the place looked unoccupied. He pulled up when the two cars were outside the gates and safely on the road. Brazil climbed out, kept the door open, stared straight at Newman.
'If you still want that interview, I may some day feel able to oblige. I bid you a safe journey. I can say with sincerity I have enjoyed your company, brief as it has been.'
He held out his hand and Newman took it. Brazil gave him a warm smile and Newman noticed he had a strong grip. He waited a minute while Brazil made his way back up the drive with long, vigorous strides as the gates closed behind him.
A short distance along the road to Kingston, Butler stood by his Fireblade on the verge. He had removed his helmet so they would recognize him. Newman waved him on.
Butler took off on the machine, staying thirty yards or so ahead of the Mercedes with the Porsche following it. This time Butler was acting as outrider, on the lookout for any signs of an ambush. Newman could have told him there wouldn't be one. As the Mercedes rounded a long curve he called out to Marler to get up and sit in a corner while the Porsche was briefly out of sight.
'You have just met Leopold Brazil,' he told Marler as his companion settled himself in a corner.
'At least I've heard his voice. Very striking. But he didn't know you had company back here.'
'I'm perfectly sure he did know. It would be a great mistake to underestimate Brazil.' Newman warned. 'But he hasn't seen you, which is an ace up our sleeve.' 'How can he possibly know about Tweed?' 'Oh, you haven't caught on.' Newman smiled. 'I am quite sure Mr Brazil knows just about everything that is going on…'
9
In the lounge at the Priory Hotel Paula sat with Tweed as they waited for Franklin to join them. Coffee, cakes, and biscuits had been served for three people. There was no one else in the large comfortable room with French windows overlooking the spacious garden and the path leading to the Boathouse.
'Actually,' Paula whispered, 'I saw Bill Franklin in his car at the side turning where he spotted us. I didn't say anything to you because you were talking, explaining something to me.'
'Your eyes met?' Tweed queried.
'Very definitely.'
'Then maybe it was a genuine coincidence. Bill is fond of you,' he teased her.
'That's all there is to it,' she said sharply.
'I want to find out how he's spending his time nowadays since… '
He broke off as Franklin entered the room. He looked very handsome, wearing a heavyweight safari jacket and trousers. He smiled, sat next to Paula on the couch with Tweed beyond her.
'Sorry to keep you waiting. Coffee. Just what I need to wet my whistle.'
'What are you doing now, Bill?' Tweed asked immediately. 'Or are you ex-ex-Military Intelligence?'
'Now what, I wonder, does that cryptic remark imply?'
Franklin smiled, thanked Paula as she handed him a cup. He began munching a cake, leaning forward so he could see Tweed, who replied quickly.
'It means, Bill, have you gone back into Military Intelligence?'
'Now would I tell you if that were the case?' Franklin joked. 'Actually, I decided it was time I made a little money. You know how extravagant I am. Over a year ago I established a small chain of private detective agencies in Europe. They're thriving. I call the outfits by what I thought was rather an original name, Illuminations.'
'That's a very clever name,' commented Paula. 'I guess it means you find things out people are trying to conceal. You illuminate a situation.'
'Spot on.' Franklin told her. 'And with the contacts I established when I was Military Intelligence I'm doing rather well. Why don't you use me, Tweed, some time?'
'Where are you based?'
'Geneva, Paris, and Rome.'
'Must be an advantage,' Paula said between bites out of a cake, 'that you're fluent in French, German, and Italian.'
'It helps. Finding good staff was the problem.'
'What about London?' Tweed asked.
'I toyed with the idea, but there's a flock of outfits over here. I'm still thinking about it. Are you two taking a break?'
'We're down here investigating three weird murders my interest was triggered off by something odd which happened on the Continent.'
'Playing it close to the chest, as usual.' Franklin grinned at Paula. 'Getting blood out of a stone is a piece of cake compared with getting Tweed to open up.'
'You are muddling your metaphors,' Tweed pointed out.
He looked up as the proprietor appeared at the door and beckoned to him. Excusing himself, he joined the proprietor in the privacy of the hall. His host had a worried look, which was unusual.
'Sorry to interrupt your conversation, Mr Tweed, but a Chief Inspector Buchanan from Scotland Yard called here and asked me if Mr Robert Newman was staying with us. I had to say he was and this Buchanan wanted to know if he was in his room. I told him he'd gone out, that I didn't know where or for how long.'
The proprietor paused, clearly embarrassed. Tweed said nothing, gave no indication that he had heard of Newman.
'He then went on,' the proprietor continued, 'to ask me if a Mr Tweed was registered with us. I told him no - because at that moment you had not appeared. I saw no reason to tell him you had stayed with us before.'
'Thank you for telling me. We are just going out to keep an urgent appointment. And I have no idea when we'll be back.'
'I'm sorry to…'
'Think nothing of it.'
Tweed walked casually back into the lounge. Franklin was joking with Paula who looked very relaxed.
'I'm afraid we'll have to leave immediately,' Tweed told them. 'We may not be back until it's time for dinner.'
'Mind if I accompany you?' asked Franklin. 'But if it's hush-hush I'll steer clear.'
'You can come. You'll hear about what's been happening sooner or later. But I'd like us to move now…'
The wind seemed even more bitter as they crossed the cobbled yard outside and went to their cars. Franklin reached into his Jaguar, brought out a heavy fawn raincoat, which he donned. It had wide lapels and broad belt; Paula thought he looked very much a military type.
Tweed put on the new coat Paula had pushed him into buying but she felt quite comfortable in her windcheater.
'What is our destination?' Franklin called out.
'Just follow us.'
Tweed dived behind the wheel of his car, turned on the engine, and began backing at speed. He turned, headed for the small square which led into South Street.
'Where are we going, then?' Paula asked.
'Anywhere outside Wareham. Buchanan put in an appearance. Asked for Newman, then for me.'
'For you? That's strange.'
'He's very shrewd is our friend, Roy Buchanan. I think he was aiming a shot in the dark. Hang on, there's Bob coming back, with Philip in Eve Warner's Porsche on his tail. And Butler, dressed like a gangster, on a Fireblade behind them.'
Tweed pulled up in the Georgian square tucked away from South Street. Other cars were parked but no one else was about. Jumping out, Tweed ran over to Newman, who had braked.
'Don't ask any questions. Don't go near the Priory -just follow me. That's Bill Franklin in the Jaguar. He turned up unexpectedly and is coming with us. Wait a sec…'
He ran to the Porsche and Eve lowered her window. Tweed addressed Philip across her.
