seaside resort of Swanage. Soon, to his left, Butler saw the steep slopes of a range of the Purbeck Hills sweeping up just behind the country road, shaped like great barrows.
'Corfe next,' Butler said to himself. 'Next point is where do you turn there? On to Wareham or up into the hills?'
His question was answered as the limo turned left at the base of the mound on which the great stones of the ancient castle reared up, then through the old village of Corfe itself. Just at the end of Corfe the limo swung off to the right past a signpost that pointed to Kingston.
'Looks like Grenville Grange.' Butler commented under his breath as the wind hammered down a steep hill against his visor. 'I wonder where everybody else is? Tweed would be interested in this development …'
'You do realize we've been followed all the way from Park Crescent?' said Paula.
Behind the wheel of his car Tweed nodded as he came close to Wareham.
'A blue Vauxhall.' he said. 'One man, the driver. Now he's disappeared and we have a grey Jaguar keeping us company. Maybe they do it in turns, hoping to fool us. The Jag is probably a coincidence. It appeared only a few miles back.'
'You don't normally believe in coincidences.' she reminded him.
'Because behind the Jag is a blue Renault which, I think, is using the Jag to mask himself. All this is very promising.'
'Promising?' Paula queried in surprise.
'Yes, it means my wide enquiries into the activities of Leopold Brazil have triggered off anxiety.'
'It sounds as though you've provoked suspicion deliberately.'
'Well, I did ask a few contacts to spread the news that I was asking leading questions about His Lordship.'
'I might have guessed. Heavens, look at those fields. They are just lakes.'
They were crossing a bridge over a river into the main street of Wareham, which looked dead. Paula gazed at the ancient Georgian terraces, each house with its door painted a different colour.
'In good weather this looks like a nice sleepy place, I expect.'
'Very sleepy.' Tweed commented. 'Three murders within twenty-four hours. Which reminds me, I think it's vital we track down the real Marchat. I have a hunch he was heading for Heathrow on his way out of the country.'
'So we've lost him.'
'Not necessarily. While you were out of my office for a few minutes freshening up I called Jim Corcoran, Security Chief at Heathrow, gave him Newman's description of Partridge – apparently looks very like our will-o'- the-wisp, Marchat. I asked him to check all the early morning flights out of Heathrow. Especially to Europe.'
'Why Europe?'
'Because so many things are happening in Europe. That's where The Motorman has been most active. Don't mention him to anybody. And Brazil has at least two houses in Europe we know about. One in Paris at the Avenue Foch, another on the lakeside in Zurich.'
'Why are you worried about Leopold Brazil?'
'Because of rumours from sources I trust that he is planning some huge operation. Because he has such power – with his contacts at the highest levels. Because I have been warned off investigating him – and so have Lasalle in Paris and Arthur Beck in Berne. Here we are…'
Tweed turned left off South Street at a point where, beyond a bridge, Paula could see the grim-looking sweep of the Purbecks in the distance, their summits lost in a blanket of black clouds. He arrived outside the Priory, parked the car in a slot up against a stone wall near the entrance. As he did so the grey Jaguar pulled up alongside. The driver waved to Tweed.
'We have pleasant company.' Tweed remarked. 'You do know Bill Franklin, ex-member of Military Intelligence?'
'I call him Uncle Bill…'
Paula jumped out of the car as a tall man climbed out from behind the wheel of the Jaguar. She ran across and hugged him.
'I've been following you, Tweed.' Franklin said over her shoulder.
Franklin was a well-built man in his forties without a trace of fat on him. He was constantly smiling, and was clean-shaven with a strong jaw and a quizzical expression. He hugged Paula, released her from his embrace.
'Such a warm welcome on a day like this. Are you and Tweed having a rare holiday? You could both do with one.'
He gave her an infectious grin. Franklin spoke slowly with a public school accent that came naturally to him. His movements were slow, giving the impression of a lazy man who never hurried. Paula knew that in his quiet way he was very active. She had always been fond of him.
'So, you've been following us,' Tweed said with mock severity. 'May I ask why?'
'You just did.' Franklin smiled warmly. 'I've been busy. For a change. Decided to take a few days off. I was driving around looking for a decent hotel and spotted you passing me at a side turning. I said to myself, I'm in need of some good company and there it is. You could have knocked me down with the proverbial feather when I saw Paula with you.'
'Well, the Priory here is a very good hotel,' Tweed replied. 'Why not stay here? When I have a minute we can talk over old times.'
'Great idea. Let me…' He took Paula's bag off her. She remembered he was always courteous and kind. Inside reception they registered and the three of them were given rooms in the main hotel.
'Tell you what.' Franklin suggested, after registering, 'why don't we dump our bags in our rooms and meet up in the lounge? I could do with a cup of coffee.'
'Black and strong as sin, you used to say,' Paula reminded him.
'Did I? But I remember you have total recall for conversations.' He smiled his slow smile again. 'So I will have to be careful what I say to you. It's a bit early in the day for me to compromise myself.'
'When you two have stopped flirting…' Tweed interjected. 'And yes, Bill, we'll meet up in the lounge. Say in five minutes?'
Well beyond Kingston Butler slowed down, stopped his Fireblade. Some distance ahead of him the cavalcade -outriders and limousine – was entering a drive between high drystone walls. As it disappeared he eased his machine forward slowly – just in time to see huge wrought-iron gates closing slowly. No sign of anyone shutting them, so he guessed they were automatically operated by remote control.
Parking his machine on a grass verge, he walked slowly up to the gates, then quickened his pace. As he passed them he saw the limousine pulling up at the end of a long curving drive beyond where it forked. He stopped, bent down as though to adjust his footwear.
The outriders gathered round the limo. A large door in the grim dark house perched on a terrace was opened. A tall man he couldn't see clearly emerged from the rear of the limo, hurried agilely up the steps, disappeared inside the house, followed by the outriders who had parked their machines and removed their helmets. They tucked them under their arms and followed the tall figure like a military escort. The door closed.
Now the gates were closed he read the two words inscribed in gold, one on each gate. Grenville Grange.
'I guessed right.' he said to himself. 'They don't seem to have noticed they have one man missing. Or maybe his job is to stand sentinel outside. I'll wait awhile and see if anything more happens, then report to Newman…'
Newman, cold and stiff from lying on the ground at the end of the wall, raised his binoculars again. At the point where the drive curved he had a glimpse of the main drive coming up from the gates, had seen the cavalcade arrive.
'Go and tell Marler to hide in the back of my Merc,' he told Philip, who was lying alongside him. 'Tell Eve to get behind the wheel of her Porsche. Warn them both we may have to be ready for instant take-off down that track over Lyman's Tout. Order Eve that she is to come behind me. No arguments from her. Our lives may be at stake.'
'Will do…'
Newman waited a few more minutes, then raised his binoculars again. A terrace ran the full length of the
