TWO
'You must have recognized Tweed the moment we came into the cell,' Paula said to Falkirk. 'Yet you showed no sign you'd ever seen him before. Why?'
'I wasn't saying a word inside that place. Reedbeck may have had my cell wired.'
'But even earlier, when you were falsely arrested, you kept quiet.'
'Had to. Reedbeck made a colossal blunder. Arrested me on no evidence. Didn't recognize me until after his arrest. I've grown this moustache since I left the Yard and worked under him. Also my hair has grown very long. When he realized who I was it was too late – for him. He had set the wheels in motion, was too stupid to back off…'
'It took me a few moments to realize who you were,' Tweed admitted.
'What are you doing now?' Paula asked, using Tweed's technique of switching the topic suddenly to throw her target off balance.
'We're going back a couple of years. I started my own private investigation agency.'
'What's it called?'
'Eyes Only. Short and to the point…'
He paused as Paula's mobile buzzed. She answered and after a few words she handed it to Tweed. 'Professor Saafeld. Sounds urgent.'
'We'll be there in half an hour, maybe less,' Tweed said after listening briefly. 'He's puzzled,' he told Paula. 'If you're willing to cooperate with me on this case,' he said to Falkirk, 'you can come with us. Which client are you working for now?' he asked abruptly.
'Now you know a private detective never reveals the identity of his client,' Falkirk smiled engagingly. 'Part of the code.'
The Audi was stopped. The traffic wasn't moving. Tweed opened his door, called over his shoulder.
'We'll be here awhile. An accident with police cars. A huge tow-truck is grappling with a monster Cadillac. You won't be able to get into Saafeld's mor tuary, Falkirk. I've just spotted Buchanan in a car three vehicles back. Both of you stay here…'
'Then I'll leave you in a minute,' Falkirk called back. 'Have an urgent appointment so I'll be able to get there early.'
'Refusing to tell us who your client is doesn't strike me as my idea of cooperation,' Paula said sharply when Tweed had gone.
'Sorry, way of the world.'
'Another thing,' she persisted, 'private detectives always have to carry an identity folder and yet you hadn't anything on you when they searched you at Pine Street.'
'Reedbeck is a lousy searcher.' Falkirk grinned, opened his jacket, lifted the hem. Undoing an invisible zip fastener he extracted an identity folder, handed it to her. The photo of him was good and she saw he was forty years old.
'You need money too,' Falkirk went on.
From the same pocket he prised out a wad of folded banknotes. She guessed he must be carrying at least two hundred pounds. He must be doing well out of Eyes Only.
Tweed had lied when he told them he'd seen Buchanan. In his rear-view mirror he'd seen Harry following several vehicles behind him in his beat-up old grey Fiat. Stationary in the log jam, Harry jumped out, followed Tweed down a side street. A woman backed her car out of a resident's bay and drove off.
'You won't believe this,' the cockney began. 'Back at the office, earlier, I was coming in when I heard voices. The door wasn't closed properly. I heard what Lisa said about the people stalking her, then crept back up the stairs. Well, on your way with her to Lynton Avenue, with me keeping well back, she was followed. A hunchback first. He vanishes down an alley. When I've found an empty parking slot and run back to the alley he's gone. I hurtle down the empty alley into the next street. A woman dressed in black with a black veil walks past me. Carrying a large strong carrier bag from an expensive clothes shop.'
'Peculiar.' Tweed began talking quickly. 'I have a passenger in my car beside Paula.'
'Falkirk. Met him over two years ago. When you sent me down to the Yard with a sealed folder.'
'God, what a memory.'
'Has a 'tache and long hair since then.'
'Listen, Harry, he'll be leaving me shortly. Follow him to the end of the earth…'
'I can just turn the Fiat into that empty slot. If he walks I'll collect the car later. If he takes a cab I'll use the car.'
'Don't lose him.'
'You are talking to Harry Butler!'
The moment Tweed settled himself behind the wheel of his Audi, Falkirk opened his door on the pavement side. Squeezing Paula's arm, he paused to speak to Tweed.
'I'm off now. Pointless if I'm not allowed into the mortuary. Saafeld is right, of course. I'll keep in contact. Be good – if you can't do that, be careful. Cheerio…'
In his rear-view mirror Tweed saw Falkirk take the second empty taxi parked behind them. He was amused at his choice.
'Falkirk ignored the first empty cab, took the one behind it. He was worried I'd hired Harry to follow him.'
'Well, we've lost him anyway,' Paula said, now occu pying the front passenger seat next to Tweed.
He smiled as the traffic suddenly started moving again. He told her about his conversation with Harry. When he reported his instructions Paula smiled.
'Falkirk may be smart but Harry's smarter. He'll never lose him.'
She went on to tell him about the trick with his iden tity folder and the money he was carrying. Tweed merely grunted, his mind elsewhere. As they reached Holland Park he turned down the winding cul-de-sac leading to Saafeld's HQ. There were other large private mansions vaguely visible behind trees coming into leaf. It had been a hard winter so the trees were flourishing late. He stopped in front of a pair of high wrought-iron gates let into a ten-foot-high wall, jumped out, used the speakphone set into a pillar to identify himself.
The gates opened, closed automatically behind them. They walked up a curving drive hemmed in by rhododendron bushes. A large white stone mansion came into view and Saafeld stood waiting by a massive open front door.
Professor Saafeld, the country's top pathologist, was of medium height, well built, thick white hair above a high forehead which suggested brain power. It was an impression reinforced by the sharpness of his eyes, which gazed unblinking at anyone he was talking to. He wore a smart blue bird's-eye suit and was in his late fifties. He hugged Paula, who had been to his HQ before.
Tm not going to hug you,' he said with a grin at Tweed.
'Thank heavens for small mercies.'
'We'll go straight into the mortuary. I'm only at the first stage of my autopsy on the two ladies. Also,' he went on, 'I'm puzzled. Show you why…'
In front of a large steel door coated with white enamel he pressed buttons inside a security panel, pulled at the handle. The door opened and closed with an airlock's sucking sound. They descended a flight of stone steps into a small room which was very cold. Paula remembered the procedure as Saafeld opened a cupboard, handed each of them a white coat, a cap, a pair of white gloves and a pair of outsize canvas shoes. The moment they were dressed he pressed buttons in another security panel and a large steel door opened slowly. A unique odour drifted in the air, the odour of death. This time she was prepared for it as she adjusted her mask.
'You're getting used to it,' Saafeld said with a reassuring smile. He was not wearing a mask. 'I never do, but sometimes there's an element in the odour which tells me how they died…'
It was a large room with eight spotless metal-topped tables equipped with encircling gutters. Saafeld skipped the length of the room to two more tables, occupied with bodies covered with white sheets. Paula was always
