'I didn't say that. Can't you get away from Exmoor for a while? Spend a little time with a friend. Say in London?'
'Stuart wouldn't stand for it. He expects me to stay at Woodside. I'm his wife…'
'So talk to him about it – as you have to me…'
She shook her head. Her mass of blonde hair swirled in waves. Tweed wondered what it would be like to run his hand through that jungle of blondeness… His mouth tightened. Madness. 'I want you to remember one thing, Tweed. Never get mixed up with any woman connected with a case you're working on. That is the road to certain disaster. His mentor when he'd first joined the Yard.
'I can't,' she said vehemently. 'He's closed up inside himself. He always was too self-contained. I realized that after we were married. Too late. Can I come to you if things get worse?'
'If I'm still in Somerset. Why are these three men living so close together? Your husband, Robson and Barrymore.'
'Robson is a doctor. He came out of the Army at the end of the war. They kept in touch. When Stuart and Barrymore retired from the Service Robson helped them find homes. I didn't know any of this until after I was married. I never did like such a peculiar set-up. I'd better go now.'
Tweed stood up promptly, checked his watch. 'Actually, I have an appointment. I can't promise you anything…'
She slipped on her coat, left it open, stretching her breasts as she threw back her golden hair over the collar. Walking quickly round the table, she hugged him with both arms, pressed her body close to his and kissed him.
'It's early days for you and me,' she said.
Then she was gone.
The phone was ringing when Tweed returned to his room. He ran, knowing the ringing would stop as he reached for the receiver. He lifted it, said 'Hello.' The manager answered, said there was a call for him.
'That you, Tweed?'
Partridge's voice. Sounded as though he'd been hurrying before he used the phone.
'Yes, Sam.' A click, which told him the manager had put down his instrument. 'I think it's all right to speak now. Where are you?'
'Winsford. You take the road out of Dunster where you met me on horseback. Continue on until you come to a signpost on the right. I'll meet you at The Royal Oak Inn for lunch. 12.30 suit you?'
'I'll be there. Stay off the moor, Sam. We'll cooperate. I can tell you something about Masterson…'
'Really?' Still sounded in a rush. 'One thing you should know. Antikhana. You know where that is? What happened there a long time ago?'
'I'm with you.' Partridge was exercising caution, not trusting the phone. 'Go on…'
'I didn't like the look of Selim, the Sudanese on duty the evening it happened. Humble had questioned him. Superficially. I put him through the wringer. He was hiding something. No doubt about it. Selim vanished shortly afterwards. I think someone used a carrot and stick. The carrot, money. The stick, fear. Never seen again. Rumoured he'd gone back to Khartoum. My bet is he ended up floating down the Nile. Must go now…'
'Stay off the moor,' Tweed repeated.
'See you for lunch…'
The connection was broken. Tweed replaced the receiver slowly. He felt very unhappy about the call. Hands clasped behind his back, he paced the large room. Later he went out into the garden for some fresh air. He stood on a neat lawn, looking at the old castle which perched above the small town at the other end of the High Street. Beyond the wall at the end of the garden green fields stretched away. An atmosphere of pure peace. And the last thing he was experiencing was peace of mind.
Tweed checked his watch again. Fifteen minutes to twelve. He had studied his map of Exmoor, obtained from a newsagent down the High Street. He calculated thirty minutes would be ample time to drive to Winsford. He would give Paula and Nield until noon to get back from Minehead; if they didn't arrive he would leave a note and drive there alone. Someone tapped softly on his door.
'We were quick,' Paula told him as she entered the room followed by Nield. 'Both windows have been replaced.'
'That was quick.'
'I found a Mercedes dealer,' Nield explained. 'With a garage next door. I tipped them well before they started. Four men worked on the job. We're off to Watchet now?'
'No. Something came up…'
'She certainly did,' Paula commented, teasing him. 'You've come into close combat with the enemy, I see.'
She reached for Tweed's right shoulder, took something between her fingers off his blue bird's-eye suit and held it up. A long blonde hair. 'Good job we didn't get back earlier.'
'Sit,' Tweed commanded. He was irked by his carelessness. He'd wiped his mouth clean of Jill Reams' lipstick. He should have checked more thoroughly in the mirror. 'I have a lot to tell – and not much time to tell it. We have to be in Winsford to meet Partridge at 12.30 …'
He repeated a concise account of his encounter with Jill Reams; he had total recall for conversations. Paula and Nield sat and listened while he then went on and told them about the telephone call from Partridge.
'And now you're up to date,' he concluded.
'She doesn't waste much time,' Paula remarked, then clapped her hand to her mouth. 'Sorry, that was pretty catty. She sounds like a very frightened woman. But frightened of what exactly?'
'Or a first-rate actress,' Tweed pointed out. 'Sent by Kearns to probe me, find out what I'm really up to.'
'My own thought,' Nield interjected. 'And why should we assume it was Kearns who sent her? If she's having an affair with one of the other two – Barrymore or Robson?'
'You are a couple of cynics,' Paula observed.
'Pete could be right,' Tweed said. 'Someone may have sent her on a fishing expedition.'
'But what was your real impression?' Paula demanded, leaning forward, staring hard at Tweed.
'Not enough data yet. I'm in a neutral zone. And it's time we set off for Winsford. Same procedure, Pete. Paula comes with me in the Merc. You follow in the Cortina. When we get to The Royal Oak, sit at a separate table. You're not with us. Let's move…'
'It's Wednesday,' Paula said suddenly. 'That's the day those three – Barrymore, etc., have lunch at The Royal Oak.'
'And that had occurred to me when Partridge suggested meeting me there. No coincidence I'm sure. Sam knows what he's doing. So, when we arrive we don't recognize him unless he comes up to us. It's his game. Let him play it his way.'
Tweed had taken the right-hand turn off the main road to Dulverton. following the signpost to Winsford. The day was overcast and chilly, the winding road ahead deserted. Paula sat beside Tweed, gazing at the huge brown sweeping ridges of Exmoor towering in the distance.
'Look.' she said, 'it's coming back.'
Tweed glanced to his right. Along the high edge of the ridges a wave curled like a surf-crested sea. The mist crept down, blotting out the upper slopes of the moor, advancing remorselessly. Paula shivered. There was something sinister the way the grey vapour swallowed up the moor.
'I hope to God Partridge has reached Winsford,' Tweed remarked. 'Imagine getting lost in that stuff.'
'You would get lost then?'
'Well, it depends. I guess by now he knows Exmoor pretty well. The amount of time he seems to have spent roaming over it. He probably knows which gulches lead down into Winsford. I just don't like the idea of him being up there at all. Let's hope we find him at The Royal Oak, sitting with a pint in front of him. Then I'll feel better.'
Astride his horse Partridge spotted the first wraiths of mist higher up, wraiths which merged into a solid wave of grey as it rolled towards him. Time to head down for Winsford. Turning his horse, he was about to ride down a gully which would take him on to the main road when he saw the second horse.
It stood riderless, reins draped, head down as it nuzzled tufts of grass. The rider lay sprawled on the ground, face down, his head resting on a boulder. His riding cap was askew, tilted no doubt when the animal had thrown him. Or had he been taken ill, fallen from the horse, his head striking the iron-hard boulder?
Partridge gave a quick glance at the mist which was close now. Dismounting, he strode towards the stricken
