thought the whole idea was wrong, mad – that you'd have nothing to do with it!'
'He's a skilled politician,' Tweed told her. 'I can handle any of them. When he reports back to his two brothers they won't be at all sure what I'm going to do.'
'So what are you going to do?'
'Everything in my power, however unscrupulous, to smash them – to destroy the whole plan.' His voice was a muted growl, his eyes were fierce. 'Strange that he came to see me a few hours after someone tried to frame me for committing a horrific murder. And they're already in uniform. So he lied.'
'So he probably lied about a lot of other things.'
'Undoubtedly. Bring down Monica, Pete and Harry. When I tell you, play back the recording of the whole conversation. I don't think it occurred to him it was all going down on tape.' He looked up at the cornice in the ceiling above Paula's desk. Harry had done a marvellous job of concealing the listening device. 'And you took photos of him?'
'Several. He didn't see me doing it.' She produced a tiny camera with a long lens which retracted out of sight when she pressed a button.
She had just finished speaking when the door opened and Monica walked in, followed by Nield and Butler. Monica spoke to Tweed quickly.
'While we were upstairs I had a call for you from Professor Saafeld. He has data he wants to show you urgently. At his place in Holland Park…'
'Call him back when I've left. Tell him I'm on my way now. While I'm away get the recorder moving.' He looked at all three of the new arrivals. 'You'll hear my conversation with Macomber – Nelson Macomber. Keep what you hear under your hats.'
'Never wear a hat,' Harry told him with a straight face.
Tweed glared, went on speaking.
'Nield, when you've heard it I want you to get moving. Check with your informants. I need to know if the other two brothers, Noel and Benton, are married. If so, who to. We know Nelson is married to Loelia, daughter of the Earl of Something. Do any of them have girlfriends? If so who are they and where do they live?'
'Is that all?' Nield asked with a grin.
'I'm off to Professor Saafeld's place. Could be there for a couple of hours. Have the info for me when I get back.'
'Should give me plenty of time.' Nield grinned again. 'Don't be surprised if I'm still out when you get back.'
Tweed, still speaking rapidly, turned to Monica. 'If a Chief Inspector Hammer arrives or phones tell him I've gone abroad. You don't know where or when I'll be back. Now I must get moving.'
'I'm coming with you,' Paula said firmly.
She had already slipped on a windcheater over her slacks and jumper. Tweed stood uncertainly.
'Thought you were in a hurry,' Paula said, grabbing his arm.
Harry followed them downstairs, talking as they hurried. 'I got here early. Spotted our friends had fixed up cameras to the lampposts on the other side of the road. The cameras are difficult to see. They were aimed to cover the entrance here.'
'Were?' queried Paula.
'I covered them with black goo – same colour as their spy cameras. They'll need new lenses.'
'Don't waste much time, do they?' commented Tweed.
'Neither does Harry,' Paula replied.
The drizzle had stopped. Above was a clear blue sky and it was bitterly cold. Tweed had slipped on his overcoat as he skipped nimbly down the stairs.
They were driving through heavy traffic, approaching Holland Park, when Paula looked back again through the rear window. She swore softly.
'We're still being followed. Big black car picked us up as we left Park Crescent. Look to be two men in the front. Black coats, I think, and black peaked caps.'
'The uniform Nelson said they hadn't got round to. I'll lose them.'
Tweed slowed down as they approached traffic lights on green. He waited for amber, pressed his foot down, passed the lights as they turned red. A police car was parked by the kerb. Tweed recognized the driver, used one hand to hold up his SIS folder. The police driver saluted him.
'That was Ned,' Tweed remarked. 'He knows me well.'
'Well, you've lost our friends,' said Paula after glancing back. 'They were caught by the lights…'
Shortly afterwards Tweed swung into the side street where Saafeld's mansion was located. He drove to the end, parked the car round a corner. They walked back quickly to where a pair of high wrought-iron gates were closed at the end of a curving drive. Tweed pressed the button on the speakphone.
'Yes. Who is it?' Saafeld's clear voice enquired.
'Me,' said Tweed. 'The 'me' you're expecting.'
The electronically operated gates swung open and they walked quickly up the drive. Little time was given to allow a car to drive in, to stop the vehicle being followed. Rounding a corner of the drive bordered by evergreen shrubs the elegant mansion came into view. The massive front door was open as they mounted the steps. Saafeld, wearing a white gown closed at the neck, ushered them inside, stared at Paula as he shut and relocked the door. They were standing in a large hall with a marble floor.
'Paula,' Saafeld said gently, 'I'm not sure you want to see this.'
Knowing the drill, Tweed and Paula removed overcoat and windcheater. Saafeld slipped them over hangers, put them in one cupboard, opened another, took out white coats, white caps and two pairs of latex gloves. As they put them on quickly their host stared again dubiously at Paula. Her reaction was instant and sharp.
'I've been in there before. Stop treating me like a schoolgirl.'
Saafeld shrugged, walked to a heavy steel door, took out a key card, inserted it in the slot. The door slid open and Paula breathed in powerful disinfectant. They went down several steps to another heavy steel door which Saafeld opened.
Underground now, they followed him into a large room
37with tables of metal and gutters along each side to catch any blood which spread too far. The first two tables had corpses lying on them while white-coated assistants went about their grisly work. There were large cameras overhead and X-ray machines poised above each table, held by telescopic arms. Now there was another odour which Paula recognized, the odour of bodies that would never move again.
'Here she is, poor woman,' Saafeld said quietly.
It was unusual for him to express any emotion about what was brought into his mortuary. Paula stood very still, her palms clammy. The body of Viola Vander-Browne was lying on the table. The severed head, ashen, was placed an inch or so from the neck, coated with dried blood, now darkish brown in colour. Paula's teeth were clamped tightly behind her closed lips as she continued her survey. The severed left lower arm was also placed an inch or so below the elbow. The same applied to the right arm, to the lower limbs severed below the jagged ends of the knees. Paula found the strange sequence hideous. Saafeld seemed to read her mind. He began talking in his detached professional voice.
'This is exactly how I found the corpse on the bed at Fox Street. The killer had first slammed her naked body on to the wooden floor, by the side of the bed. I think he-'
'Why 'he'?' Paula interrupted. 'Couldn't it have been a woman?'
'You could be right, possibly,' Saafeld agreed. 'Except that after gagging her the murderer raped her. He used a condom – no traces of semen. That doesn't rule out a woman completely, if a condom pulled over one of those sex toys was used. After the rape the murderer used a sharp-bladed instrument to cut her up – a meat cleaver, I suspect. The head was severed last – severing the carotid arteries. Hence the jet of blood which covered the window.'
'Excuse me,' Tweed suggested, 'but was there a light on in the room when you arrived?'
'Yes, left on after the killer left, so when the police arrived before me the blood-covered window was very prominent. Now, I said earlier the body was found laid out on the bed. There were blade notches deep into the floor, which is how I know for certain that's where she was killed. He – or she -afterwards lifted the several pieces of the body on to the bed, created an arrangement as I have done on the table.'
