the impact of the wash from the powerboat. Tweed was already staring with the others in the same direction.
The explosion was thunderous. One second the powerboat was swinging round in a half-circle, ready to come back towards its target. The next second, as the detonation rang out, it split in two – the prow shooting skywards. Paula stared as a gigantic column of water like the geyser in Yellowstone Park soared up, taking with it dark objects which were debris from the shattered wreck.
The water boiled briefly where the powerboat had died, then it became calm with the surface ruffled only by ripples. Tweed was confident neither of the crew had seen Cardon lob the grenade, so intent had they been on steering the ferry clear of disaster at the last moment. The skipper handed over the wheel to his mate and his first words as he came out of the wheel-house confirmed Tweed's assumption.
'Sorry for that, folks. We've 'ad similar fools in the past. Think it's fun to scare the 'ell out of my passengers. But I don't know what that was. And then 'is petrol blew. That's 'appened before, too. Young idiots buys these expensive fast boats – must be fast for 'em – and then 'asn't the money to keep up any maintenance. I'm givin' you all your money back…'
'You most certainly are doing nothing of the sort,' Tweed said forcefully. 'Only one pound each for the return trip to Rock – and you saved our lives by your expert seamanship.'
'Anything that keeps you 'appy.' The skipper frowned. 'Never seen quite so big an explosion when petrol tank goes. Still, was a big boat. Now, we're landin' in a moment…'
11
They landed from the ferry by the same method – walking down the plank while the mate stood alongside, ready to give anyone who needed it a hand. Paula had no hesitation in reaching out for her hand to be grasped – her legs felt like jelly after their recent experience.
'See that stick with the flag stuck in beach?' called out the skipper. 'When you want to come back wait wherever it's been moved to. Tide will start to come in in the next hour…'
Tweed had walked down the plank, again ignoring the hand offered. His feet immediately sank into the sand which had recently been covered with water. Ploughing his way up to a ramp leading off the beach was like walking on a giant sponge. Paula and Newman caught him up as the other three men followed at a distance, spreading out, their eyes everywhere.
'You look smug,' Paula accused Tweed.
'Sorry. Just satisfied that my instinct was right.'
'What instinct?' Newman demanded.
That the enemy had now tracked us to Padstow.'
'Anything to back that up?' Newman continued. 'You're always so keen on data to back up a theory.'
'Last night I couldn't sleep. As you know, my bedroom window gives a panoramic view of the estuary and this shore. You remember, Bob, you lent me your binoculars.'
'You saw something, then?'
'Oh, yes, I saw something.' Tweed chuckled, outwardly unaffected that they had just escaped sudden death. 'I saw something. Switching off the lights, I pulled back the curtains. Soon I saw a lamp flashing on and off over here. Red, then green, then red. Morse code – but the message was in cipher, if you understand me. A stream of meaningless letters, so I couldn't read what they were sending. But I could guess.'
'And you guessed what?' Paula pressed.
'That the sender in Rock was informing someone in Padstow that we have arrived at the Metropole. That was the first stage of targeting us.'
'And the second stage?'
'That was the lamp flashing which I noticed from the cove while we waited for the ferry. It was probably signalling to that powerboat cruising out at sea just beyond the estuary – that we'd be aboard the ferry.'
'Sounds thin,' Newman objected. 'It presupposes someone was watching the ferry for hours. We might never have come here.'
'So maybe they were watching the inner harbour through binoculars from Rock. These people leave nothing to chance. After we left perhaps a certain pennant was hoisted up the mast of that cabin cruiser, Mayflower III. Remember who suggested we take that ferry?'
'Gaunt!' Newman grated out the name. 'He waits until he's persuaded us to cross to Rock and then hoists the signal which tells whoever is waiting over here, wherever that might be.'
'Oh, last night through your binoculars I pinpointed the source where the lamp was flashing from.'
The shore of Rock was deserted and there was an atmosphere of being cut off from the world which Paula found disturbing. Tweed led the way off the soggy beach up a ramp which started out as concrete and then became wooden ribbed. He turned left, away from the few buildings which were Rock. They entered a desolate quarry which was apparently used as a car park during the season. Not a single vehicle was parked in the grim amphitheatre enclosed by granite walls.
'Don't point or look at it obviously,' Tweed warned. 'I saw the lamp flashing last night from that strange house perched on its own above us. From the first-floor window on the right.'
Paula glanced round as though taking in the view. Strange was hardly the word for the house. Weird, she said to herself. Isolated well up the steep slope it had a Victorian appearance but gave the impression half of it had been sliced off and taken away at some distant time.
Tall and thin, built of the universal grey stone, it had a single high gable with a turret below it at one corner. The building had a derelict appearance and Paula thought she'd never seen a more sinister house. Like something out of Hitchcock's Psycho.
'We'll climb up and have a look at it,' Tweed said as Butler joined them under the lee of the granite wall.
'What's the objective?' he asked tersely.
'That tall house above us. We're going to have a look at it.'
'I'll tell Cardon and Nield. We'll spread out. I'm going to approach it from the rear, which means a little alpine climbing…'
Tweed headed for a small flight of crude steps leading up out of the quarry to a winding footpath. He climbed so quickly that Paula and Newman had to move to keep up with him. Newman tucked his Smith amp; Wesson inside his belt.
'What an awful area,' Paula commented when they reached a point halfway to the house.
The steep slope had an air of desolation and to her right was a dense wood of miserable firs hanging over Rock. The trunks were stunted, bent at an angle away from the sea, their branches twisted into ugly shapes like deformed arms. Now they were higher up a wind, blowing in off the ocean, whipped against them. No wonder the trees were so crippled. Beyond the path was scrubby grass and the undergrowth had a shaggy look, hammered over the years by ferocious winds.
'What a glorious view,' Newman said, pausing.
The wind was stronger, the Atlantic had come into sight. As they stood together the wind was battering like a thousand flails. Surf-tipped rollers were roaring in to the outer reaches of the estuary, breaking against the base of the eastern cape, hurling skywards great clouds of white spray. More rollers advanced up the estuary.
Tweed averted his eyes, looked across the estuary to the far side. The grey mass of Padstow sheered up like a gigantic fortress wall. The Metropole was well elevated and he realized why he had seen so clearly the lamp flashing from the house above them.
'Let's keep moving,' he urged.
The narrow path snaked from side to side in its gully, which made walking difficult. They were near the tall thin house which, close up, had an even more derelict appearance. Three steps led up to the front door inside a porch. No garden, no fence – the property was open to the wilderness. Then Tweed saw how it could be reached by car. A wide sandy track led downhill, went round a bend, vanished.
Butler suddenly appeared from the rear of the building. He was pocketing the compact tool-kit which he always carried.
'No one here,' he reported. 'No furniture inside, no carpets on the floor.'
