Precipice

'We're down here investigating three weird murders my interest was triggered off by something odd which happened on the Continent.'

'Playing it close to the chest, as usual.' Franklin grinned at Paula. 'Getting blood out of a stone is a piece of cake compared with getting Tweed to open up.'

'You are muddling your metaphors,' Tweed pointed out.

He looked up as the proprietor appeared at the door and beckoned to him. Excusing himself, he joined the proprietor in the privacy of the hall. His host had a worried look, which was unusual.

'Sorry to interrupt your conversation, Mr Tweed, but a Chief Inspector Buchanan from Scotland Yard called here and asked me if Mr Robert Newman was staying with us. I had to say he was and this Buchanan wanted to know if he was in his room. I told him he'd gone out, that I didn't know where or for how long.'

The proprietor paused, clearly embarrassed. Tweed said nothing, gave no indication that he had heard of Newman.

'He then went on,' the proprietor continued, 'to ask me if a Mr Tweed was registered with us. I told him no -because at that moment you had not appeared. I saw no reason to tell him you had stayed with us before.'

'Thank you for telling me. We are just going out to keep an urgent appointment. And I have no idea when we'll be back.'

'I'm sorry to…'

'Think nothing of it.'

Tweed walked casually back into the lounge. Franklin was joking with Paula who looked very relaxed.

'I'm afraid we'll have to leave immediately,' Tweed told them. 'We may not be back until it's time for dinner.'

'Mind if I accompany you?' asked Franklin. 'But if it's hush-hush I'll steer clear.'

'You can come. You'll hear about what's been happening sooner or later. But I'd like us to move now…'

The wind seemed even more bitter as they crossed the cobbled yard outside and went to their cars. Franklin reached into his Jaguar, brought out a heavy fawn raincoat, which he donned. It had wide lapels and broad belt; Paula thought he looked very much a military type.

Tweed put on the new coat Paula had pushed him into buying but she felt quite comfortable in her windcheater.

'What is our destination?' Franklin called out.

'Just follow us.'

Tweed dived behind the wheel of his car, turned on the engine, and began backing at speed. He turned, headed for the small square which led into South Street.

'Where are we going, then?' Paula asked.

'Anywhere outside Wareham. Buchanan put in an appearance. Asked for Newman, then for me.'

'For you? That's strange.'

'He's very shrewd is our friend, Roy Buchanan. I think he was aiming a shot in the dark. Hang on, there's Bob coming back, with Philip in Eve Warner's Porsche on his tail. And Butler, dressed like a gangster, on a Fireblade behind them.'

Tweed pulled up in the Georgian square tucked away from South Street. Other cars were parked but no one else was about. Jumping out, Tweed ran over to Newman, who had braked.

'Don't ask any questions. Don't go near the Priory -just follow me. That's Bill Franklin in the Jaguar. He turned up unexpectedly and is coming with us. Wait a sec…'

He ran to the Porsche and Eve lowered her window. Tweed addressed Philip across her.

'Get out. Move. Then get into Bob's car.' He looked at Eve, studying Philip's new friend as Philip left to join Paula. She stared straight back at him. 'I assume you are Eve Warner,' he began, and she interrupted him.

'And how, may I ask, do you know about me? My name?'

'Newman mentioned you when he phoned me. I hope that you won't mind, but we are all going to a meeting.'

'Who are you to try and push me around?' she asked cockily.

'My name is Tweed.' he said reluctantly. She was going to find out anyway, staying at the Priory. 'I would appreciate it if you would wait at the Priory – Philip will be back later.'

'I don't feel like staying on my own.' she informed him. 'And we've had an adventure. You might like me to tell you what happened. ..'

'Later. Excuse me.'

Tweed, feeling like a grasshopper, ran across to Butler.

'Harry, follow us.'

'News to tell you. And Pete Nield is still probably at that roundabout you told us to send him to. Or Monica did…'

'We've got to get away from here.'

'OK. But Pete is wasting his time.'

'Then we'll drive there and you can tell him to drive back to watch the Priory again. He's to resume looking for Buchanan to arrive.'

Tweed tore back to his own car, jumped behind the wheel, took off, turned left into South Street, across the bridge over the Frome, and out into the country.

'You are fit.' Paula remarked. 'You weren't even puffing when you came back.'

'Probably my frequent walks from my flat in Radnor Walk and back again in the evening. This isn't good.' he said, glancing in his mirror.

'What isn't good?'

'We have a regular convoy – first me, then Bob, followed by Franklin. And would you believe it? The Warner girl is coming up behind him in her blasted Porsche. At least Butler is keeping well back. Imagine if we run into Buchanan driving in the opposite direction. He'll spot us, do a U-turn when he can, and come after us.'

'Then let's hope we don't see Buchanan.' Paula said calmly.

'Don't be too hard on Eve,' Philip called out from the back. 'She practically saved Bob's life, maybe my own, too.'

'Really? And I thought I told you to get into Newman's car.'

'You did. But I've a lot to tell you.'

'Tell me now. While the attractive Eve isn't bending an ear to our conversation…'

Philip, keeping his recital of events terse, began with their drive to Grenville Grange and what had happened afterwards. Tweed's expression didn't change when he came to the arrival of Leopold Brazil with his wolfhound, Igor.

'So Mr Brazil would like to meet me.' Tweed commented when Philip had concluded his description of their experience. 'Well, he will have to wait.'

'Why?' asked Paula.

'Because I need a lot more information about what he is up to.'

He slowed down, cruising. He had reached the roundabout south of Stoborough Green, had spotted Pete Nield parked in his Sierra, apparently reading a newspaper. Tweed continued cruising so Butler wouldn't lose them after instructing Nield.

Behind them Eve had been aware of the motorcyclist following the Jaguar behind her. The rider had kept his visor down so she couldn't see his face. She also missed seeing Pete Nield as she forced herself to drive like a snail behind Newman's car.

As soon as Butler caught them up Tweed increased speed. Reaching the junction below Corfe Castle and before entering the village he turned right onto a quiet country road signposted Church Knowle – Kimmeridge. He slowed down. At intervals along this road he knew there were isolated cottages and very little traffic. The sort of road where children ran out without looking.

'Where are we going now?' Paula asked.

'Didn't you see the signpost? Eventually it is a dead end if the firing range operated by the Army is being used for target practice. Mostly tanks. Kimmeridge is a tiny place near the edge of the sea. Buchanan certainly won't be using this road.'

He was almost crawling round sharp bends and then on into open country. To their right a range of the Purbecks climbed steeply in grassy slopes, hemming in the road, which was little more than a tree-lined lane.

Tweed was passing a house, back from the road with land in front of it, when he signalled, stopped the car.

'What is it?' Philip called out.

'Well, I'll be damned,' replied Tweed, who rarely swore even mildly. 'I'm sure that chap outside this house is Keith Kent, the money tracer. I'd no idea he had a place down here. Let's go and have a chat with him…'

Newman switched off his engine, got out, and stood, as Tweed went down the long path to meet him. He recognized Keith Kent too, despite the fact that previously he had only seen him immaculately garbed as a City gent. He frowned as he watched.