No Mercy (50 page)

'I agree with you,' responded Tweed. 'What struck me was
it had to be somebody connected with Abbey Grange, also
working at Gantia. Otherwise, how would they know about
Christine - and Lee? Don't you agree, Aubrey?'

'Why ask me?' Aubrey spluttered, whisky dribbling down
his shirt front.

It was at this moment that Michael, who presumably had taken in none of Tweed's deductions, stood up to leave the
room. He walked, stiff-legged, towards the stairs leading to
his bedroom.

At the foot of the stairs he paused, his right hand touching the carved man's head decorating the top of the lowest pillar.

As he began walking slowly upstairs Paula noticed that
neither of his shoelaces was tied. Trailing on the floor, they
threatened to trip him up. She opened her mouth, then
closed it, realizing he wouldn't even hear her.

Michael reached the last steps before the landing. His
right foot tangled with the loose laces, he lost his balance,
tumbled head over heels all the way down, smashing the
back of his head against the carved figure.

Nearly everyone jumped up. Drago attempted to, but couldn't extricate himself from the chair, and so swore to
himself.

Lucinda reached the prone Michael first, checked his pulse. She turned round to face the others.

'He's alive. Pulse ticking over normally.'

Behind her Michael was clambering to his feet as Lucinda
ran to the phone. Paula was the first to notice that his glazed
eyes and blank look had gone. He stared round the room.
He was now walking normally. Because he had been silent
for so long, it was a shock when he spoke, articulating the
words clearly and bitterly.

'
I
witnessed murder!'

'What?' gasped Aubrey.

Michael said one more word. 'There.' His arm was raised,
his index finger pointed.

32

Everyone froze for several moments. Except for Michael,
who walked slowly forward, his accusing finger pointing.
The person he was pointing at also froze, but only briefly.
Lucinda put down the phone she hadn't used.

She stared at the finger pointed at her like a gun, shrugged,
went to her armchair, sat down, moved a cushion concealing
her handbag, opened it and slipped her hand inside.

'He's crazy,' she said. 'First it's amnesia when he bumped
his head falling down the stairs the first time. Now he's gone
right over the edge.'

'I saw you,' Michael said, his voice clear and balanced. 'I'd
come back early from the office. I parked my car on the
verge just outside Post Lacey. I always walk up from there.
Which is why you didn't hear me coming . . .'

'You're quite mad . . .'

'No, you are. I walked up the track in the moonlight. I saw
you grabbing Lee from behind, holding her hair, then you
used a knife to cut her throat, turned it round and used it
again. I was stunned. You were cutting pieces of her flesh off
and dropping them into a bag. Then you dragged what was
left of Lee and dropped her down a mine shaft.'

'You must see a doctor,' she said and lit a cigarette.

'You were startled when you saw me,' he went on. 'You grabbed my arm and we walked up to the house. You were
talking nonstop, something about Lee had attacked you. You
hustled me into the house and I couldn't decide what was
true. You took me up the stairs. Near the top you said you'd
twisted your ankle. Then you were in front of me, on the
step above. You turned, used both hands to give me a great
shove. I went all the way down those damned stairs, just as I did a moment ago. Hit my head on the bottom pillar and
everything went blank.'

'We're home and dry,' said Tweed, still seated. 'We need
only one witness to one murder. Michael is the witness.'

Lucinda jumped up. Her right hand held the knife she had
extracted from her handbag. She rushed forward towards
Michael. Everyone was taken by surprise. Everyone except Paula.

'Without one witness,' Lucinda screamed in a voice hardly
sane, 'without one witness,' she yelled again, 'you can do
nothing.'

She held the large knife up high, ready to plunge it into
Michael. Paula was already close to her, the Browning she
had snatched from under her napkin held in both hands. She
called out a warning.

'Drop the knife, Lucinda, or I'll shoot you dead.'

Lucinda swung round. Her expression shocked Paula,
almost froze her. Her eyes were slits. The eyes behind the
slits were full of evil and hatred. Her mouth was twisted into
a ferocious animal-like grimace. She didn't look human any
more.

She rushed towards Paula. Again the knife was held high
for a downward strike. Automatically, Paula noticed it had
two edges. One a fine razor edge, the other side serrated. It
had brown stains on it.

'I'll shoot,' Paula shouted at her.

It didn't stop Lucinda. She moved forward with
astonishing speed. The handle of the knife was tightly gripped in both hands. She took a deep breath, psyching herself up to plunge it deep into her opponent's body.

'You've always got in the way,' she screamed, spittle
dripping from her mouth.

Paula fired once. The bullet slammed into Luanda's
chest. Blood spurted. Amazingly, it didn't stop Lucinda's
oncoming rush. Paula fired again, then again. An
expression of surprise, disbelief, crossed Lucinda's face. Then she fell forward, smashed her head against the floor,
lying very still."

Tweed checked her carotid artery, looked up at Paula,
shook his head. Someone had rushed in from the terrace.
Tweed stared. It was Chief Superintendent Buchanan,
dressed in a suit. Tweed had earlier jumped up from his seat,
holding his Walther. He'd not dared to use the weapon
because Paula had been in the way. Buchanan's manner was
authoritative as he strode forward.

'It's still your case, Tweed, so regard me as backup. I saw
and heard everything that happened. Mr Drago Volkanian
was most cooperative when I signalled to him to ignore me
outside on the terrace.'

'I've killed a woman,' Paula said quietly. 'Killed a woman.'

She was in a state. The climax of so much exertion
recently, so much horror, had finally exhausted her stamina.
Tweed put his arm round her, used his left hand to take the
Browning by the end of the muzzle and drop it into an
evidence bag.

I'll have to stand trial,' Paula said in the same quiet voice.

'Nonsense,' said Buchanan with deliberate abruptness.
'You fired in self-defence. The room is full of witnesses who will agree that forcefully, including myself. There will never
be a trial,' he predicted. 'Maybe a statement from you later.
That will be it.'

'We should call an ambulance,' Tweed suggested.

'Already coming.' Buchanan waved a small mobile phone.

Tweed looked at Drago Volkanian. The billionaire had
made no attempt to rise from his chair. Possibly for the first
time in his life he looked stunned. After getting Paula
comfortable in a chair, avoiding the one Lucinda had sat in,
he went over to Drago. 'Are you all right?'

'So she, Lucinda, was responsible for the frightful
murders?'

'No doubt about it. These days women do kill. Read the
newspapers. It's the age of equality,' Tweed said ironically.

Epilogue

Three weeks later, the team were assembled in the Park Crescent office. They were there to welcome back Paula, now seated at her desk and looking her normal eager self.
Buchanan had visited them briefly, refusing Tweed's offer to sit down.

Instead, he made straight for Paula's desk, his face
wreathed in a smile. She looked up at him warily.

'It's all over,' he told her. 'You've made your statement, a
copy of which was sent with other witnesses' accounts to the
public prosecutor. They all came back to me with a blunt
note. "Why have you sent this junk to me? It's clear as crystal
there is no case to answer. Don't waste my time again.'"

'Thank you for coming over to tell me,' she replied in a
normal voice. 'The odd thing is, I did rather like Lucinda.
She was so alive.'

'None of her foully treated victims are alive,' he reminded
her. 'Must go now.'

'I found something last night in a jacket pocket,' Marler reported. 'Sorry, but everything was a bit of a rush. Before
we dumped Charmian's body down that drain at
Stonehenge I'd searched him quickly, found a wallet and
tucked it away.'

'Anything interesting?' asked Tweed.

'An expertly produced fake passport in an English name,
plenty of British money.' He paused. 'And a temporary
certificate allowing him to fly light aircraft over here.'

'That plane I saw!' Paula exclaimed. 'First following us on
our visit with Michael navigating us to Abbey Grange. Then
later as we drove up the A303, had to stop because of the
Gantia truck stolen and blocking the way. So the bullet through our window which just missed us . . .'

'Obviously fired by Charmian,' Marler drawled. 'Not his
finest performance, fortunately.'

'Too close for comfort.' Tweed remarked.

Newman was waving the day's copy of the
Daily Nation
he
had been reading.

'I don't think any of you heard the latest news. Last night four American B52 bombers flew over Angora and wiped
out their long-range rocket installation in the desert.'

'Better late than never,' Tweed observed caustically.
'Three weeks since we destroyed that freighter and its deadly
cargo. If it had survived it would have arrived at a port in
Angora, the missiles would have been rushed to that
installation and launched.'

'One favour I have to repay,' Marler said. 'What's Loriot's
private number?'

From memory Tweed scribbled the number of the French
counterespionage chief. He wondered what Marler was up
to as he passed him the sheet of paper.

'Is that Loriot?' Marler asked after making the call.

'Oui.
And that is Marler. I recognize the distinctive voice.'

Loriot prided himself on his command of English.

'Just calling,' Marler said, 'to tell you not to worry any more about Charmian. He's been dealt with over here.
Cheers!'