`This is great!' Crystal called out as she leaned close to both of them. 'Escape from Belmarsh!' her voice was normal: buoyant and bubbling.
Paula twisted round. Crystal's flaming thick red hair was neatly brushed. She was clad in a riding jacket zipped up to her long neck, jodhpurs tucked into riding boots. Her wide mouth with full scarlet lips was open, exposing her sharp little teeth. She pulled a face at Paula before asking her question.
`Looks like we're headed for Gladworth. We are? Goody. I have loads of shopping to do. Why are you going there?' she demanded, sagging back in her seat.
Girl can't keep still a minute, Paula thought.
`We are also going in to Gladworth to do some shopping,' Paula replied.
`I'm going to sleep till we get there,' Crystal said. Newman closed the window separating the two compartments. The glass was soundproof.
A moment later a courier on a motorcycle appeared from behind them. He slowed alongside Newman's window and Newman halted the Merc.
`Sorry to bother you,' the courier began. `I'm looking for a Hengistbury Manor. Can you help?'
`You came past it,' Newman told him. 'Turn round,
go back about three miles. Keep an eye open for tall wrought-iron gates on your right. You may have to use the speaker-phone.'
`Thanks a lot, guy.'
`He'll have the will,' Paula whispered as they drove on.
'We'll miss the fireworks. Any idea who inherits?' `Not a clue. Bella was a wily lady.'
`Expect there'll be a queue on the terrace when he arrives,' Newman mused.
`Lavinia will take charge. See it reaches Tweed first. He has already spoken to her.'
`All that money. All that greed,' Newman mused again.
Way of the world.'
`And they're all being paid huge salaries, I'm sure,' Newman remarked.
`People always want more, more, more.'
`I don't,' he protested. 'That book gave me all I need.' `They should put you in a museum. The Man Who
Doesn't Want More. It's why you're so contented. I've noticed.'
`Did you notice we had hardly any talk from Warner Chance?'
`Another contented man. Just a minute. I could be so wrong.'
Why?' Newman asked.
He never got a reply. They suddenly emerged from the dark tunnel hemmed in by massive firs on both sides and their dense branches overhead into the village of Gladworth. The sun was blazing and a few shoppers strolled the pavements.
Driving slowly towards them was a brown Ford. The driver had a deerstalker hat pulled down over his face, and was clad in country clothes which helped him to merge into the atmosphere of a country town. Max pulled into the kerb and watched the Merc, waiting.
*
*
*
Patiently, he observed. Newman had parked in front of a hardware shop. Attached to its window was a notice. Climbing Equipment For Your Swiss Holiday. He saw Newman going into the shop, a man easily recognized from pictures he'd seen in the papers when an article of his in Le Monde had been published while he was in Paris. A few days ago, he'd taken his picture secretly when he'd left the Park Crescent building.
He was startled to see Paula Grey by Newman's side. He recalled his encounter with her in the upmarket Mayfair pub. Who the third passenger was he had no idea. She was a ravishingly attractive girl with long red hair, but it was Newman who excited Max. His victim had come to him.
Inside the shop Newman had bought a canvas bag with a strap he could sling over his shoulder. He began to collect pitons, two small strong hammers, a pair of climbing shoes.
`What do you want all that clobber for?' Paula demanded. 'You're not really going to climb Pike's Peak, are you?'
`I caught a glimpse of it as we passed Pegworth Lane. I feel like having a go.'
`Don't be so stupid,' she snapped.
Annoyed, she crossed to the pharmacy section, bought a bottle of toilet water. Crystal peered over her shoulder to see what she was purchasing. A faint whiff of Chanel drifted into Paula's nostrils. As she reached inside her windcheater for her purse, Crystal drifted away and she was joined by Newman. Instead of her purse she brought out a folded sheet of cartridge paper, her original sketch of the man who had lured her to the pub in Mayfair. She showed it to Newman.
`We'll know him if we ever see him again.'
`I will. I studied the photocopy you gave me...'
Reluctantly she followed Newman as he crossed the High Street. Behind them was a clatter of running feet. Crystal was coming with them. No pedestrians anywhere in Gladworth now. They walked down Pegworth Lane, a narrow cobbled street lined on both sides with old stone terraced houses. No one about. Paula found the heavy silence was getting on her nerves.
Beyond Pegworth Lane was a track, even narrower, hemmed in by trees and undergrowth. Ahead loomed the sheer side of Pike's Peak. Paula moved ahead, then called back.
`This looks like the tricky side you don't attempt.'
Crystal rushed past her. She had lifted the flap of Newman's shoulder bag, had grabbed a hammer and several pitons.
`I've climbed worse than this in Italy,' she shouted.
Agilely, she clawed her way up a good sixty feet. Then she inserted a piton and used the hammer. Newman had rushed forward to stand below her. Crystal hammered away. The rock she was endeavouring to drive the piton into crumbled. The piton dropped to the base. `No good,' Crystal called down. 'Crumbles like glass...'
Then she lost her grip, came tumbling down. Newman had his arms held out, legs braced. He grasped her firmly round the waist, lowered her to the ground.
`No good,' she said breathlessly. 'At least I tried.' `We're going back into Gladworth now,' Paula said, grasping Crystal by the arm.
Left by himself, Newman wandered round to the easy side. He stopped as he saw a tall heavily built man who had pushed his deerstalker hat over the back of his head — with his left hand. In his right he held a deadly 7.65 mm Luger, aimed at Newman. Magazine capacity eight rounds. The bullet chipped off a tiny sliver of rock as Newman dodged behind the sheer wall. He reached for his Smith & Wesson, realized that in the rush he'd left it in its holster in a locked cupboard in his apartment.
`Take the high ground, soldier,' Max called out in a sneer.
`You'd never reach the summit, you braggart,' Newman shouted back.
He had immediately recognized Max from Paula's sketch and was counting on the bravado he'd observed in his face. He heard the assassin clawing his way up the easy side, heading for the summit. Newman took a deep breath, threw away his shoulder bag, began clawing his own way up, seeking firm handholds, footholds,
He found that he was usually able to detect brittle rock, to avoid it. There was more tough, well-embedded rock than he'd expected. He
had
to reach the summit before the killer, who had the easier climb. But Newman had conquered the Eiger and this gave him caution as well as confidence.
`Don't look down!' he kept repeating to himself.
He didn't look up either, zigzagging his way up the smooth cone. It already felt colder, which told him he had gained a lot of height. Systematically he tested each handhold, each foothold, before trusting it. One false move and he knew he was already high enough for a fall to kill him. The worrying thing was he didn't know how his antagonist was progressing.
`Bob, you're nearly there...' Paula's voice, echoing a long distance away: but her message was clear.
He was higher up, nearer the summit than his enemy. Paula, brought back by the sound of the single shot, had rushed to the base of Pike's Peak. Circling it, she had seen how high the killer had reached, then run round to find Newman.
The realization sent a fresh flow of energy through him. He increased the pace of his climb, still testing each new hand- and foothold carefully. He was moving up faster. When he glanced up he had a shock — he was almost at the summit.
Suddenly, both hands gripping the lip of rugged rock, he peered over. The summit was a flat platform, about twenty yards in diameter. He hauled himself over and onto it. He would have given anything to lie there, to catch his breath.
Instead he forced himself to crawl a foot back from the rim, listening. He came to a point where he heard agonized movements below. He resisted the temptation to look over the edge. He had no weapon to defend himself. The killer might well still have his Luger. He looked round the plateau for a sizeable rock he could hurl down. No loose rocks.
Then he noticed the summit was littered with rock dust. He used both hands to scoop up a large pile. As he finished, a pair of hands appeared close to where he lay, gripping the rim. The left hand disappeared momentarily, the killer holding on by his right hand and, presumably a firm foothold. The hand reappeared.
Holding the Luger. The muzzle was wobbling madly.
The killer was trying to do two things at once with his right hand, grip the rim and hold on to the weapon. With a lurching heave more of the killer came into view, his sweating face, the image of Paula's charcoal sketch. Newman, who had moved closer, reacted.
He threw the rock dust, aiming for the eyes. A cloud of dust blotted out the face. Panicking, the killer let go with his right hand to clear his eyes. Then he lost all control. His body began plunging down. Peering over the edge Newman saw the body diving down, turn once in a somersault, then hit the ground. He lay very still.
Paula had seen the body hurtling down, had run back to avoid being hit. Then she ran forward to where the killer lay without a sign of life. She bent over him. Blood was flowing from the back of his head, from his back, from his legs, now misshapen. She felt his carotid pulse. He was still alive.
He opened one eye, stared up at her with an expression of disbelief. He opened his mouth. Nothing came out. He opened it again.
'You.. ' His voice was hoarse and she had to bend closer to hear what he was trying to say. `Beaut... iful sight... for a man... to see last..
`Don't try to talk,' she said. 'You could be all right' `Not this... time. Must warn... you. Calouste.. `What about Calouste?' she said gently.
`Find bastard at... Heather Cottage... Fif... Fifteen miles... this side... of... Leaminster... plans kill... you all...'
The eye which had opened closed, and he seemed to sag further back. Again she checked his pulse. Nothing. He was gone.
She could hear faint sounds of Newman descending the easy side. She couldn't bear to watch him coming down. She had too clear a memory of the killer falling She stayed where she was, hoping to Heaven Crystal would remain in Gladworth shopping. She was so bemused she never heard Newman's footsteps. She jumped when he put his arms round her.
`Take it easy,' he said quietly. 'It's all over.'
`No it isn't,' she burst out as she swung round. Tersely she told him what the dead killer had told her.
`In that case we'd better get back to Tweed, let him know. Mind you don't step back.'
She looked down. A few feet from them was a ravine about a yard wide, seeming bottomless. Paula had not noticed it because the ground was all the same colour. She looked at Newman.
`That could be a big problem.'
`Certainly would be if that Inspector Tetworth was around, or whatever his name was — the policeman who stopped you and Tweed where the digger driver tried to kill you. You go back into the village, find Crystal, wait for me in the car. I've got to collect the piton and hammer Crystal dropped.
`Well, the sooner Tweed knows Calouste is in the area, where he is...'
`So what are you waiting for? Go and find Crystal.'
He waited until she had run out of sight down the track. He put on a pair of gloves, bent down, avoiding
the blood, took hold of the corpse, rolled it to the edge of the ravine. He heaved it over, listened for it to hit bottom. No sound at all. The killer's Luger was lying a few feet away. He used his foot to kick it over the edge, listened. It seemed like minutes before he heard the distant clang of metal striking rock. The ravine was frighteningly deep.
Picking up Crystal's piton and hammer, he tucked them inside his shoulder bag. He glanced round carefully. No trace of anyone having been there. He hurried back to the car, where Paula was standing.