is so much corruption over there I resigned.' He turned to Paula. 'You see, my father was Belgian but my mother was English. Also my wife was murdered. Before I left I tracked the killer down. I shot him dead.' He looked at her. 'I hope I do not shock you.'
'Not in the least. I'm sorry you had that experience.'
Paula found she was liking Beaurain. Seated alongside her, he had not once touched her as certain Frenchmen would have done at every opportunity. Buchanan twiddled the stem of his glass as he looked at Beaurain.
'What is your view on the disappearance of Mrs Warner?'
'Paula, excuse me, but I must answer frankly. I think she has been murdered. I hope there is not an even grimmer option.'
4
They separated when they left the Peacock. Buchanan was anxious to get back to the Yard. He had arranged for the sturdy Sergeant Abbott to drive Tweed's car back to Foxfold and it was waiting for them when they emerged into the icy night. Beaurain had said he was staying to 'continue my holiday'. He had promised to keep in touch with everyone.
'Funny sort of holiday,' Paula remarked as Tweed drove them down to the main road where they joined the route they had used coming down from London.
'I've never known Jules take a holiday,' Tweed told her. 'I think he's determined to unearth the secret of Carpford.'
'But is there a secret?'
'He seems to think so. Never known him to be wrong yet.'
The heavy meal, the warmth of the car, soon sent Paula to sleep. Her head sagged and she only woke as they were approaching Park Crescent. Tweed glanced at her.
'How did you know we'd arrived?'
'I sensed you were suddenly driving slowly. And we have a reception committee waiting for us,' she commented as they entered the Crescent.
Two cars were parked in front of the entrance to the SIS building. Newman was striding up and down, hands in the pockets of his overcoat. Characteristically, the calmer Marler was seated behind the wheel of his car, smoking. Paula checked the time. 11.15 p.m.
'We're in good time,' she remarked.
'Doubt if Newman would agree with you.' Tweed replied as the rear door was flung open and Newman jumped inside. Paula told him to close the door since all the warmth was escaping.
'Now listen closely both of you,' Newman began, his tone unusually grim. 'One of Marler's top informants, Eddie -I doubt that's his real name – insists he has important information. The trouble is he'll only talk to you, Tweed. And we had a bit of an evening of it…'
He described tersely their experiences at Belles in Soho, including his confrontation with the Afghan. Paula was frowning as he came to the end of his story. She turned round in the car.
'Taliban? I think your imagination is running away with you.'
'You'd have said the same thing if I could have predicted the attack on the World Trade Center in New York.'
'But you didn't predict it.'
'When you two have finished arguing,' Tweed interjected, 'is there a deadline for this meeting with Eddie?'
'Yes, midnight at the latest. Tweed, you can travel in my car. Marler will follow in his own transport. Paula, I suggest you wait upstairs with Monica until we get back. Monk's Alley off Covent Garden is a dangerous lonely place at this hour.'
Tweed jumped out of his car, ran over to the front passenger seat in Newman's car. He waved to Marler. Before Newman could switch on the engine Paula had darted over and climbed in the rear seat behind Tweed. She didn't mince her words.
'Bob Newman, I'm a big girl now. Dangerous? What do you think it was like in that underground mine when I found out who was the murderer who had killed five people? So, from now on…' she leaned forward and punched his shoulder '… no more lectures from you, thank you very much.'
Newman, uncertain, glanced at Tweed, who smiled.
'She's perfectly right. Let's get moving…'
London on a bitter night in February was deserted. There was hardly any other traffic and no pedestrians had ventured out. As they approached the labyrinth of small streets near Covent Garden Paula was checking her. 32 Browning by feel. Satisfied, she unbuttoned her overcoat so she could reach the weapon swiftly.
Suddenly Marler overtook them, one hand waving Newman down through his open window. Engines were switched off and Marler jumped out and ran back to them. He spoke to Newman, who had lowered his window.
'You wait here while I check the situation. Eddie might be alarmed if three of us appear. Back in a tick…'
It was a long tick. Paula saw Marler move silently in his rubber-soled shoes, then disappear down to the right. Presumably he had reached Monk's Alley. She felt impatient but this was Marler's exercise.
There were no street lights at this point. Both Marler and Newman had turned off their headlights. Paula kept looking back, gazing out of the side windows, unable to sit still. Tweed, though, was motionless, but she could tell from the angle of his head that he was keeping an eye on the rear-view mirror.
'Maybe Eddie has changed his mind,' she remarked for something to say. She didn't like the heavy silence, the lack of anyone else about.
'Relax,' was Tweed's only reply.
'You're better at sitting still, waiting.'
'You're just as good if you're on your own.'
'I've got a funny feeling about this.'
'The atmosphere round here encourages funny feelings,' Newman reassured her.
'It's more than the atmosphere. Marler is taking too long coming back to us. Maybe we'd better explore.'
'Stay exactly where you are,' Tweed ordered.
'Well, here comes Marler, moving quickly,' Newman reported. 'Probably had to reassure Eddie that he really did have Tweed waiting here.'
Marler opened the front passenger door, looked swiftly at Tweed and Newman, then glanced at Paula. He spoke quietly, without his usual jaunty drawl.
'It's not good. In fact, it's pretty bad. Eddie is dead in the alley. Not a pretty sight. Paula, wait here, lock all the doors.'
'Now you're starting it,' Paula fumed.
She opened her door and was outside almost as quickly as Tweed and Newman. She was glad she was wearing sensible shoes – the street was cobbled, an ankle-breaker. She called out.
'Isn't anyone going to lock the car doors?'
'Sorry…'
Newman and Marler used their remotes to lock the cars. With Marler leading, they hurried down the street until he stopped at the entrance to a cobbled opening only wide enough for one person to walk down. Paula noticed the ancient plaque. Monk's Alley. The figure of a monk was engraved below the name. Marler had switched on his powerful torch, beamed it just inside.
Eddie's crumpled figure lay on the cobbles, his right arm outstretched, the fingers of the hand tightly clenched. Lying on his back, he was soaked with blood. Pools of blood were spreading over the cobbles. His eyes gazed up at the sky, lifeless. Paula thought she had never before seen so much blood.
'I reckon he was stabbed more than twenty times,' Marler informed them. 'My guess is someone went on
