By Stealth (11 page)

`Should we be going down here?' Paula asked. 'I think this is probably only for use by people who own a boat.'

`Then we own a boat,' Newman rapped back.
Seahorse IV
, if anyone wants to know. And in my rear-view mirror I see Pete Nield is catching us up. I wonder what glad tidings he brings?'

Half-way down a steep descent the anchorage came into view. The sun was shining and the basin of blue water sparkled like diamonds. It was more like a small lake but towards the Solent the river ran out between tree- shrouded banks. To the north, where it came from Beaulieu, it curved in an S-bend. Newman stopped, turned off the engine. 'I'll wait for Pete...'

Tweed, followed by Paula, got out of the car to stretch his legs. On the river deserted yachts and power cruisers, covered with blue plastic sheeting for winter, were moored to buoys. The view was scenic but there was no sign of activity. End of the season. Nield parked his Sierra behind the Mercedes, jumped out.

Paula, who had been wandering about, looking down at the anchorage, began walking back to Tweed.

`Come on, Pete,' she said crisply. 'I'm not a schoolgirl any more. Let me hear the grisly details.'

`They are grisly. The concrete mixer is still there — jammed between two trees. So are the police who told me the road was closed. They'd erected a sheet round the vehicle but a breeze blew it up. The driver who tried to kill you is set solid in concrete. They're having to use pneumatic drills to remove his unwanted overcoat.'

`Better him than you,' Newman commented. 'What next?'

`Paula and I will borrow your Merc. You and Pete take the Sierra down and we'll follow. Try and hire a boat to take us downriver,' Tweed suggested.

`We're on our way …'

Tweed parked the Mercedes behind the river front and under the lee of a large yacht propped upright by heavy wooden staves on either side. It shielded the car from easy sighting.

`Why are we hiding?' Paula asked.

`A Mercedes would be noticed. I'm curious about that vintage Bentley which overtook us. And that chopper I saw landing close to the river. I smell danger.'

`From what quarter?'

`I've no idea. But we crawled past Andover's house. The thugs who broke in may have returned and seen us through the shrubbery.'

`Won't the police be there after your phone call?' she queried. 'Although I didn't see a patrol car.'

`They'll have been and gone hours ago. To them it will be just another break-in. Andover probably wasn't there to inform. They'd get their pet builder to board up the front door and leave it at that.'

`Anyone else?'

`We also crawled past both Burgoyne's and Fanshawe's residences. Either could have spotted us, decided to follow to see what we're up to. And someone is going to drastic lengths to stop us, as we know from last night.'

`You're trying to smoke out whoever it is,' Paula stated.

`I would like to know the identity of the enemy. There is one — I know that from reading Andover's file and Gaston Delvaux's letter to him from Liège.'

`And you're not going to tell me anything about either?'

`Not yet.'

They had been walking down a dried mud track scattered with gravel as they talked. When they came round the corner of a clump of trees and undergrowth the track led on to a walk along the river's edge. Newman was hurrying towards them with another man in his mid- thirties.

Tall and slim, the stranger walked with an athletic stride, was well built, clean shaven, and had an aquiline nose. He wore denims and trainers. Paula was relieved by his working clothes, his pea-jacket. She was clad in denims thrust inside knee-length gumboots and a padded windcheater.

`He's good looking,' she whispered to Tweed, 'and he knows it.'

`A piece of luck,' Newman called out as the two men came close. 'This is an old acquaintance of mine. Mordaunt, freelance journalist. He's agreed to take us for a spin on the river.'

Tweed made introductions, using first names only, omitting to mention himself. Mordaunt made a beeline for Paula, holding out a large strong hand. His voice was upper crust.

`I say the day is improving no end. Welcome to Buckler's Hard, Paula. I've just been putting my boat to bed. A small yacht. Spend as much time down here as I can during the spring—summer. Have a small pad in London. All my money, such as it is, goes on the boat. They're expensive things, boats.'

`Can I have my hand back?' Paula asked with a dry smile.

`Sorry. Didn't mean to offend. It's such a small, shapely hand. Can't really blame me. Now, for the river trip. I've got a large dinghy with an outboard I borrowed. No charge — glad to be of service. This way...'

`Isn't there a more stable boat available?' Tweed enquired.

`I'm afraid not. Not to worry. Water is as smooth as silk. Hardly a ripple. You'll enjoy it.'

As he walked off with Newman Paula noticed his thick, dark hair was blow-dried. An odd mix of the matinee-idol type and a practical man of action. She glanced at Tweed, who was following reluctantly.

`You did take your Dramamine back at the hotel,' she reminded him. 'And we're not going out to sea.'

`Heaven forbid. Water always moves and anything on it moves even more. I suppose I shall survive.'

`You can hold my hand,' Paula teased him. 'Lucky this Mordaunt being here.'

`Or department of strange coincidence …'

Tweed was following the others across a catwalk leading to the main landing stage. Behind him was a long single-storey building which was a combined shop full of tourist-memento rubbish together with the kiosk where tickets were sold for the catamaran cruise. Everything was shut until the next season in spring.

Paula was suddenly aware Tweed had paused. He was staring to the north where, onshore, was a large collection of vessels of various sizes drawn up on land. He had caught sight of a man's figure disappearing behind the hull of a large yacht.

`Something wrong?' Paula asked.

`I thought I recognized someone up there. Forget it — don't mention it to the others.'

Mordaunt had donned a sailor's peaked cap which he perched on his head at a rakish angle. He stood by a large dinghy inside which Newman and Nield had sat down near the stern. This compelled Tweed and Paula to occupy the seat near the prow, hardly his favourite position for such an enterprise.

`All aboard now?' Mordaunt called out in his confident manner. 'Ready for the Skylark cruise, everyone? But where to? Any preference.'

`What I can do without,' Tweed whispered, 'is the hearty nautical touch.'

`We'd like to visit Moor's Landing,' Newman told their host as Mordaunt released the mooring ropes, jumped aboard, and sat down by the tiller.

`You won't be popular there,' Mordaunt warned. `They're a very standoffish lot. Don't mix with pleb types like us. Could even be a hostile reception.'

`We'll risk it,' Newman said firmly.

Mordaunt started the engine. Tweed gritted his teeth as the dinghy wobbled and was steered out into the main channel. There was no wind but it was cold as Siberia on the river. Tweed began to study his surroundings as they moved downriver.

`Damn! I hope he didn't see me.'

Brigadier Maurice Burgoyne stood behind the beached hull of the yacht, a pair of glasses looped round his neck. He was positioned in the boatyard and near by was a large lifting machine used to transport beached vessels into the water. The blonde Lee Holmes looked at him with a quirky smile. •

`You hope who didn't see you?'

`Tweed, I think. He stared towards me when he was on the catwalk. I'll just check..

Burgoyne was wearing a leather jacket and cavalry twill trousers. The vintage Bentley was concealed inside a shed, his helmet and goggles on the driving seat. He shinned up a ladder perched against the hull, raised his glasses.

The dinghy was moving away from the landing stage. He recognized Tweed crouched at the prow as he turned to say something to the girl next to him. Paula Grey. He climbed rapidly back down the ladder.

`I was right. It is Tweed. And his female sidekick, Paula Grey. This is dangerous. They could ruin everything. We have to find out where they're headed for.'

`How?'

`Do I have to think up all the tactics? Take the small dinghy, follow them.'

`They could recognize me,' she warned him.

`Heavens above!' he snapped. 'Disguise yourself. You have those dark glasses. Put them on.'

`Dark glasses now? In winter? I know the sun is shining. No, it was. They'll just draw attention to me.'

`
Put them on!
Girls wear dark glasses any time. They think it makes them look sexy. Get after those people, Lee. I want to know what they're up to. Quick march.'

Lee moved fast. She twisted her long blonde hair and tied it with a bow at the back. Taking a silk scarf out of her capacious hold-all, she wrapped it round her head so it totally concealed her hair. She put on the dark glasses, ran down to the water's edge, and climbed into the small dinghy. A minute later she was purring across the water in pursuit.

*
   
*
   
*

As soon as their large dinghy had left the landing stage the sun went in and a sold grey mass of low clouds dimmed the light. Despite his dislike of the motion, Tweed was looking all round and not happy about what he saw.

There was not a straight stretch of water resembling a river in sight. From east bank to west the water was cluttered with grassy islands and it was not apparent where the main channel led its devious way south towards the open sea. Paula shivered.

`Creepy atmosphere,' she whispered.

'It could be more stimulating,' Tweed agreed.

Mordaunt seemed to know what he was doing as he guided the dinghy among the islands and out into a clearer channel. But as they moved south down what was obviously the Beaulieu River the brooding sensation increased.

Round a bend, they left Buckler's Hard behind, and when Paula glanced back the anchorage had vanished. They had left all relics of civilization behind. On both sides mushy green flats, an almost sinister acid-green colour, spread out towards the main channel as though trying to strangle it. The flats were interlaced with murky-looking creeks. Even the main river was a sullen green colour.

`This is getting claustrophobic,' Paula said. 'I feel it's all closing in on us.'

There was something in what she'd said, Tweed thought. Beyond the treacherous-looking fiats rose the dense jungle of the forest, a tangle of firs and oaks crammed on top of each other. They passed a landing stage and beyond it he caught sight of a Tudor house, buried in the foliage, smoke rising vertically from one chimney. Here and there on the river a lonely yacht was tied up to a buoy. No one aboard. They began to sweep round a wide bend. The sun came out through a hole in the grey overcast, a brief shaft. Tweed looked quickly to his right. The sun had flashed off something in the undergrowth. Were they being watched through field glasses? And this was the point where he'd calculated the chopper had descended. Then the sun went in. Paula glanced back, stiffened.

`There's another dinghy — a smaller one — coming up behind us. I think there's a woman aboard it.'

`Out for a spot of fresh air, I expect. And it's arctic fresh.'

They passed several other landing stages, some of which looked derelict. Then Mordaunt called out: 'There we are. That landing stage ahead of us. That's the one for Moor's Landing. Are you sure you want to go ashore? Private property.'

`A whole village?' Newman snorted. 'Ridiculous.' `Don't say I didn't warn you...'

He steered the dinghy away from the main channel to a very long landing stage. Freshly painted, railed, the planks seemed to have been renewed. A prominent notice carried the message: INTRUDERS TRESPASS HERE AT THEIR PERIL. PRIVATE. Mordaunt steered the dinghy to the steps. Nield was the first to jump out. As he climbed the steps he appeared to slip, grabbed at the notice board, wrenched it savagely. It came loose and Nield shrugged as he watched it floating off and vanishing inside a creek amid the acid-green marsh.

`Accidents will happen,' Nield remarked, brushing off his gloved hands.

Accident my foot, Paula thought. You destroyed the board deliberately. And then made your flip remark for the benefit of Mordaunt. She was about to disembark nimbly when someone gripped her arm to steady her balance.