coffee with her.'
Later Tweed drove Paula down to Covent Garden so she could see Coral. He was careful to park in a slot before he reached her flat entrance, but at a point where he could see it. Paula had entered the place a few minutes before Tweed saw someone.
The Parrot, wearing a long coat with her hair obscured by a wide-brimmed hat, suddenly appeared and stopped on the other side of the street opposite the entrance. She opened a newspaper, pretended to read it. It was obvious to Tweed she was watching Coral's entrance. Why?
Inside, when Coral, fully dressed, had let Paula in, she had showed pleasure at the arrival of her visitor. In the living room she had offered coffee, which Paula had accepted.
'What about breakfast?' Coral asked.
'I've had some. What about yourself?'
'Finished it half an hour ago. It really is lovely to see you. Did you get my note?'
'I was just going to thank you for it,' Paula replied, seated in an armchair opposite her hostess. 'You sounded so excited. A new boyfriend? Or shouldn't I ask?'
'It's a secret. I've changed my mind about telling you. I'm sorry, but I'll let you know if it works out. Now I'll show you the rest of my safe harbour.'
Across the hall was a door leading into a fairly large bedroom. A double bed with a headboard occupied the bulk of the space. The floor was polished wood with a rug on each side where you would step out in the morning. A tasteful dressing table was perched against the far wall.
'Check the closets,' Coral urged. 'I should say wardrobes but you'll see why I used the American term.'
Paula opened one of the two double doors, which had to be pulled hard to overcome a tendency to stick. She was surprised. The depth and width of the 'closet' was spacious. She walked inside, like entering a small room. Three coats suspended on hangers caught her attention. One a camel hair, another a smart evening coat, the third a smart raincoat. Coral chuckled and gently pushed the door almost closed. A light came on inside. Coral opened the door.
'The wiring's set up the wrong way. The light should come on when you open it. I'm getting it fixed.'
'Nice coats,' Paula remarked as she stepped out.
'Expensive.'
'The new boyfriend?' Paula chaffed her.
'Not yet! My aunt married a rich man a few months ago and generously sent me a very fat cheque. I blew it on those coats.'
'You're on top of the world, then.'
'Not entirely.' Coral's expression changed.
'Why? Is anything the matter?'
'I'm bothered about a man who stalks me. I'm walking along a street and I know he's behind me. I look back and he's gone. It's bothersome.'
'Description?'
'I never see him. I just know he's there. Must sound a bit silly. Maybe I've got too much imagination. Women do sometimes get this idea in their head.' She laughed. 'It probably comes down to vanity.'
Paula studied her. The Parrot was an attractive woman but older. That could upset some women. Coral was younger and a stunner. About five feet three inches tall, she was slim and her red hair piled on top of her head was seductive. Her features were perfectly moulded: a fine forehead, her eyes large above a perfect nose and a full mouth. Yes, some older women could come to hate her.
'Do you know anything about the Parrot's earlier life?'
'She grew up in the Midlands, in some place called Walkhampton. A small industrial town, I gather. She was educated in a prep school and then passed into a grammar. She left Walkhampton when she was twenty, came down here, whipped through the civil service exam. Her parents died in a car crash soon after she'd arrived down here. After passing top in the exam she set to work – she's said this to me – to push her way up quickly, shoving other people out of the way.'
'But now she's turned friendly with you?' Paula suggested.
'She did. I told you about that. Now she's turned really nasty again. She humiliates me.' Coral mimicked the Parrot's way of speaking fast. ''Miss Flenton, I gave you these pencils to be sharpened. They've still got thick ends. I need them with needle points. Try again. Can't you do even a simple job like that properly? Your problem is you're lazy. Spend half your time thinking about men, I suspect. Men are for when you've left the building. That is, if you can find one. Well, don't just listen to me. Sharpen those damned pencils.' She's started finding fault with everything,' Coral concluded.
'Goes up and down a bit, doesn't she?'
'A friend of mine in the next department thinks she's manic. Bit strong, I thought. I suppose she based her idea on the Parrot's wild mood swings. Sorry to drop all this stuff on you. Next time we won't mention my job.'
'I'd better go now,' said Paula, standing up. 'Actually, you are always interesting. I'll come again if it suits you.'
'Please! And don't forget you've got my spare front-door key so you can come in when you want and wait for me to leave work.'
Outside, hunched down in his car, Tweed watched the door open. Paula and Coral hugged each other. Then Paula, head down in thought, walked slowly towards him.
The moment the two women appeared the Parrot took off, striding briskly in the opposite direction. Tweed opened the passenger car door and Paula slipped inside. She reported every word which had been exchanged, described the layout of Coral's flat. Tweed waited until she had finished, talking quickly, before he told her about the Parrot's vigil.
'I can't make head nor tail of that,' Paula commented.
'I can,' Tweed said as he began to drive. 'The fact that she walked off as soon as the two of you appeared tells me a lot.'
'Such as?'
'She was expecting a man to come out, a man who'd spent the night with Coral.'
'Who?'
'I just wish I knew. It doesn't help me to solve those two murders with these women at each other's throats.' He frowned. 'Or maybe it does.'
*
The Cabal were assembled round their strange three-sided table. Nelson kept moving his blotter, rearranging his pens, which showed nervousness unusual for him. The other two waited until he spoke.
'I think we've got to do something damned quickly to make those few wobbly Cabinet ministers support our draft bill to merge the security services.'
'Maybe it's time to frighten them,' Noel suggested. 'If an explosion – terrorists, of course – took place in London, that would do it.'
'In London? Where in London?' Nelson's expression was appalled. 'We must not risk any casualties.'
'In Richmond Park.'
'You must be mad,' sneered Benton, glaring through his glasses.
'Mad as a hatter,' roared Nelson.
'My intermediary,' Noel began in his soft voice, 'has found a part of Richmond Park a long way from the river. There is an entrance never used at this time of the year, on the outskirts. The only casualty, if any, will be a tree or two. It will be thought by the police the driver was taking it by a roundabout route to the populous area of the park but the bomb exploded prematurely. Panic, but no one even injured.'
'You have complete confidence in this intermediary?' demanded Nelson.
'Complete.'
It was a tactic of Noel's to invent so-called intermediaries, so no one in the room knew he was making the contacts himself.
'What do you think?' Nelson asked.
'We do need something to wake those ministers up now,' Benton suggested.
'I suppose we do.' Nelson's large fleshy face was a picture of uncertainty. 'If we all vote in favour we'll do it,'
