Tweed took out Newman's binoculars, which he had put in his own pocket. Cardon, who had been switching his gaze swiftly from the wheel-house to the powerboat, reached across, took the glasses from Tweed's hands. Like Newman, he had summed up the skipper as a man who did not easily lose his nerve.
Cardon focused the field-glasses on the powerboat, which had changed course, was now slantwise to them. Through the lenses he saw the sole occupant, a figure at the wheel. A bizarre figure wearing a skin-diver's helmet and goggles. No chance of ever identifying who was guiding the powerboat. Cardon shoved the glasses back in Tweed's lap with his left hand. Both of his hands dived inside the canvas satchel as Paula watched him.
The roar of the powerboat was deafening as it swept even closer. Paula clenched her fingers tight inside her gloves. They were going to be smashed to matchwood, capsized into water which would be icy in February. Nield calmly inserted a cigarette between his lips without lighting it.
'The skipper knows what he's doing,' Tweed told Paula, his mouth close to her ear.
'You could have fooled me,' she snapped back.
In the brief time before a shattering collision took place the skipper suddenly swung his wheel hard over to starboard – away from the powerboat's course. It was tricky timing. The huge prow of the monster seemed to Paula to loom over them like something out of the film Jaws. One of her hands was now clamped round the plank beneath her, waiting for the frightful impact.
There were inches between the two vessels as the powerboat skimmed past them on the port side. And as it did so Cardon lobbed the grenade he had withdrawn the pin from. It landed in the well behind the hooded figure. Cardon immediately began counting silently, mouthing the numbers clearly as he stared at Paula.
'One… '
Two… '
'Three… '
'Four…'
On 'Four' something made Paula swivel round to the stern of the ferry which was now rocking madly under the impact of the wash from the powerboat. Tweed was already staring with the others in the same direction.
The explosion was thunderous. One second the powerboat was swinging round in a half-circle, ready to come back towards its target. The next second, as the detonation rang out, it split in two – the prow shooting skywards. Paula stared as a gigantic column of water like the geyser in Yellowstone Park soared up, taking with it dark objects which were debris from the shattered wreck.
The water boiled briefly where the powerboat had died, then it became calm with the surface ruffled only by ripples. Tweed was confident neither of the crew had seen Cardon lob the grenade, so intent had they been on steering the ferry clear of disaster at the last moment. The skipper handed over the wheel to his mate and his first words as he came out of the wheel-house confirmed Tweed's assumption.
'Sorry for that, folks. We've 'ad similar fools in the past. Think it's fun to scare the 'ell out of my passengers. But I don't know what that was. And then 'is petrol blew. That's 'appened before, too. Young idiots buys these expensive fast boats – must be fast for 'em – and then 'asn't the money to keep up any maintenance. I'm givin' you all your money back…'
'You most certainly are doing nothing of the sort,' Tweed said forcefully. 'Only one pound each for the return trip to Rock – and you saved our lives by your expert seamanship.'
'Anything that keeps you 'appy.' The skipper frowned. 'Never seen quite so big an explosion when petrol tank goes. Still, was a big boat. Now, we're landin' in a moment…'
11
They landed from the ferry by the same method – walking down the plank while the mate stood alongside, ready to give anyone who needed it a hand. Paula had no hesitation in reaching out for her hand to be grasped – her legs felt like jelly after their recent experience.
'See that stick with the flag stuck in beach?' called out the skipper. 'When you want to come back wait wherever it's been moved to. Tide will start to come in in the next hour…'
Tweed had walked down the plank, again ignoring the hand offered. His feet immediately sank into the sand which had recently been covered with water. Ploughing his way up to a ramp leading off the beach was like walking on a giant sponge. Paula and Newman caught him up as the other three men followed at a distance, spreading out, their eyes everywhere.
'You look smug,' Paula accused Tweed.
'Sorry. Just satisfied that my instinct was right.'
'What instinct?' Newman demanded.
That the enemy had now tracked us to Padstow.'
'Anything to back that up?' Newman continued. 'You're always so keen on data to back up a theory.'
'Last night I couldn't sleep. As you know, my bedroom window gives a panoramic view of the estuary and this shore. You remember, Bob, you lent me your binoculars.'
'You saw something, then?'
'Oh, yes, I saw something.' Tweed chuckled, outwardly unaffected that they had just escaped sudden death. 'I saw something. Switching off the lights, I pulled back the curtains. Soon I saw a lamp flashing on and off over here. Red, then green, then red. Morse code – but the message was in cipher, if you understand me. A stream of meaningless letters, so I couldn't read what they were sending. But I could guess.'
'And you guessed what?' Paula pressed.
'That the sender in Rock was informing someone in Padstow that we have arrived at the Metropole. That was the first stage of targeting us.'
'And the second stage?'
'That was the lamp flashing which I noticed from the cove while we waited for the ferry. It was probably signalling to that powerboat cruising out at sea just beyond the estuary – that we'd be aboard the ferry.'
'Sounds thin,' Newman objected. 'It presupposes someone was watching the ferry for hours. We might never have come here.'
'So maybe they were watching the inner harbour through binoculars from Rock. These people leave nothing to chance. After we left perhaps a certain pennant was hoisted up the mast of that cabin cruiser, Mayflower III. Remember who suggested we take that ferry?'
'Gaunt!' Newman grated out the name. 'He waits until he's persuaded us to cross to Rock and then hoists the signal which tells whoever is waiting over here, wherever that might be.'
'Oh, last night through your binoculars I pinpointed the source where the lamp was flashing from.'
The shore of Rock was deserted and there was an atmosphere of being cut off from the world which Paula found disturbing. Tweed led the way off the soggy beach up a ramp which started out as concrete and then became wooden ribbed. He turned left, away from the few buildings which were Rock. They entered a desolate quarry which was apparently used as a car park during the season. Not a single vehicle was parked in the grim amphitheatre enclosed by granite walls.
'Don't point or look at it obviously,' Tweed warned. 'I saw the lamp flashing last night from that strange house perched on its own above us. From the first-floor window on the right.'
Paula glanced round as though taking in the view. Strange was hardly the word for the house. Weird, she said to herself. Isolated well up the steep slope it had a Victorian appearance but gave the impression half of it had been sliced off and taken away at some distant time.
Tall and thin, built of the universal grey stone, it had a single high gable with a turret below it at one corner. The building had a derelict appearance and Paula thought she'd never seen a more sinister house. Like something out of Hitchcock's Psycho.