Precipice

'I call him Uncle Bill…'

Paula jumped out of the car as a tall man climbed out from behind the wheel of the Jaguar. She ran across and hugged him.

'I've been following you, Tweed.' Franklin said over her shoulder.

Franklin was a well-built man in his forties without a trace of fat on him. He was constantly smiling, and was clean-shaven with a strong jaw and a quizzical expression. He hugged Paula, released her from his embrace.

'Such a warm welcome on a day like this. Are you and Tweed having a rare holiday? You could both do with one.'

He gave her an infectious grin. Franklin spoke slowly with a public school accent that came naturally to him. His movements were slow, giving the impression of a lazy man who never hurried. Paula knew that in his quiet way he was very active. She had always been fond of him.

'So, you've been following us,' Tweed said with mock severity. 'May I ask why?'

'You just did.' Franklin smiled warmly. 'I've been busy. For a change. Decided to take a few days off. I was driving around looking for a decent hotel and spotted you passing me at a side turning. I said to myself, I'm in need of some good company and there it is. You could have knocked me down with the proverbial feather when I saw Paula with you.'

'Well, the Priory here is a very good hotel,' Tweed replied. 'Why not stay here? When I have a minute we can talk over old times.'

'Great idea. Let me…' He took Paula's bag off her. She remembered he was always courteous and kind. Inside reception they registered and the three of them were given rooms in the main hotel.

'Tell you what.' Franklin suggested, after registering, 'why don't we dump our bags in our rooms and meet up in the lounge? I could do with a cup of coffee.'

'Black and strong as sin, you used to say,' Paula reminded him.

'Did I? But I remember you have total recall for conversations.' He smiled his slow smile again. 'So I will have to be careful what I say to you. It's a bit early in the day for me to compromise myself.'

'When you two have stopped flirting…' Tweed interjected. 'And yes, Bill, we'll meet up in the lounge. Say in five minutes?'

Well beyond Kingston Butler slowed down, stopped his Fireblade. Some distance ahead of him the cavalcade -outriders and limousine – was entering a drive between high drystone walls. As it disappeared he eased his machine forward slowly – just in time to see huge wrought-iron gates closing slowly. No sign of anyone shutting them, so he guessed they were automatically operated by remote control.

Parking his machine on a grass verge, he walked slowly up to the gates, then quickened his pace. As he passed them he saw the limousine pulling up at the end of a long curving drive beyond where it forked. He stopped, bent down as though to adjust his footwear.

The outriders gathered round the limo. A large door in the grim dark house perched on a terrace was opened. A tall man he couldn't see clearly emerged from the rear of the limo, hurried agilely up the steps, disappeared inside the house, followed by the outriders who had parked their machines and removed their helmets. They tucked them under their arms and followed the tall figure like a military escort. The door closed.

Now the gates were closed he read the two words inscribed in gold, one on each gate. Grenville Grange.

'I guessed right.' he said to himself. 'They don't seem to have noticed they have one man missing. Or maybe his job is to stand sentinel outside. I'll wait awhile and see if anything more happens, then report to Newman…'

Newman, cold and stiff from lying on the ground at the end of the wall, raised his binoculars again. At the point where the drive curved he had a glimpse of the main drive coming up from the gates, had seen the cavalcade arrive.

'Go and tell Marler to hide in the back of my Merc,' he told Philip, who was lying alongside him. 'Tell Eve to get behind the wheel of her Porsche. Warn them both we may have to be ready for instant take-off down that track over Lyman's Tout. Order Eve that she is to come behind me. No arguments from her. Our lives may be at stake.'

'Will do…'

Newman waited a few more minutes, then raised his binoculars again. A terrace ran the full length of the back of the house and double doors had opened near a flight of steps.

A tall well-padded man with greying hair appeared. He was holding a huge dog on a leash, some kind of ferocious-looking wolfhound which tugged at the leash and then stood for a moment, sniffing the air.

'Damn!' Newman muttered. 'The wind's behind me and that nasty-looking beast may pick up our scent.'

'Horrible brute,' replied Philip, who had returned and dropped to the ground next to Newman. 'Imposing sort of chap. Oh, Lord, he's coming this way.'

The figure with the dog had descended the steps and was beginning to walk with brisk strides down the track where earlier Newman had driven towards the cliff edge.

As he drew closer Newman let his binoculars drop so they were looped round his neck and stared in disbelief.

'It can't be.' he said. 'We might as well stand up. He's going to see us.'

Despite the raw wind, the low temperature, the man coming towards them wore an expensive-looking midnight-blue suit, a white shirt, and a pale grey tie. His large head was held erect, his complexion was ruddy, his features were strong with a Roman nose and a wide mouth above a firm jaw. He walked with an air of complete self-assurance and had a commanding presence. He was very close when he left the track and stood on a large flat rock, the dog straining at the leash.

'Heel, Igor,' the tall man ordered.

The dog immediately sat beside its master, its mouth open, teeth showing, gazing at Newman as though it hoped it was suppertime.

'Mr Robert Newman, I presume,' the tall man remarked. 'I think as Stanley said to Livingstone, or was it the other way round?'

'One or the other.' Newman replied calmly. 'And you are right. Robert Newman.'

'Welcome to Grenville Grange. I am Leopold Brazil.'

8

Newman studied the large man before reacting: an aura of power seemed to emanate from him as he stood calmly, steady as the rock beneath him, with the full blast of the wind battering him. He had startlingly blue eyes and Newman realized he was in the presence of a most unusual and forceful personality.

'I once tried to interview you.' Newman recalled.

'Indeed you did.' The ghost of a smile crossed Brazil's face. 'I rarely give interviews but now that I have met you I almost wish I had granted your request. Have you seen a minion of mine, a certain Carson Craig?'

'Yes. He's tied up behind the wall. He made a mistake. He threatened me with a shotgun.'

'Oh 7 Lord.' Brazil sighed. 'Actually he is one of my most able deputies. A brilliant administrator, but he has an evil temper. I am constantly telling him that he must control it. Could your friend beside you kindly release him and I will send him back to the house.'

'Do it.' Newman said quietly to Philip.

'I also observe you have two cars with you, one with a woman behind the wheel…'

Newman then realized that from his vantage point on the rock Brazil could see the vehicles over the top of the wall. He glanced at the Porsche. Eve, seated behind her wheel, had wrapped a scarf round her head and was now wearing tinted glasses.

'I trust you were not thinking of driving back down the track along Lyman's Tout.' Brazil continued in his amiable tone. 'I see they are pointed that way. It is a dangerous route. I urge you to return the way you used to come here – along my drive. The gates are shut but I will order Craig to open them for you.'

'I'm not sure that route might not be more dangerous.' Newman told him bluntly.

'Ah, a man of my own heart. Cautious, taking no chances unless compelled to.' Brazil chuckled. 'Mr Newman, I will sit with you in the front passenger seat and escort you to the road. We have to give Craig time to reach the house and operate the automatic gates.'