By Stealth

By Stealth by Colin Forbes Page B

Book: By Stealth by Colin Forbes Read Free Book Online
Authors: Colin Forbes
see Pete Nield is catching us up. I wonder what glad tidings he brings?'

    Half-way down a steep descent the anchorage came into view. The sun was shining and the basin of blue water sparkled like diamonds. It was more like a small lake but towards the Solent the river ran out between tree- shrouded banks. To the north, where it came from Beaulieu, it curved in an S-bend. Newman stopped, turned off the engine. 'I'll wait for Pete...'
    Tweed, followed by Paula, got out of the car to stretch his legs. On the river deserted yachts and power cruisers, covered with blue plastic sheeting for winter, were moored to buoys. The view was scenic but there was no sign of activity. End of the season. Nield parked his Sierra behind the Mercedes, jumped out.
    Paula, who had been wandering about, looking down at the anchorage, began walking back to Tweed.
    `Come on, Pete,' she said crisply. 'I'm not a schoolgirl any more. Let me hear the grisly details.'
    `They are grisly. The concrete mixer is still there — jammed between two trees. So are the police who told me the road was closed. They'd erected a sheet round the vehicle but a breeze blew it up. The driver who tried to kill you is set solid in concrete. They're having to use pneumatic drills to remove his unwanted overcoat.'
    `Better him than you,' Newman commented. 'What next?'
    `Paula and I will borrow your Merc. You and Pete take the Sierra down and we'll follow. Try and hire a boat to take us downriver,' Tweed suggested.
    `We're on our way …'

    Tweed parked the Mercedes behind the river front and under the lee of a large yacht propped upright by heavy wooden staves on either side. It shielded the car from easy sighting.
    `Why are we hiding?' Paula asked.
    `A Mercedes would be noticed. I'm curious about that vintage Bentley which overtook us. And that chopper I saw landing close to the river. I smell danger.'
    `From what quarter?'
    `I've no idea. But we crawled past Andover's house. The thugs who broke in may have returned and seen us through the shrubbery.'
    `Won't the police be there after your phone call?' she queried. 'Although I didn't see a patrol car.'
    `They'll have been and gone hours ago. To them it will be just another break-in. Andover probably wasn't there to inform. They'd get their pet builder to board up the front door and leave it at that.'
    `Anyone else?'
    `We also crawled past both Burgoyne's and Fanshawe's residences. Either could have spotted us, decided to follow to see what we're up to. And someone is going to drastic lengths to stop us, as we know from last night.'
    `You're trying to smoke out whoever it is,' Paula stated.
    `I would like to know the identity of the enemy. There is one — I know that from reading Andover's file and Gaston Delvaux's letter to him from Liège.'
    `And you're not going to tell me anything about either?'
    `Not yet.'
    They had been walking down a dried mud track scattered with gravel as they talked. When they came round the corner of a clump of trees and undergrowth the track led on to a walk along the river's edge. Newman was hurrying towards them with another man in his mid- thirties.
    Tall and slim, the stranger walked with an athletic stride, was well built, clean shaven, and had an aquiline nose. He wore denims and trainers. Paula was relieved by his working clothes, his pea-jacket. She was clad in denims thrust inside knee-length gumboots and a padded windcheater.
    `He's good looking,' she whispered to Tweed, 'and he knows it.'
    `A piece of luck,' Newman called out as the two men came close. 'This is an old acquaintance of mine. Mordaunt, freelance journalist. He's agreed to take us for a spin on the river.'
    Tweed made introductions, using first names only, omitting to mention himself. Mordaunt made a beeline for Paula, holding out a large strong hand. His voice was upper crust.
    `I say the day is improving no end. Welcome to Buckler's Hard, Paula. I've just been putting my boat to bed. A small yacht. Spend as much time down

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