reverses the knife and uses the serrated edge to saw halfway through the spine. So the skull remains attached to the body.'
'Someone with anatomical knowledge?' Tweed enquired.
'Don't think so. After he completed the killing process he used the knife to savage the flesh, randomly removing chunks.' He shone his torch down inside the shaft. Piled up in a corner were small transparent bags. 'See those?'
'What's inside them?' Paula asked without much enthusiasm.
'Bits of decomposing flesh. If the bodies had been dumped anywhere else there wouldn't be a shred of flesh surviving.'
'Why here then?' Paula prodded.
'Because this is Dartmoor.' Saafeld swept a hand round over the landscape. 'It's like a refrigerator in winter - and the recent winter has been exceptionally cold. I've put ice in those bags you were looking down at - to preserve the remains until I get back to Holland Park.'
Paula had been aware that Buchanan had been standing close to them. He hadn't moved or said a word, but had simply listened. Now he placed a hand on Tweed's arm, nodded for him to come with him. Paula stayed with Saafeld, sensing Buchanan had something to say to Tweed he didn't want anyone else to hear.
'When I dumped the Michael amnesia business on you,' the chief superintendent began quietly, 'I had no idea it was going to turn into this. A search which may never end. For a maniac.'
'A psychotic, possibly,' replied Tweed.
'What's the difference?'
'You know as well as I do, Roy. A psychotic can appear to be quite normal for long periods. Then the mood and the opportunity come together. He starts a killing spree.'
'What I'm saying, Tweed, is I can root round the Yard and hand the case over to someone else.'
'I don't think so,' Tweed said quietly. 'This case has got a hold on me. Besides which, I have information, know people up in that house perched on the ridge. Any idea who owns it? Thought not. Drago Volkanian.'
'The armaments and supermarket king?'
'Yes. Which reminds me, I must try and locate their plant where the arms are produced. It will probably be hidden away.'
'So you're determined to carry on with this case?'
'Yes, I am. I'm ahead of anyone else who might take it over — knowing some of the family. A new man might not be accepted by them.'
'In that case,' Buchanan sighed, 'I'll give you the one item we found on Michael when we searched him to try to identify who he was.' He took out an envelope and extracted from it a folded sheet of paper, which he handed to Tweed.
'It's just a list of four typed names and, presumably, all first names. I suspect it could be the devil of a job tracing them. I wonder what it means,' Tweed mused.
'I agree.' Buchanan grinned. 'You've taken the case on so that will be your problem. Incidentally, that's your car parked down the track in Post Lacey. You don't want to have to slog it back to that house. I'll get Warden to drive you.'
'Would be a help,' Tweed agreed.
Warden, obviously glad of the chance to leave the moor and the horrors found there, assured Tweed his injured arm had not affected his ability to drive. Tweed and Paula sat in the back and relaxed.
Beyond the southern outskirts of Post Lacey, Warden turned to the right, away from the route that had brought them to Dartmoor. Warden looked at Tweed in his rear-view mirror.
'I know the quickest route back to where you want to get.'
'Fair enough.' Tweed closed his eyes and appeared to fall asleep. Paula also felt drowsy, but later sat up as Warden turned the car right on to a country lane. She opened her mouth to say something, then desisted as Tweed placed his finger over her lips. They soon started to climb and she realized they were recrossing the moor. Arriving at a main road Warden drove across it into another wide gorse-lined lane. She gripped Tweed's arm, whispered.
'He's just crossed the B3212. Isn't Abbey Grange somewhere close to that? It's perched on the side of it. The rear wall at the back of the mansion is just
'Someone with anatomical knowledge?' Tweed enquired.
'Don't think so. After he completed the killing process he used the knife to savage the flesh, randomly removing chunks.' He shone his torch down inside the shaft. Piled up in a corner were small transparent bags. 'See those?'
'What's inside them?' Paula asked without much enthusiasm.
'Bits of decomposing flesh. If the bodies had been dumped anywhere else there wouldn't be a shred of flesh surviving.'
'Why here then?' Paula prodded.
'Because this is Dartmoor.' Saafeld swept a hand round over the landscape. 'It's like a refrigerator in winter - and the recent winter has been exceptionally cold. I've put ice in those bags you were looking down at - to preserve the remains until I get back to Holland Park.'
Paula had been aware that Buchanan had been standing close to them. He hadn't moved or said a word, but had simply listened. Now he placed a hand on Tweed's arm, nodded for him to come with him. Paula stayed with Saafeld, sensing Buchanan had something to say to Tweed he didn't want anyone else to hear.
'When I dumped the Michael amnesia business on you,' the chief superintendent began quietly, 'I had no idea it was going to turn into this. A search which may never end. For a maniac.'
'A psychotic, possibly,' replied Tweed.
'What's the difference?'
'You know as well as I do, Roy. A psychotic can appear to be quite normal for long periods. Then the mood and the opportunity come together. He starts a killing spree.'
'What I'm saying, Tweed, is I can root round the Yard and hand the case over to someone else.'
'I don't think so,' Tweed said quietly. 'This case has got a hold on me. Besides which, I have information, know people up in that house perched on the ridge. Any idea who owns it? Thought not. Drago Volkanian.'
'The armaments and supermarket king?'
'Yes. Which reminds me, I must try and locate their plant where the arms are produced. It will probably be hidden away.'
'So you're determined to carry on with this case?'
'Yes, I am. I'm ahead of anyone else who might take it over — knowing some of the family. A new man might not be accepted by them.'
'In that case,' Buchanan sighed, 'I'll give you the one item we found on Michael when we searched him to try to identify who he was.' He took out an envelope and extracted from it a folded sheet of paper, which he handed to Tweed.
'It's just a list of four typed names and, presumably, all first names. I suspect it could be the devil of a job tracing them. I wonder what it means,' Tweed mused.
'I agree.' Buchanan grinned. 'You've taken the case on so that will be your problem. Incidentally, that's your car parked down the track in Post Lacey. You don't want to have to slog it back to that house. I'll get Warden to drive you.'
'Would be a help,' Tweed agreed.
Warden, obviously glad of the chance to leave the moor and the horrors found there, assured Tweed his injured arm had not affected his ability to drive. Tweed and Paula sat in the back and relaxed.
Beyond the southern outskirts of Post Lacey, Warden turned to the right, away from the route that had brought them to Dartmoor. Warden looked at Tweed in his rear-view mirror.
'I know the quickest route back to where you want to get.'
'Fair enough.' Tweed closed his eyes and appeared to fall asleep. Paula also felt drowsy, but later sat up as Warden turned the car right on to a country lane. She opened her mouth to say something, then desisted as Tweed placed his finger over her lips. They soon started to climb and she realized they were recrossing the moor. Arriving at a main road Warden drove across it into another wide gorse-lined lane. She gripped Tweed's arm, whispered.
'He's just crossed the B3212. Isn't Abbey Grange somewhere close to that? It's perched on the side of it. The rear wall at the back of the mansion is just
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