'Your remark about Falkirk. To my mind, his story fitted just a little too precisely. Almost as though he'd rehearsed it in advance.'
TWENTY FOUR
The dining room was quiet. Few tables were occu pied. Archie was at a table inside a secluded alcove. He waved. As they sat on either side of him he took a package nicely wrapped out of a pocket of his tropical drill jacket, handed it to Paula.
'I have never thanked you for saving my life up on the moor. Otherwise I wouldn't be here tonight. Just a small gift.'
She opened it below the table, peeled off gold paper, removed green paper below, exposing an expensive leather case. Taking a deep breath, she unfastened the case and gasped.
Inside was a watch, its band and the watch itself studded with diamonds. Keeping it below the table she showed it to Tweed, turning to Archie.
'This is so beautiful – but it's far too much…'
'No more than you deserve,' Tweed commented with a smile.
'Thank you so much,' she said to Archie, 'but I can't accept it.'
'Yes, you can,' Archie responded. 'The diamonds are fake. But don't consult it in the streets of London.'
He waved to a waiter he had told to come over only when he summoned him. By this time Tweed had helped Paula fasten the present to her slim wrist and she had pushed it up her sleeve out of sight. Menus were studied, orders placed.
'I'm still stunned,' Paula said as she studied the menu.
She looked at Archie. He really was a big man with a wide chest, a large head, a neat moustache and long thick hair. In some ways he reminded her of pictures she'd seen of prophets of the Old Testament. This impression was countered by the frequent warm smile of his thick lips. He looked back.
'You'll know me next time, won't you?' He chuck led.
The three-course dinner was so good they ate almost in silence. Talk would have ruined their savour ing the chef's excellent food. Then Archie signalled the waiter, who brought over a bottle he carried with extra care. Tweed stared at the label.
'Archie, that's the king of clarets. Costs a fortune!'
'Sip it first,' he advised. 'Now I'll tell you why we are here. About Black Gorse Moor…'
From a canvas satchel perched on the seat beyond
Paula, Archie lifted out a tightly capped plastic canis ter. Paula had seen him clutching it when she'd hauled him out of the hellhole. He first used large serviettes to create a concealing cloth tent. The table had already been cleared except for their glasses.
On their side of the 'tent' he placed the canister. He looked at Paula.
'Tell me what you see.'
'Four different levels of dissimilar liquids, separated by thick glass dividers.'
'An excellent start. Go on.'
'Bottom level is black as pitch, very murky. The level above is less dark with bits floating in it. Still pretty murky. How am I doing?'
'Fine so far. Now go on!' he urged.
'The liquid in the third level is lighter, but still very murky. The top level,' she concluded, 'is the purest brown-black. Almost has an oily texture -'
'Not almost,' Archie broke in. 'It is oil – of the finest quality, once treated in a refinery. Black Gorse Moor is sitting on top of endless deposits of oil. Forget Texas. I calculate there's at least enough oil there to last all Great Britain's needs for the next hundred years at least. We can forget Saudia Arabia and the rest of the OPEC blackmailers. How is the claret?'
TWENTY FIVE
After more valuable conversation with Archie, Tweed left the table and headed with Paula for the garage. Once inside he sat behind the wheel and stared ahead without moving.
'Billions and billions, Archie said the moor is worth, and Neville Guile offers Bullerton one million. He must have been furious when Archie sent him a phoney report by courier – and returned the huge fee Guile had paid him.'
'Which is why he tried to kill Archie on the moor. He spotted the fake. We'll now drive over to Hobart House. I want a word with Lord Bullerton.'
'He'll be asleep at this hour,' she protested.
'No, he won't. He told me he catnaps, then comes downstairs again and plays a game of chess against himself.'
She kept quiet until they reached the turn-off at the beginning of the Village. She leaned forward and chuckled.
'First time I've seen Mrs Grout not scrubbing her steps.'
As they approached the hole in the hedge Harry appeared, his arms waving.
'No trouble so far. Earlier there were couriers from London.'
'We know about them. Stay put. Very much on guard.'
'How else would I do that job!'
Most of the lights were still on in Hobart House. Mrs Shipton, dressed in a coat to go out, opened the door. Her hat was tilted slightly to the right. A woman in a hurry.
'What on earth do you want?' she demanded. 'At this hour!'
'To see Lord Bullerton,' Tweed replied. 'I under stand he has a catnap, then comes down to play chess against himself.'
'Library.'
'Just a moment. Where on earth are you going at this hour?'
'None of your damned business.' She paused. 'This is the only time I can drive round and enjoy the fresh air. All the skivvies are out of the place long ago. Everything is ready for the morning. Anything else for your case book?'
On which note she turned to leave. But Tweed wasn't finished with her yet. He called down the steps.
'I see there's an unmarked police car parked behind yours…'
'Observant, aren't we?' She clutched her Gucci handbag under one arm. 'Sergeant Marden has arrived with Lizbeth. Since his Lordship was asleep, they went straight up to her suite. Marden has excel lent manners – better than some police officers I could name.'
She slipped behind the wheel of a brand-new Renault, slammed the door shut. She drove too fast up the winding road to the lane. Tweed turned to find Lance standing in the doorway. He made an off-hand gesture, looking out at the night rather than his visi tors.
'The library,' he said in a superior tone.
'We know,' Tweed snapped, brushing past him.
This is getting to be familiar territory, Paula thought as Tweed knocked politely, turned the handle and descended the steps. In his smoking jacket Bullerton sat crouched over a table occupied by a chess game in progress. He frowned.
'My dear chap, welcome. And also to you, Paula. The frown was my being puzzled by the state of the game. Join me for a few moves, Tweed?'
He waited patiently while Tweed toured the board, checking it from all angles. Sitting opposite Bullerton, he moved one of his pawns. Bullerton looked perplexed.
