Part 12 (1/2)

He let go of the end he was holding, which she had known he would if she could bring it off. Probably break my b.l.o.o.d.y back, she thought. The chain slithered over the beam, she plunged down behind Baldy, landed on one of the many old couches lying round the warehouse floor.

Positions reversed. Now she had him in a stranglehold, the chain tight round his neck as she clamped her feet together. He was on his back, hands clawing futilely at the chain cutting off his air supply. His heels hammered at the floor. One heel-tip caught on the lever inset into the floor. The trapdoor he was sprawled along opened away from Paula. She whipped her feet apart. The ankle chain slipped up over his jaw. He was free. The trap slid downwards. Baldy let out a croaking scream. His body rushed forward, vanished into the gaping hole. Paula heard a distant splash, then silence.

Because she forced herself not to hurry, she released herself from the chain more quickly than she'd expected. She stood up off the couch, legs trembling. Cautiously she crept forward to the edge, looked down. Seeing nothing, she forced her aching limbs to take her across to the chair, took out her Browning, her torch. When she returned to the rim of the gaping hole she turned on her powerful torch. The tip of the beam just reached down to show her fast-moving water. The River Thames, she guessed. That was where she had ultimately been destined to go.

Forcing her arms into her coat, she picked up the chain, threw it down into the river. Behind her on the far wall was a closed door. She made herself walk quickly. An old key was in the lock. She had to use both bruised hands to turn it, to pull back a wooden bar. She had the Browning in her hand as she opened it and peered out. If any of Baldy's chums were waiting she was going to kill them.

She was gazing out into a deserted cobbled street, the buildings looking fit only for demolition. A wall lamp cast an eerie glow over a street sign. Eagle Street.

To her left the street ended. Beyond it flowed the Thames, with wriggling lights reflected in its dark flow. She turned right after closing the door behind her. She emerged into a wider street which reminded her of the East End. n.o.body about. A taxi came crawling along the street, its For Hire light on.

She flagged it down madly. The driver slowed, peered out to examine her. He looked surprised at her good coat and shoes, illuminated by another street light. He leaned forward.

'What's a lady like you doin' in a place like this?'

'A row with my boy friend. I just got out of his car and he drove off.'

'Better get yourself another boy friend. Where to?' 'Park Crescent, please. Facing Regent's Park.'

10.

Paula was so relieved when she saw the lights in Tweed's office windows. She had guessed he might be working late. Entering his room, she found not only Monica but also Newman and Marler. Tweed took one look at her, jumped up, went to her.

'What happened?'

'I must look the most awful mess...'

She sank down behind her desk and told them about her experience. Reaction had set in. Her voice was shaky. Hidden beneath the desk, her knees trembled. She pressed them together, forced herself to go on talking. At an early stage Tweed asked Monica to fetch plenty of sweetened tea - he recognized that Paula was in shock. Later, while Paula continued, Monica checked her hands - bruised where she had fought to hold the chain away from her neck. She brought the first aid kit, gently rubbed soothing salve on her hands, then on her neck.

Glancing at Tweed, Newman realized he was almost in a state of shock himself. Sagged in his chair, Tweed was appalled that he had let Paula go home by herself. He cursed himself for not insisting on accompanying her. At one moment, when Paula's head was turned away, he frowned at Newman and Marler, warning them not to mention the killing of the Ear. That could come later, when Paula had recovered.

'So that's it,' Paula concluded when she had described her ordeal. 'I think I'd like to go home now.'

'We'll come with you,' Tweed said instantly. 'Butler and Nield are still in the building. They will stay the night with you. I recall you have a couple of couches in the living room. Back in a minute..

Paula was protesting it wasn't necessary as he disappeared. He came back a few minutes later, accompanied by Nield and Butler. Nield went over to Paula.

'Sorry you've had such a dreadful time. We have a plan. Harry and I drive ahead of the rest of you. Could you give me the key to your flat? We'd like to go through it with a fine-tooth comb before you arrive. You don't sound too good.'

'I haven't said anything. You used that phrase instead of saying you don't look too good. Which is the case. Thank you, Pete. Here is my key.

'I think I'd like to go to the washroom. I'm filthy,' Paula said when the two men had left.

'I'll come with you,' Monica told her.

'Jake Ronstadt is behind this,' Tweed said grimly when he was alone with Newman and Marler. 'I saw a peculiar, savage expression flicker in his eyes when I was dining with Paula and she told him her name.'

'When the opportunity arises I'll break every bone in his body,' said Newman.

'For starters,' Marler suggested.

There was silence in the room until, ten minutes after Butler and Nield had left, Tweed led the way downstairs with Paula. When she had returned with Monica, Newman noticed she had used a modic.u.m of make-up and brushed her hair. Her complexion was still pallid.

They travelled back to the flat in the Fulham Road in the Merc with Newman behind the wheel. Marler sat beside him while Tweed occupied the back next to Paula. He put his arm round her, a gesture for which she was grateful. They were driving through deserted dark streets' when Newman kept glancing in his rear-view mirror.

'We're being followed,' he remarked. 'A taxi cab. I'm pulling up here. Back in a minute.'

He walked back until the cab approached him. Only the driver behind the wheel. Newman flagged him down. The driver nearly didn't stop; then changed his mind. He stared unpleasantly as Newman opened his door.

'Been in this country long?' Newman enquired, smiling.

'Sure. What's it to you?'

The accent was coa.r.s.e American. To talk to the driver Newman had run round the front of the stationary cab so he could open the door on the street side. He grabbed hold of the collar of the leather jacket the driver wore, hauled him out into the street. The American jerked away from Newman, his right hand slipping inside the jacket.

'Buddy, you sure shouldn've done that...'

He never completed his sentence. Newman's right fist collided with the American's jaw. A knockout punch. As he was sagging to the ground Newman grabbed him again, heaved his unconscious body back into his seat. Unzipping the jacket all the way, he found a gun b.u.t.t protruding from a shoulder holster. Searching in the other pocket he found an American diplomatic pa.s.sport. Switching off the engine, he extracted the key, threw it into a garden, walked back to the Merc.

'We can now proceed,' he announced, seated behind the wheel.

'So we were being followed,' Tweed commented. 'They must have bribed a cab driver.'

'No.' Newman was still checking his mirror. 'The driver was an American.' He tossed the pa.s.sport over his shoulder. 'See for yourself.'

'I wonder what happened to the real driver,' Tweed mused as he examined the pa.s.sport.

'Probably at the bottom of the Thames,' Paula said vehemently. 'Where they dump all their victims.'

'Lew Willis is the name on the pa.s.sport,' Tweed informed them. 'I think I'll phone Buchanan from Paula's flat, let him know there's a suspicious character in the cab back there. Without his pa.s.sport he'll be in a real stew...'

Butler met them at the entrance leading to the flat. Nield arrived in their car, parked it, got out. Tweed told Paula to wait in the car until he'd spoken to them. Nield was jaunty, waving a hand.

'While Harry was checking the flat I patrolled the area in search of thugs. None about anywhere. All clear. What about the flat, Harry?'

'Clean as a whistle. The flat on the ground floor seems empty. No one inside. I've closed all the curtains in Paula's flat, switched on a few lights to welcome her.'

'Thank you, Harry,' Paula said with feeling. 'The woman downstairs is away. How did you get inside? I forgot to give you the key to the second lock.'

'Used one of my skeleton keys to get inside. You can't be too careful the way things are now.'

'Breaking and entering,' Paula teased him.

'That's right. One of my main occupations. It's cold out here. Better get inside. I turned up the heating.'

Once inside, Paula insisted on making coffee for everyone. Tweed made his phone call to Buchanan. When he put down the receiver he looked at Paula, who had just poured coffee.