No Mercy (8 page)

Tweed closed the door. 'When I had my private chat in
the nook with Larry he said we could stay here for a night -
or longer if we wanted to. I mentioned we'd left our cases in
the car at Post Lacey. He said he'd send Tarvin on his
motorcycle to get them so I loaned him the car key. They're
only light so he was easily able to carry them.'

'That means Tarvin would see the skeleton.'

'Not necessarily. He'd be concentrating on keeping his
machine on the difficult track. And I told Larry about that
skeleton, that a police team would be arriving from London
by chopper sometime in the night. At my suggestion he's
promised not to mention it to a soul. No point in letting it
get into the local grapevine until Buchanan and Saafeld have
removed the remains.'

'How did Larry react to the news?' she asked quietly.

'Shock. He recovered quickly. He's got a lot of self-
control. Asked me if it was a man or a woman. I told him I'd
no idea. Decomposition had gone too far.'

'I'm going to switch off the light. There should be quite a
view of the moor from the strange windows.'

Strange was the word. The windows were curved inwards
like the original monastery arches. He stood beside her as
she pulled back a curtain. By the light of the moon the view
was breathtaking. A great sweep of dark moor rolling like the
waves of a frozen sea. She took out a monocular glass from
her shoulder bag and focused it.

'The skeleton has fallen backwards. I can see the skull.'

She handed the glass to him. 'Follow the track.'

'I've got it. More earth movement, I imagine. Fortunately
your scarf shows up clearly. The chopper will bring a
searchlight.'

He reached out to another switch on the wall, turned on the dim lanterns as she pulled the curtain closed. She sat
down on a tapestry-covered chair. She was tired and had to
force herself to speak clearly. She told him about her
encounter with Mrs Brogan in the kitchen. The
housekeeper's tale about the cult operating on the moor. The reference to cannibalism.

Tweed smiled. 'I'd forget about that if I were you. Both
Devon and Cornwall have old families who've lived here for
generations. They pass on age-old legends. Plus there are some cases of intermarriages. I think you'd better get some
sleep. But when I get to my room I'm going to try an
experiment.' He took the walking stick that Alf Garner had
given him and hooked it over his arm. On the panelled wall
he tapped a tattoo. 'I'll repeat that when I get inside my
room on the connecting wall. If you can hear it, repeat it back to me. Just something so you know you can contact
me.'

'I've also brought two rubber wedges,' said Paula. 'I'll jam
them under the door . . .'

When Tweed had left Paula hauled off her boots. When they arrived she had followed Tweed's example, cleaning
them carefully on an old iron bar on the terrace. She walked
to the adjoining wall, heard the agreed tattoo clearly. Thankfully, she repeated the tattoo with the heel of one boot. There was one tap from the other side. Tweed had heard her.

Sagging with fatigue, she rammed the wedges underneath
the door to the hall. She then forced
herself to explore,
opening another door. She was taken aback to find a large modern bathroom with a loo. Opening a heavy glass door,
she peered into a shower room. She'd have given anything to
have a shower but she was dropping.

She washed at the marble basin and cleaned her teeth. Going back into the bedroom, she stared at the huge high
bed. 'Need a bloody ladder to get into it,' she said to herself.

Hauling herself aboard, she pulled back the eiderdown and sheets. A large rubber hot-water bottle radiated heat.
She tested it with a finger. Boiling hot. She eased it down to
the bottom of the bed, took off her clothes, folded them and
draped them on a chair beside the bed. Exhausted, she
reached up to a dangling switch cord and pulled it. The
room was pitch black. Her head flopped on the soft pillow.
She fell into a deep sleep.

*

She was standing on the ice-cold moor near where the skull
had been found. A strange figure was stooped over the skull,
its head hooded.

The nightmare deepened. The hooded figure was
wielding the serrated edge of a large blade, scraping flesh from the side of the skull. She opened her mouth to scream
as a hand from behind her grasped her shoulder. The hand
was skeletal.

She tried to back away. Her feet wouldn't move. As
though glued to the moor. Trails of white mist floated across
her face. The hooded figure had ceased its foul work on the
skull. Now it was turning slowly towards her, the knife in its
gloved hand turned so the blade with the serrated edge was held towards her. She vaguely recalled something about the
skeleton's throat being cut to the spine. She still couldn't see
the figure's face.

She heard what sounded like some monstrous bird
hovering above her, slapping its wings. The figure behind her
was peering round to see her. It was Mrs Brogan's face, also
hooded. She was smiling evilly, her small sharp teeth exposed. Paula tried to lift her arm to strike at Brogan,
found she
couldn't move her arm. She opened her mouth to
scream. No sound emerged. She remembered Mrs Brogan
telling her about the cult. Were the hoods their bestial
'uniform'? She was terrified by her powerlessness. Heard a
thump.

She jerked herself upwards, found she was in bed. Then
she heard several stealthy creaks. The hall outside. The floor
had creaked when she and Tweed had approached the
bedrooms earlier.

She reached up, desperately trying to locate the hanging cord which switched on the lights. Her hand closed round
it. She was alert enough now not to jerk it, to break it. She
pulled the cord and the lights came on. No one in the
room.

She rolled carefully out of bed. Grabbing the Beretta she
had placed on the bedside table, she tiptoed across to the door. She saw immediately the door was open an inch.
Someone had tried to enter, had been defeated even after
pushing hard at the wedges. She heard more creaks on the
floorboards outside. She kicked away the wedges and
opened the door with the hand not holding the
automatic.

Tweed, fully dressed, stood outside, gazing at her with
concern. She beckoned him inside. He closed the door
quietly.

'What's the matter, Paula? You've lost your usual colour.'

'Had a nightmare. Doesn't matter. What are you doing?'

'The police arrived a while ago. I heard the chopper
landing. I'm going down to see Buchanan - I'm sure he'll be there. So get back to bed.'

'Not in a million years. I'm coming with you.'

In the deserted hall where lights were still on Tweed scooped
up the door key from under the carpet. He explained he'd
warned Larry he might go out when the team arrived. Larry had shown him where the key was hidden, reminded him of
the combination to the numbered keypad.

Despite the fact that they'd put on their overcoats, which
they had taken from the cupboard near the door, the cold hit
them as soon as they reached the terrace. Tweed handed her
a torch like the
one he held.

'Be very careful to keep to that track.'

'Looks like a lot of activity down there,' she said as they
made their way down the moor.

Over the area where the skeleton had been found a large
canvas was slung. Beyond were police tapes. A Sikorsky
helicopter was perched on the track nearer to Post Lacey. A lot of policemen were moving round, visible by the torches they held.

'Buchanan has brought a big team,' Tweed commented.

They were close enough to see details when Paula saw
Warden, Buchanan's assistant. He had a large bandage
round his left arm. Buchanan, with Professor Saafeld, the
pathologist, behind him, ran to meet them.

'Grim news. There's a second corpse, a second murder.'

8

'Where is it? Tweed asked quietly.

'First of all,' explained Buchanan, who wore a police cape,
'the near skeleton you found has been taken by ambulance
up to Professor Saafeld's place in Holland Park so he can perform an autopsy.'

'The ambulance was able to get here from London
quickly.'

'I phoned Exeter police HQ and asked for two
ambulances to be sent here at once. Exeter wasn't very
pleased. Thought
they
ought to handle the case. I told them
the Yard had been called in. That settled it.'

Saafeld, clad in a sports jacket, hands covered by latex gloves, appeared behind Buchanan. In his fifties, he had an
unruly mop of thick white hair. He was a well-built man of
medium height. His weathered face had sharp features,
observant eyes. He smiled at Paula.

'When I heard Tweed was down here I guessed you'd be
with him. Must have been a shock when you discovered the
corpse.'

'It goes with the job,' she said, returning his smile. She liked him and felt confident the feeling was mutual.

'The second corpse?' Tweed prodded Buchanan.

'Warden discovered it by accident. He was cordoning off
the area with tape. I'd warned him to watch his footing.
Then he treads on wooden planks, which give way. He finds
himself hanging by his hands over a deep hole. It's an old
mine shaft. Hence his injury to his arm - he grazed it badly
on a piece of sharp wood. Saafeld disinfected it after I'd
hauled him up. At the bottom of the shaft was another
skeleton.'

'Near-skeleton,' Saafeld corrected him. 'It still has chunks
of frozen flesh attached. Want to see? You place your
footsteps where I place mine.'

They left the track, walking slowly along a narrow path,
their torches beamed downwards. Tweed followed Paula
only a short distance behind. Saafeld's powerful torch
beamed down the shaft. At the bottom they could clearly see
a skeleton stretched out, as though asleep. Except the eye sockets of the skull were staring straight up at Paula. She suppressed a shudder. It was macabre.

A telescopic ladder was perched against one side of the
shaft. On the far side, near the edge of the shaft, was a long fold-up cradle wrapped in clean white sheets. A rope coiled
round a central wheel dangled down into the makeshift
grave. Saafeld pointed to it.

'I always travel with everything I might need. Folded, the
cradle easily fitted into the chopper, as did the ladder. I went
down there, using the ladder. Took photos, then made a careful preliminary examination. We'll use the cradle to
bring up the corpse. Under my supervision.'