Read Online Cell by Colin Forbes - Free Book Online

'Have I got Carpford reasonably accurate?'
    Paula leaned over Beaurain to study the drawing. She was amazed at how quickly Tweed had worked. Carp Lake was the centre piece. Around it he had drawn Garda, Warner's strange Italianate property; Drew Franklin's con crete blockhouse; Agatha Gobble's Cotswold cottage; Pere grine Palfry's round house and Margesson's Georgian hor ror.
    'You missed your vocation,' Beaurain told him. 'You should have been an artist. Incredibly accurate. Now draw in two bungalows, well spaced apart, here, south of Margesson's house.'
    Tweed drew two small oblongs where Beaurain's fingers had indicated. He looked up at Paula.
    'I remember passing these before we met Buchanan again. I thought that, like every other dwelling, they were out of place.'
    'In the first one lives a man called Billy Hogarth, like the painter. In the last one resides Martin Hogarth, the brother of Billy. They hate each other. Understandably.'
    'What are they like then?'
    'Billy is the black sheep. Half the time he's roaring drunk - when he's not driving off somewhere. Then he's sober. Bit of a thug. Ask him the time of the day and he's likely to throw a heavy clock at you.'
    'And Martin?'
    'English gentleman. Tall, in his fifties. Well-spoken. Good-looking. Polite. Master of chatting and telling you nothing.'
    'And these two are brothers? Martin and Billy?'
    'They are. And there's more to relationships up there than you might think. Both Martin and Billy - wait for it - are cousins of Drew Franklin, the columnist.'
    'They are?' Tweed was taken aback. 'Do they communi cate with each other? I'd have thought it likely.'
    'Not according to Martin when I asked that same ques tion. His reply, mind you, was vague as usual. He said, "We all live our own lives. Haven't you heard that old saying - 'the bloodiest battlefield is the family arena'.'"
    'Doesn't tell us much.'
    'Which seems to be Martin's way of conducting a con versation. He'll chat for ages, but give you no information at all.'
    'Talking about relationships,' Paula began, 'maybe we ought to tell Jules about our strange visitor this morning. Eva Brand.'
    Tweed then gave Beaurain a full report of everything Eva had said - including the fact that she was a niece of Drew Franklin. When he had concluded, Tweed took out of his top drawer the drawing in ink of the cathedral the motor-cyclist had delivered. Beaurain studied it for a moment, threw it back on Tweed's desk.
    'St Paul's Cathedral.'
    'Exactly,' Tweed replied. 'Could it be significant?'
    'Decoy,' Beaurain said dismissively.

    7

    'Is that Ali?' asked the voice on the phone.
    Spoken in English, it was impossible to tell whether the caller was a man or a woman. The use of a voice-distorter made the speaker impossible to identify.
    'It is Ali from Finsbury Park,' the man inside the public phone-box replied.
    'Abdullah speaking. Is the consignment on its way. All five of the transporters.'
    'They are coming. On schedule. They arrive at their destination at eight o'clock tonight.'
    'I will call again, using the other number you gave, at seven . . .'
    Ali left the phone-box quickly. Located in a carefully chosen quiet area of London, it was rarely used, a fact confirmed by constant observation.

    The transporters referred to were milk wagons, each driving south on a different road, the route they used every day at this time. Innocent enough cargoes, on this occasion they carried more than milk.
    At the bottom of each load was a larger container, swathed thickly in waterproof cloth. There was also a thick cable wrapped round the container very securely. The end of the cable had a handle attached to a strong hook concealed just below the surface of the milk at the rear of the vehicle.
    Later, arriving at a farm with a large barn, purchased weeks before, they would drive in. Once inside the barn the wagon would be opened, a gloved hand would feel for the handle, grasp it, hauling the metal container to the surface. Inside the barn it