No Mercy (30 page)

'Aubrey's lying about Lee and America,' she said.

'Someone
is lying,' Tweed responded.

'Then you'll have to decide which one of us is. Is he handling funeral arrangements?'

'I don't think so.'

'Then I'll take care of them. Where is poor Lee now?'

Tweed took one of Professor Saafeld's cards from his
breast pocket, handed it to her. 'Quote my name. That
gentleman should know. Does Aubrey travel much? I'm thinking about, say, three to four months ago.'

'Yes, on any excuse. And during the period you mention he
was in the States, apparently checking costs with suppliers.'

'And you were away during that time?'

'I think so. Yes, I was - also in the States. I like to keep up with any new security developments. The Americans can be
very good - and very bad - with new ideas. Can I go soon?
I should be at the plant.'

'Yes. I'm sorry to have to tell you about Lee. Thank you for your patience,' Tweed said, standing up.

'Drink some more water before you drive,' Paula advised.
'In case you're stopped by the police.'

'What do you think?' Paula asked as they descended in the
elevator.

'The most significant item was how she so easily handled
Gallagher, a very large and tough individual.'

'And just before we arrived at Lucinda's apartment you
said you're looking for someone capable of grabbing a man -
or a woman - from behind and murdering them. Makes me
wonder,' Paula mused.

Her mobile rang as they approached the underground
garage. Tweed unlocked the car and settled himself behind
the wheel and waited for Paula to join him.

'Next on my programme of interrogation is Larry Voles,' said Tweed. 'I know we've only recently interviewed him, but I know a lot more now.'

'Wait . . .' Paula laid a hand on his as he reached for the
gear lever. 'That call was from Monica. Keith Kent has
arrived at Park Crescent and wants to see you urgently.'

'Then we'd better first head back to the office.'

Kent was seated when they walked in, a slim leather folder in his lap with a blue folder on top of it. Smartly dressed in
a business suit, he started to stand up when he saw Paula. She put a hand on his shoulder, pressed him back into the
chair.

'Don't stand on ceremony for me, Keith. You're always so
polite.'

'Have you got anywhere with those balance-sheet figures?'
demanded Tweed. 'I'm convinced now that the motive for
these ghastly murders is money and power. Christine Barton
may have found something vital.'

Kent stood up as Tweed sat behind his desk, and spread
out in front of him several sheets. Most contained figures but
two sheets were Kent's typed report. He smiled.

'Funny you should say that. I've cracked Christine's code. According to Christine's calculations Gantia is worth two to
three billion - and Drago owns it outright. But four hundred million has gone missing.'

'Four hundred million!' Paula gasped. 'You do mean four
hundred million pounds?'

'Exactly. A huge amount by any millionaire's standard.'

'How was it done?' Tweed asked, his eyes gleaming. 'Can
you tell me that? Where did it come from?'

'Gantia's enormous reserves of money. I do know this huge
sum was transmitted to a shell company called Livingston,
Antilles, Cockcroft and Keyforf - LACK for short.
Somebody secretly bought LACK - which was worth
nothing, then sent the money to it. Shortly after the money
was in LACK it was withdrawn by electronic transmission and
vanished. You have to use a reference and it was AB200017
X. I can't identify whose is that reference number.'

'When did all this happen?' Tweed asked quickly.

'The dates are a bit muddled, but it was quite some time
ago.'

'And the murders of four people took place about three to
four months ago, according to Saafeld.' Tweed had jumped
up, was pacing restlessly. 'And who was murdered? Christine
Barton, forensic accountant who produced the figures
you've just deciphered, Keith. She was hired by someone suspicious that something was terribly wrong . . .'

'Drago Volkanian, who was abroad?' Paula suggested.

'Very likely. Then the detective, John Jackson, is hired by her sister, Anne Barton, to find her. The detective is murdered. And then Lee Greystoke, whom I think Drago trusted, starts ferreting around late at night at the Gantia
plant. She is also foully murdered. It's beginning to form a
pattern.'

'What's a shell company?' Paula asked.

'It's a company,' Kent explained, 'which has gone bust or
out of business. You can buy one cheaply. Financiers do it to
start up a new enterprise. Incidentally, those sheets -' he
pointed to them on Tweed's desk '- that Paula found hidden
in Christine's flat are original. I don't think they were ever
sent to whoever hired hen'

'Drago,' Paula repeated.

'I think you might be right,' Tweed agreed.

'So what do we do now?' she asked.

'I'm recalling that abandoned landing stage we saw deep in the clear water off the He des Oiseaux.'

'Now I'm confused,' Paula protested.

'That makes one of us.'

'Thanks a lot,' she snapped.

'We have to narrow it down to certain suspects.' Tweed
was still pacing like a caged tiger. 'We need to locate anyone
with accountancy knowledge who could have worked this
trick.'

'Unless two people were working together,' Paula told
him. 'The killer and the accountancy person. Once the
scheme is pulled off the killer then murders his collaborator.'

'That is a remote possibility. We
have
to identify who
needed
four hundred million pounds urgently. For a while
now I've sensed the killer was in a desperate state -
someone who had to eliminate anyone who might expose the motive.'

Kent checked his watch, stood up. 'I've done all I can and
concentrating on this has put me behind work from regular clients. I'll send you my bill.'

'Do that,' said Tweed.

'It'll be a hefty bill. I've worked through nights on it.'

'Congratulations on pulling it off, Keith. It will be worth
every penny.'

'Pennies won't come into my fee,' Kent said. He went over
to Paula, kissed and hugged her. 'You have my sympathy -I can tell Tweed is in a relentless hunting mood.'

'So,' an exasperated Paula said once more, 'what do we do
now?'

'Drive down to Gantia. I need more information from
Larry.'

'If I could get a word in now,' Monica said, 'before you
rush off I had a phone call from Professor Saafeld. He wants
to give some data to you personally. He said it could be
important. You ought to phone him
now.'

'All right.' Tweed, his overcoat already on, sighed impatiently. 'Get him on the line.

'Tweed here, Saafeld,' he said, sitting on the edge of his
desk. 'I gather you called.'

'I owe you an apology. I fear I'm not infallible. When you
rang me from your flat you said you wished we could identify
the fourth corpse, the one of a man found in the snow on
Dartmoor.'

'Yes, I did.'

'I decided to check the corpse again myself,' Saafeld went
on. 'Most of the work on this one was done by an assistant.

He had overlooked the right ankle. At some stage the victim
had broken it. Someone had done the best they could to fix
him up but I have no doubt he walked with a limp.'

'I see. That is valuable. No apology is necessary. I must go
now.'

'Wait, I haven't finished. I started from scratch. I found a
tiny screwed-up ball of paper caught under the right big toe.
It was wet. Working with a chap who is good at this sort of
thing, we dried it carefully, then managed to straighten it out and, under a microscope, read certain lettering. Jacko Kenwood, broker, Haldon Street.'

'You're a genius. I'll buy you dinner at the best place in
town. I'll call you when I'm less rushed.' He stood up.
'Locate Haldon Street for me,' he told Monica as he opened the door. 'Place where brokers work. Stocks and shares and
so forth.'

'I do know what a stockbroker is,' she told him
sarcastically.

'Where are you going?' called out the only other occupant
of the office, Harry Butler.

'Can't I go anywhere without reporting in?' Tweed
snapped.

Monica stood up, blazing. 'I know you're the boss but
here we work as a team. Just in case you'd forgotten.'

'We're driving down the M3,' Tweed told them, 'to see
Larry Voles so I can interrogate him. And anyone else who
catches my eye while we're there.'

Paula waited until they were driving well down the M3 before she spoke. They were close to the Gantia plant.

'You really should remember every member of the team knows about the bullet which missed you by inches further
down this route. They're concerned for your safety.'

'I know. You're right. But I'm building up a head of steam to track down this hideous killer. What he - or she — did
showed no mercy. I want to get my hands on them.'

The gates were closed at the entrance to Gantia. Tweed
grunted. 'I'm not wasting time on their blasted speakphone.'

He began honking his horn nonstop. Paula pursed her
lips. As she looked towards the front of the building she saw someone peering out of a first-floor window. She put a hand
on Tweed's arm.

'I think Lucinda's seen us. She'll open the gates.'

She had hardly spoken when both gates automatically
swung inward. Tweed pressed his foot down, scuffing up
pebbles from the drive, braked suddenly at the platform
below the entrance door. Paula was jerked forward against
her seatbelt. She raised her eyes to heaven.

The door opened and Lucinda greeted them with a smile.
'I'm beginning to get used to you both appearing without
any warning. Welcome to Gantia.'

'I've come to see Larry.' Tweed said. 'It's urgent.'

'It's getting more urgent all the time,' she chided him. 'I'll
take you up. Larry's in his office. I'll leave you alone with him.'