He closed the gates once more when the Mercedes drew to a halt inside the grounds.
Halloran had been irritated by a simple procedure which had been dramatised into a ritual. He could only assume that an electronic device in the gate's lock had been triggered by whoever was inside the lodge; yet when driving through, he hadn't noticed any such mechanism.
'I take it there's someone inside . . .' he nodded towards the lodge-house '. . . capable of stopping any uninvited visitors from coming through?' Kline merely grinned.
Halloran was about to put the question again, more pointedly this time, when he heard the sound of a vehicle braking sharply on the road outside the grounds. He turned swiftly to see the other Shield car reverse back to the opening then turn in.
'Tell Monk to open the gate again,' he said.
'I'm afraid not.' Kline was shaking his head. 'You know the rules, Halloran.' There was a hint of glee in his voice, as though the psychic were enjoying the game now that he was safely home.
'Have it your way.' Halloran left the Mercedes and walked back to the gate, Monk grudgingly opening it a fraction to allow him out. The two Shield operatives waited for him beside the Granada.
'Nearly missed this place,' one of them said as he drew near.
Halloran nodded. 'No bad thing. How about the Peugeot, Eddy?' Clean away. No sign at all.
Halloran wasn't surprised. 'Response from Base?T 'As we figured. The car was stolen from Heathrow's shortterm carpark some time last night. As usual the owner had left his exit ticket inside.'
'Should we inform the Blues?' asked the other man, who had been keeping a wary eye on the road.
'That's for Snaith to decide, but I don't think our client would want the police involved at this stage. If things get serious, we might have to insist.' Both operatives grinned, aware of how much it would take to render a situation 'serious' as far as Halloran was concerned.
'D'you want us to check the grounds?' enquired Eddy, gesturing towards the gate.
Halloran shook his head. 'Off-limits for you two. Patrol the roads around here and keep an eye out for that Peugeot. You never know, they might chance their luck again later. I'll keep my RT with me at all times so you can warn me if you spot anything suspicious. From what I've seen so far this place is high-risk, so stay sharp. Be back here by the main gate in three hours so the next team can take over.'
'Body cover's a bit thin, isn't it?' the second operative remarked, never once allowing his observation of the main road to stray, 'particularly now we're sure the contract's positive.'
'We've no choice. It's how our target wants it. Maybe Snaith and Mather will convince him otherwise through the insurers, but 'til then, we do it as briefed. I'll be back here for changeover, so we'll compare notes then.' He turned away and the two operatives shrugged at each other. Halloran was never forthcoming with finer details, but they trusted his judgement implicitly; if he wanted the operation to proceed in this way, then they wouldn't argue. They climbed back into the Granada and reversed from the drive.
Once inside, the gate closed behind Halloran with a solid Chunk, leaving him with an absurd feeling that the estate had been sealed permanently. Monk glowered resentfully at him as he passed and he realised there were going to be problems between them. That was unfortunate; if outsiders had to be involved in an operation, Halloran preferred them at least to be dependable. Ignoring the big man, he went to the Mercedes, gunning the engine as soon as he was inside. Monk's leisurely stride became more brisk when he realised he might be left behind.
'How much of the perimeter does the wall cover?' Halloran asked as the bodyguard lumbered in beside him.
It was Cora who answered. 'Most of the estate's northerly border. Wire fencing and thick hedgerows protect the other aspects.' None of it was adequate, Halloran thought, but he said nothing. Before moving off, he looked past Monk towards the lodge once more, curious to catch a glimpse of whoever watched the gate from there. The windows could have been painted black so darkly opaque were they.
The car rolled into motion, crunching stones beneath its tyres, gathering moderate speed as it travelled along the winding road through the estate's woodland. The lodge-house shrunk into the distance, then was cut from view by the trees, and it was only at that point that Halloran was able to concentrate on the road ahead without constantly glancing into the rearview mirror.
He pressed a button and the window on his side slid down; the scent of trees wafted through as he inhaled deeply, relishing the air's sharpness, only then realising how cloying the atmosphere inside the vehicle had become; fear, and excitement, left their own subtle odours, neither one particularly pleasant.
The woodland itself was an untidy mix of oak, willow, beech and spruce, no species more dominant than another. Here they canopied the roadway, creating a gloomy tunnel, the air inside cool, almost dank.
Ferns stirred on either side, disturbed by the Mercedes' passage.
A sudden stab of colour ahead startled him. It was instantly gone, the angle of vision through the trees changed by the moving car. Then again, a flash of redness among the green shades. The route was curving gently, winding downwards into a small valley, and soon the house was in sight, a wide area of grass and then a placid blue lake spread before it, while wooded slopes framed its other sides. Those hills disturbed Halloran, for he realised it would be easy for intruders to slip unseen down through the trees to the very boundaries of the house itself.
His attention was irresistibly drawn back to the building itself, which appeared to be a curious jumble of irregular shapes. Principally Tudor in period, various sections had apparently been added on during its history with no regard for symmetry. The two gables were of unequal height and pitch, and the twisted chimneys were scattered almost inconsequently over the various roofs. There were different levels of turrets and a wing had been built onto the far side that stood higher than any other part of the building.
Yet the overall image was not unpleasing and much of that had to do with the rich colouring of its brickwork, for the walls fairly glowed in the sunlight, the aged stone mottled a warm red, that same redness even within the roof tiles; the gables were half-timbered and the many turrets fringed grey, serving to complement the ruddiness of the main walls.
Although the building as a whole was compact, Neath was nevertheless hugely impressive, its position alone, between the small hills and lake, supplying its own special grandeur. Halloran began to re-assess Kline's worth in terms of personal wealth.
They were moving on level ground again, the expanse of water on their right, the entrance porch to the house looming up on their left; across the lake Halloran could see the muted hills of Surrey. He drew the car to a halt outside the stone entrance, and just behind a white Rover, the porch itself jutting from the building, wide and dented pavings inside leading up to the main door. Both sections of that door were already opening; two robed figures appeared together, dashing forward with heads bowed. They ran to the Mercedes' rear door, one of them eagerly pulling it open for Kline.
The two Arabs bowed even more deeply when Kline stepped ,gut. 'Marhaba, Mouallem,' they welcomed.
Halloran heard one of them mutter something further as he, himself, climbed from the Mercedes, and he saw Kline smile, the glitter of his dark eyes containing some kind of satisfaction, but no warmth.
'Youssef meeneeh,' Kline said quietly.
Halloran opened the other rear door for Cora, while Monk walked around to the back of the car. The bodyguard caught the keys tossed by Halloran against his chest and opened the boot, reaching for the luggage inside. Cora seemed unsteady and Halloran gripped her arm.