gun,' snapped Tweed.
It was an order. Paula obeyed without hesitation, handing him the Browning. Tweed jumped out of the car, walked slowly back towards the wrecked arch, keeping to the grass verge, to the blackness at the edge of the road, holding the gun by his side.
Paula followed at a distance. She picked up a fallen heavy branch as a weapon. Better than nothing. Tweed approached cautiously, his rubber-soled shoes making no sound on the grass. As he came close he gripped the Browning in both hands.
One headlight was out. Its mate was buckled, swivelled round by a huge branch from the fallen oak. By some freak chance it was still functioning and its glaring light shone on the battered cab. By its glow Tweed saw the driver's head, compressed into the neck, the dark glasses still in place.
The head was covered with a heavy mould of cement, exposing only the face. Tweed saw that in the cold night air the cement was solidifying quickly. The driver was entombed in a thick coating of his own cement. Tweed didn't envy the men who would have to attempt to recover the corpse.
`He's dead,' Tweed said as he heard Paula behind him. `Obvious remark of the year, I'd have thought. Well, it was him or us,' she said coldly.
`No good trying to find some identification. It's all sealed in with the body. And no name on what's left of the machine.'
`Do we report it?' she asked.
`No. Too many awkward questions to answer. Where we had just come from.' He looked at her, put his arm round her slim waist as she shivered. 'You know, I think you've had enough for one day. Sleep back at Passford House is what you need.'
`I am dropping,' she admitted.
5
The following morning Tweed held a 'council of war'.
They were all assembled in his large bedroom, which was practically a suite, on the first floor at the front. Room 2 overlooked a green lawn with a car park to the right and open green fields beyond. Tweed stood staring out of the window as Paula settled herself in a comfortable armchair and Newman perched himself on one of the arms.
`I like this place,' Tweed mused. 'Excellent service. That was a marvellous English breakfast. The staff is helpful, the surroundings luxurious. It's so peaceful and yet we're only a two-mile drive from Lymington.'
`I certainly appreciate it after yesterday,' Paula said with feeling.
`So when are we going to discuss the events of last evening?' Newman asked impatiently.
`Now.' Tweed snapped himself out of his reverie. He sat in another armchair, facing them. 'So tell us what happened to you, Bob. You've heard about what we experienced.'
`I followed Andover and he drove straight to the Chief Constable's house outside Brockenhurst. A patrol car was in the drive. Andover stayed exactly an hour.'
`During which he undoubtedly heard all about the death of Harvey Boyd,' Tweed ruminated. 'Since he carries clout he probably fended them off from visiting him.'
`He then drove straight back to his house. Which was when I confirmed something I'd suspected on the way out to Brockenhurst. He was also followed there and back by some character in a Land-Rover. Before you ask, no, I couldn't get the vehicle's registration number. It was obscured by mud.'
`I find that intriguing,' Tweed reflected. 'It suggests Andover is under total surveillance by someone. Did the Land-Rover driver spot you?'
`You think you're dealing with an amateur?' Newman snapped. 'The answer is no. I didn't follow Andover's Rover as soon as it appeared. I tracked it at a distance since he was on the road which could take him to Brockenhurst. The Land-Rover tagged him soon after he'd left Prevent . Drove out of an entrance to a field.'
`And yet the whole house is bugged,' Paula remarked.
`Which is why I used the phrase total surveillance,' Tweed told her. 'Now let's list what has happened. Oh, Bob, why did you drive down here to join me? Welcome and all that, but why?'
Newman looked uncomfortable. He carefully didn't look at Paula as he
It was an order. Paula obeyed without hesitation, handing him the Browning. Tweed jumped out of the car, walked slowly back towards the wrecked arch, keeping to the grass verge, to the blackness at the edge of the road, holding the gun by his side.
Paula followed at a distance. She picked up a fallen heavy branch as a weapon. Better than nothing. Tweed approached cautiously, his rubber-soled shoes making no sound on the grass. As he came close he gripped the Browning in both hands.
One headlight was out. Its mate was buckled, swivelled round by a huge branch from the fallen oak. By some freak chance it was still functioning and its glaring light shone on the battered cab. By its glow Tweed saw the driver's head, compressed into the neck, the dark glasses still in place.
The head was covered with a heavy mould of cement, exposing only the face. Tweed saw that in the cold night air the cement was solidifying quickly. The driver was entombed in a thick coating of his own cement. Tweed didn't envy the men who would have to attempt to recover the corpse.
`He's dead,' Tweed said as he heard Paula behind him. `Obvious remark of the year, I'd have thought. Well, it was him or us,' she said coldly.
`No good trying to find some identification. It's all sealed in with the body. And no name on what's left of the machine.'
`Do we report it?' she asked.
`No. Too many awkward questions to answer. Where we had just come from.' He looked at her, put his arm round her slim waist as she shivered. 'You know, I think you've had enough for one day. Sleep back at Passford House is what you need.'
`I am dropping,' she admitted.
5
The following morning Tweed held a 'council of war'.
They were all assembled in his large bedroom, which was practically a suite, on the first floor at the front. Room 2 overlooked a green lawn with a car park to the right and open green fields beyond. Tweed stood staring out of the window as Paula settled herself in a comfortable armchair and Newman perched himself on one of the arms.
`I like this place,' Tweed mused. 'Excellent service. That was a marvellous English breakfast. The staff is helpful, the surroundings luxurious. It's so peaceful and yet we're only a two-mile drive from Lymington.'
`I certainly appreciate it after yesterday,' Paula said with feeling.
`So when are we going to discuss the events of last evening?' Newman asked impatiently.
`Now.' Tweed snapped himself out of his reverie. He sat in another armchair, facing them. 'So tell us what happened to you, Bob. You've heard about what we experienced.'
`I followed Andover and he drove straight to the Chief Constable's house outside Brockenhurst. A patrol car was in the drive. Andover stayed exactly an hour.'
`During which he undoubtedly heard all about the death of Harvey Boyd,' Tweed ruminated. 'Since he carries clout he probably fended them off from visiting him.'
`He then drove straight back to his house. Which was when I confirmed something I'd suspected on the way out to Brockenhurst. He was also followed there and back by some character in a Land-Rover. Before you ask, no, I couldn't get the vehicle's registration number. It was obscured by mud.'
`I find that intriguing,' Tweed reflected. 'It suggests Andover is under total surveillance by someone. Did the Land-Rover driver spot you?'
`You think you're dealing with an amateur?' Newman snapped. 'The answer is no. I didn't follow Andover's Rover as soon as it appeared. I tracked it at a distance since he was on the road which could take him to Brockenhurst. The Land-Rover tagged him soon after he'd left Prevent . Drove out of an entrance to a field.'
`And yet the whole house is bugged,' Paula remarked.
`Which is why I used the phrase total surveillance,' Tweed told her. 'Now let's list what has happened. Oh, Bob, why did you drive down here to join me? Welcome and all that, but why?'
Newman looked uncomfortable. He carefully didn't look at Paula as he
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