The Power (88 page)

'I have come to see where Julius died. I felt it was the
least I could do. Then I wish to collect his body so it can be
returned to Switzerland for decent burial.'

'You did say Julius?'

There was a sound of breaking glass. Jennie had
knocked over her wine. She glanced across at the banker, who was ashen-faced, then spoke in a strangely remote voice to the bartender who had rushed across with a cloth
to mop up the spilt liquid.

'I'm so sorry. That really was frightfully careless of me.
Do be careful not to hurt yourself - there are pieces of
broken glass you can hardly see.'

'Which is why I brought over this wash-leather. If you
would just sit back and relax. Bring you another glass on
the house ...'

Paula was studying Tweed, expecting him to show sym
pathy to Jennie who was embarrassed by the accident. Instead, he sat very still, looking at each person seated
round the table, as though assessing them one by one.
Paula was conscious of a sudden change in the hitherto peaceful atmosphere. Now she sensed it was fraught with
tension. If only she could identify the source. Tweed waited until the waiter had finished cleaning up, had
brought a fresh glass and placed it in front of Jennie.

'I think I know why everyone's here,' he began, his
manner and his tone authoritative. 'It's understandable
that no one is anxious to go back to Tresillian Manor,
considering the tragedy. That being so, the sooner we all do go there the better. It's called laying ghosts.'

'Bloody sauce!' Gaunt protested. 'In case you've for
gotten , I happen to own the place.'

'But last night after you'd landed here in the harbour you took Eve and Jennie to the Metropole where you
stayed the night. Bracing yourself for going back today. I
can understand it,' he repeated.

'How on earth do you know all this?' asked Gaunt in a very subdued tone.

'I checked the hotel register, then had a word with the
Harbour Master. Because it's your house you're the one
most likely to be affected. No more protests. Drink up
and let's get the show on the
road.'

Paula glanced swiftly round the assembled company. She saw Jennie fingering her pearls, twisting her mouth,
then, aware of Paula's scrutiny, she gave a cold smile. Eve
sat calmly. Amberg had an expression which could have been bewilderment or controlled fury. Gaunt sat back in
his chair, staring into the distance and she couldn't read
his expression.

One thing she did know. By sheer force of personality
Tweed had dominated them, persuaded them to do his bidding. He said one more thing before he beckoned to
Newman and Paula and marched out of the bar.

'I insist that our Land-Rover leads the way. No attempt
to overtake me, Gaunt. Let's get moving...'

The gale had reached a new pitch of frenzy on Bodmin
Moor. Hunched over the wheel, with Paula by his side
and Newman in a rear seat, Tweed drove the Land-Rover
at high speed but within the limit, then slowed to turn off along the side road leading to Tresillian Manor.

Paula slid her hand inside her shoulder bag, gripped the
.32 Browning in the special pocket. She had phoned
Monica from Washington, and when they passed through
Customs at London Airport Monica handed her the small
cloth bag containing her gun.

'The gate's open,' she commented.

That's Buchanan. I asked him to open it so we could
not waste any time ...'

He parked the Land-Rover at the foot of the long stone terrace in front of the house. They waited on the terrace for Gaunt to arrive in his BMW, Tweed met the car, held out his hand for the front door key.

'This is my house
...'
Gaunt began.

'The key. We're going in first.' Tweed looked at Jennie
as she slowly stepped out of the car. 'You do want to
know who killed them, don't you?'

'Why look at me?' she snapped back at him.

'Wait, everyone.' It was Eve, snug in her riding jacket, walking towards the stables at the side of the manor. She looked back at Gaunt. 'You said you'd look after Rusty, my beautiful mare.'

'Ned, a reliable chap, has come in every day, cleaned
out her quarters, fed her, given her a trot over the moor.'

'I'll give you two minutes,' Tweed told her. 'We'll wait here on the terrace
...'

Eve was as good as her word, returned in two minutes
with a glowing smile for Gaunt.

'She's in beautiful condition, and so glad to see me.'

'We'll now all go inside,' Tweed announced.

Opening the heavy front door with the key, he strode
inside the hall with the woodblock floor. With a firm tread
he walked over to the closed dining-room door and
looked back before he grasped the handle. Eve stood
behind him, Jennie, looking grim, was close to her.
Amberg came next, prodded forward by Newman.

Tweed flung open the door, strode quickly inside. The
others followed and stopped dead in their tracks. A
grotesque scene met their stunned gaze. Seven figures
dressed in black men's suits were sprawled round the long
table. Two were still seated, slumped across the table in pools of dark red blood. Four more, toppled out of their
chairs, lay in more pools of blood on the floor. The
ultimate macabre horror was at the head of the table -where Amberg had sat. This figure was bent over a
broken-backed chair, its face eaten away by acid, skeletal bones like steel rods exposed, revealing the skull beneath the skin.

Epilogue

'The monster responsible for this obscene crime is in this
room,' Tweed announced. 'She was seen in Padstow on the day of the mass murder - even though she was sup
posed to be in Zurich. Eight people - including the butler
- died. Add Helen Frey, Klara and Theo Strebel and she
has coldly ended the lives of eleven human beings. Add
Celia Yeo and the real postman...'

Jennie stifled a scream. Eve sucked in a deep breath
and whipped a 6.35-mm. Beretta out of her jacket
pocket. She aimed it point-blank at Tweed as Paula pro
duced her Browning, pointed it at the widest target -
Eve's chest.

'Pull that trigger,' Eve warned, 'and Tweed is dead.
Very dead. Drop the bloody thing, you bitch.'

Her voice had changed, was a harsh growl, her eyes
stared with a near-insane expression. Paula stood her
ground as she snapped out a reply.

'Not that easy, Eve.' She lowered her aim. 'Shoot
Tweed and you get bullets in your abdomen. It will take
days for you to die in terrible agony.'

'Then we play it different, dear.' Eve's face seemed to
be carved out of marble. 'I'm leaving this room. If any
one tries to stop me, Tweed is dead. If you all stay
sensible - still - Tweed survives. Everyone except Tweed
and Paula move away from the door
...'

Newman grabbed Amberg, who seemed frozen with
fear, by the arm and forced him further into the room.
Gaunt and Jennie obeyed the order. Backing towards
the open door, Eve kept her weapon, gripped in both
hands, aimed at Tweed. Paula's Browning swivelled
slowly, constantly aimed at its target.

Reaching the open door, Eve held the Beretta in one
hand. With the other she slammed it shut as she stepped
into the hall. As the door was closing she yelled out:
'First one who follows me is dead as a doornail
...'

Paula was the first to react. She saw Eve dart past the
windows of the dining-room, crouching low, heading for
the stables. Running to the casement window, she flung
it open and climbed outside. Instead of heading for the
stables she ran to the Land-Rover, jumped into the seat
behind the wheel. Tweed had left the key in the ignition.
Men could be so careless.

She heard the clatter of hooves a second before switch
ing on the engine. Newman was running towards her.

'Wait for me!'

'No time...!'

Paula shoved her Browning under the seat cushion
beside her with one hand, driving in a semicircle with the
other, driving towards the passage between manor and stables. She saw Eve on her horse, fleeing behind the
manor, followed her. Beyond the stretch of rough grass
extending away behind the manor Eve rode her horse
through the gap in the firs on to the moor. Paula pressed
her foot down, bracing her back against the seat,
careering through the same gap...

Only a four-wheel-drive vehicle could have negotiated
the rough rocky terrain of the ascending moor. Her target rode like the devil, titian hair streaming behind her in the
fury of the gale. Grimly, Paula maintained her pursuit.
This was personal: Eve had threatened to kill Tweed.

As Paula narrowed the gap between herself and the
horsewoman, Eve turned several times in her saddle,
fired the Beretta. Paula counted the rounds and knew
when Eve's gun was empty. Not a single bullet had come
close, not even penetrating her windscreen. Firing from a
racing horse, Eve's self-control had finally cracked.

Paula suddenly realized Eve was heading for Five Lanes. She had a cottage there. High Tor loomed up
ahead. As the cluster of whitewashed cottages came
closer Paula saw a cream Jaguar parked outside one -
Eve's hope of escape. She accelerated, came so close to
the flying horse that Eve gave up all hope of using the Jaguar. Eve changed direction, plunged up a steep slope,
heading for the summit of High Tor.

Paula drove up after her, had almost caught up with the
flying horse when her right-hand front
wheel mounted a
boulder. She braked automatically as the vehicle tilted
violently and she was hurled out to the left. She rolled like
a parachutist landing, stopped, saw to her horror she was
at the edge of the sheer abyss where the servant girl, Celia
Yeo, had been hurled over.

Half-stunned by her fall, she saw the Land-Rover had
righted itself, was standing four-square on its wheels.
Then she saw Eve riding towards her, face twisted into an
evil grimace of triumph. She was going to use the horse to
kill Paula, its hooves hammering into her skull. On the verge of reining in her mare, the horse reacted with terror
as it saw the drop. It reared up without warning. Paula
stared as Eve left the saddle, was catapulted over the
brink. She heard her long scream, saw her somersaulting
body plunging down beyond the abyss, saw her head
smash into a massive boulder, her arms jerk out sideways,
then she was still, a broken corpse similar to that of Celia
Yeo whom she had pushed over the same drop.

'The tableau in the dining-room was constructed of dum
mies with wigs,' Chief Inspector Buchanan explained as Paula drank sweetened tea. 'The blood was red oil-paint - nice and sticky. I enlisted the aid of a friend who worked
at Madame Tussaud's Waxwork Museum before he
retired. Most effective job.'