already opened a locked drawer, taken out her Browning. 32 automatic, slipped it into the special pocket sewn into her shoulder bag which gave her instant access to the weapon. Tweed was studying the map of Dorset on the wall.

'Monica,' he rapped out before she could dial, 'if Newman phones tell him to post one man at the roundabout just south of Stoborough Green. Not Stoborough. Stoborough Green. I want another man posted to watch the ferry across the exit from Poole Harbour. Both are watching for a limousine with tinted-glass windows. If either man spots it they are to follow it with caution. My guess is it will be headed for Grenville Grange, in the Purbecks near Lyman's Tout. Leave you in charge…'

Paula caught him up as he jumped in behind the wheel of the Ford Escort parked outside as she slid into the front passenger seat.

'What is the emergency?' she repeated.

'Leopold Brazil is headed our way – flying within two hours from Paris to Bournemouth International Airport.' He was already driving towards Baker Street as Paula fastened her seat belt. 'From Bournemouth International he has to drive by one of only two routes – and we'll have watchers checking. Which means we should beat him to Wareham.'

'What is happening? Everything has suddenly moved.'

'I think Dorset is about to explode…'

6

'It's no good.' Newman said as he drove up the steep, winding hill to Kingston, leaving Corfe behind. 'Your Eve Warner is a damned good driver and I'm not going to lose her.' He checked his rear-view mirror. 'She's just come round that snaky bend like a pro at Brand's Hatch.'

'In that case.' Marler drawled from his curled-up position on the rear floor, 'my hiding is a waste of time. Warn me when you come to another bend and I'll get up, perch in a corner. When she sees me she may think I was sitting like that all the time.'

'Then get ready… Now!'

Newman had accelerated suddenly, swinging round a dangerous curve. In the back Marler scrambled up, settled himself in a corner of the seat, eased the ache out of his legs.

'Perfect! She didn't see you.' Newman reported.

'I still think we ought to have come in my four-wheel-drive.' Philip protested.

'And you'd have risked running into Buchanan if you'd tried to collect it from outside the Priory.'

'Your Merc will never make it along that track across Lyman's Tout.'

'Who said we were going to try?' Newman enquired.

'Then where the devil are we going?'

'Straight to Grenville Grange, residence of a certain Mr Leopold Brazil.'

'Asking for trouble…'

' "L'audace, toujours I'audace," as Danton once said, or something like that. I checked the map. We turn out of Kingston here to reach the entrance to his drive.'

'And when we're challenged by a posse of guards?'

'I bluff our way in. You seem to have forgotten that once I was a foreign correspondent.' Newman said jauntily. 'In that game you learn to get in anywhere.'

'Prepare for battle.' Marler commented.

The entrance to Grenville Grange appeared suddenly off a lonely road on the heights of the Purbecks. Two massive wrought-iron gates were thrown back and an open pebble drive stretched beyond them. Philip saw the dark hulk of Grenville Grange half a mile beyond. No sign of any guards, no sign of life.

'Stop the car a minute if you're going in there.' Philip said.

'All right. But why?' asked Newman, pulling up.

I want to go back and persuade Eve to wait for us back down the road. You heard what Marler said.'

'Good idea. She'll only get in the way. I'd been thinking about that same problem myself…'

Eve had stopped her Porsche a dozen yards behind them, behind the high grey stone wall which bordered the road. She raised her dark eyebrows as Philip approached and flashed him her inviting smile.

'I'll bet Bob Newman could horsewhip me. Tell him it's a free country.'

'Eve.' Philip perched his elbows on the edge of her open window. This could be very tricky. Dangerous, even…'

'But you'll protect me, won't you? If it came to a pinch I think even Bob would come to my aid. Who is the chap in the back? Haven't seen him before, have I?'

'Eve, I'm asking you to reverse the way we came. We'll come back for you.'

'Bet you will.' she said sarcastically. Tell Newman I'll be on his tail. I'm bloody stubborn.'

'You are,' snapped Philip.

'Now don't lose your temper.'

Philip shrugged, hurried back to Newman, climbed in beside him.

'She's not having any.' Newman remarked.

'I couldn't persuade her. How could you tell?'

'Her expression. Yours. Now what's she up to? She's running towards us. I suppose I'd better try and make her see sense.'

Eve poked her head in at Newman's window. She looked back at Marler.

'Hello, nice man. Who are you? Maybe you'd buy me a drink soon. My favourite tipple is vodka.'

'Go home.' said Newman.

Eve lit a fresh cigarette from the one she had been smoking. She blew out smoke, away from Newman's face. Her manner became serious.

'Bob, I could be useful. I have cat's eyes.'

'And cat's claws no doubt.'

'I'll pretend I didn't hear that. Are you calling at this place or just checking on it? If the latter, you see where the drive forks, one bit going up to the big terrace entrance, the other section curving round the back of this architectural masterpiece? That second fork would take you round the back and then away from Bleak House down a slope to the sea. Near the cliff's edge – and you'd better watch that – it curves round the end of a drystone wall on to Lyman's Tout.'