The Savage Gorge by Colin Forbes Page B

members of the Fishers' Club. I've further instructed Bob Newman to include among the more lethal equipment fishing rods and tackle. They're waiting now for your signal to hurtle up here.'
    'Excellent organization. What I don't know is where the team will be located to counter Lepard's thugs.'
    'Another leaf out of the Cromwellian book. They will occupy positions up a series of three flights of steps to our right as we drive back to the hotel. Most residences I found were empty. These wealthy people take early holidays.'

'Let's get back, then,' Tweed suggested, walking towards Marler's Saab, parked next to Tweed's Audi.

'One vital factor you should be warned about. Newman found out that one of Lepard's men is bring ing him a bazooka. One round from that hitting your Audi and, despite armoured plate and armoured glass, your vehicle will go up in flames.'

'This is not on,' Paula said vehemently just before they climbed into their transport.

'Our team,' Marler assured her, 'scattered along those steps, have a clear view of all the caves. It will be up to me to spot the man with the bazooka and before the team opens fire to kill him stone cold dead.'

'It's too much of a risk to Tweed,' she snapped.
    'All our previous operations have involved risk,' Tweed said.

'Not as suicidal as this one,' she snapped again.
    'Marler,' suggested Tweed, to change the subject, 'I think it would be wiser if we were not seen together. Maybe you could drive back to the Nag's Head now and we'll start in just a few minutes.'
    'All great minds,' Marler said cheerfully. 'I was just about to suggest the same thing myself. And whenever our team is summoned urgently from Park Crescent by you I shan't say one word . . .'

They had waited five minutes for Marler to get clear. Paula was staring upriver. The whole of that area north of Gunners Gorge had been obscured by mist. Now a breeze had dispersed it and she could see a long way. She tugged Tweed's sleeve.

'Look at that. An old iron bridge. It must link Ascot Way with the High Street. I did see a girl riding a horse heading up Ascot Way. I wondered how she'd reach the hunting country on our side.'

'Now you know,' he said without interest as they climbed in into the Audi. Tweed began driving down the track, turning right as they entered the High Street.

'Why did you send Marler off ahead of us?' she began. 'I've the odd suspicion you had another motive.'
    'Can't keep anything from you.' He sighed. 'You are right. Remember that business card Archie MacBlade tucked into my pocket in the hall of the Nag's Head?'

'I do.'
    'He urged me to visit a Mr Hartland Trent. Said he was trustworthy. Trent could be just the man to tell us what is really going on in this strange town.'

    ELEVEN

    Tweed parked the Audi several flights below Primrose Steps. No point in advertising who he was going to visit. He ran up the flight with Paula by his side. He realized all the expensive, well-designed houses were built of grim dark grey granite.
    Twinkle Cottage was high up the flight, more than halfway. He hammered twice with the large brass knocker. The heavy door swung inward. He glanced at Paula, who already had her Browning in her hand. He slipped out his own weapon, pushed open the well-oiled door.
    He did not call out as so often happens in films. Anyone might be waiting inside. He walked slowly in on the wall-to-wall carpet. He listened. No sound of anyone. With Paula close behind him he continued until he reached a partly opened door on his right. He
    pushed it open a little more into a spacious living room.

'My God!' he said under his breath.
    'What is it?' whispered Paula, who had acute hear ing.

'I think we have found Mr Hartland Trent.'
    The body was full length on a table whose green baize was covered with blood. Tweed gently felt a neck artery, shook his head. He then felt the face and shoulder.
    'No good,' he said to Paula. 'He's dead. But the warmth of the body suggests the murder was com mitted not so