peered through at your place. In Boffinland downstairs in the basement.'
'Would you like me to Fed-Ex Ramsey's material to you?'
'Yes, please. And thank you for calling me . . .'
Once again the phone went dead. No wasted words from Professor Saafeld. Tweed put down the phone, told Newman and Paula what Saafeld had said, was doing.
'Another random serial killer?' Newman snorted. 'One at the edge of the Thames, the other thousands of miles away across the Atlantic? It seems damned unlikely.'
'Not a random serial killer,' Tweed contradicted. 'I am getting a feeling these murders are linked. That the victims had to be silenced at all costs because they knew some great secret.'
5
Tweed arrived back at his office at seven o'clock that evening. He found not only Monica waiting but also Paula and Newman. On his desk was a huge magnifying instrument and a package from Fed-Ex.
'I resisted the temptation to open it,' Paula said.
'I hope you didn't carry that magnifier up from the basement. It weighs a ton.'
'I got Freddie to bring it up. You know he's as strong as an elephant. He wants to look at the photos himself. Not that he has a clue as to what they are.'
'You can open up the package. I can tell you're dying to.'
He sat at his desk while she struggled with the package, using a pair of scissors and her nimble fingers. A strong cardboard box eventually appeared and she prised off the lid. Typically Saafeld had enclosed the photos inside plastic envelopes with even stronger protection for the X-rays. Tweed selected the best pictures of the necks of Foley and Holgate and the result was grisly. Then he asked Monica to summon Freddie up from the basement.
He arrived very quickly, a heavily built man over six feet tall with a dour expression which never changed. Tweed gave him two photos, one of Foley which was on better paper than the one of Holgate from Saafeld.
'Freddie, this is top secret. No gossiping about any of this down in the underworld.'
'Never tell them anything.'
'You know how to fix the plate so we can study these two photos side by side.'
Freddie inserted a large plate in a holder below a lens. He carefully placed the two photos in position, looking through another lens to adjust them. Then he stood back.
'What do you think, Freddie?' Tweed asked. 'You may have noticed the stumps of the necks are very cleanly cut, but on one, at least, there's a ragged patch. As though the blade which did the job had a notch in it.'
'I suggest, Mr Tweed, you look for yourself.'
Tweed peered through the lens. He took several minutes studying what he saw. Then he straightened up, turned to Paula. 'Your turn now.'
'Ugh!' was her first reaction. But she continued gazing through the lens. Her nerves were rattling inside but she forced herself to continue her examination. When she stood up she nodded at Tweed while Newman, with a sceptical expression, peered through the lens.
'Freddie,' Tweed said suddenly, 'your opinion, please.'
'A perfect match. This candidate -' he pointed at the photo of Foley's stump - 'had a thinner neck. Even so the blade has to be an axe. And whoever wielded it has to have plenty of strength. Especially to create such a neat cut.'
For Freddie this was a long speech. Tweed thanked him and he left the room. What he had seen and heard was kept inside his head as though he had locked it in a safe. Newman stood up.
'I do see what you mean,' he conceded.
'Bravo for you,' Paula snapped.
They spent the next half-hour examining the X-ray films sent from Boston. Paula had fetched up a special lamp from the basement, with which the strength of the light could be adjusted. The X-rays further confirmed the presence of a notch in the missing axe. Paula had carefully repacked everything inside the outer box when the phone rang.
'It's Chief Superintendent Buchanan again,' Monica reported.
'What can I do for you, Roy?'
'It's what I can do for you. Hope you don't mind, but since I've been pushed firmly out
'Would you like me to Fed-Ex Ramsey's material to you?'
'Yes, please. And thank you for calling me . . .'
Once again the phone went dead. No wasted words from Professor Saafeld. Tweed put down the phone, told Newman and Paula what Saafeld had said, was doing.
'Another random serial killer?' Newman snorted. 'One at the edge of the Thames, the other thousands of miles away across the Atlantic? It seems damned unlikely.'
'Not a random serial killer,' Tweed contradicted. 'I am getting a feeling these murders are linked. That the victims had to be silenced at all costs because they knew some great secret.'
5
Tweed arrived back at his office at seven o'clock that evening. He found not only Monica waiting but also Paula and Newman. On his desk was a huge magnifying instrument and a package from Fed-Ex.
'I resisted the temptation to open it,' Paula said.
'I hope you didn't carry that magnifier up from the basement. It weighs a ton.'
'I got Freddie to bring it up. You know he's as strong as an elephant. He wants to look at the photos himself. Not that he has a clue as to what they are.'
'You can open up the package. I can tell you're dying to.'
He sat at his desk while she struggled with the package, using a pair of scissors and her nimble fingers. A strong cardboard box eventually appeared and she prised off the lid. Typically Saafeld had enclosed the photos inside plastic envelopes with even stronger protection for the X-rays. Tweed selected the best pictures of the necks of Foley and Holgate and the result was grisly. Then he asked Monica to summon Freddie up from the basement.
He arrived very quickly, a heavily built man over six feet tall with a dour expression which never changed. Tweed gave him two photos, one of Foley which was on better paper than the one of Holgate from Saafeld.
'Freddie, this is top secret. No gossiping about any of this down in the underworld.'
'Never tell them anything.'
'You know how to fix the plate so we can study these two photos side by side.'
Freddie inserted a large plate in a holder below a lens. He carefully placed the two photos in position, looking through another lens to adjust them. Then he stood back.
'What do you think, Freddie?' Tweed asked. 'You may have noticed the stumps of the necks are very cleanly cut, but on one, at least, there's a ragged patch. As though the blade which did the job had a notch in it.'
'I suggest, Mr Tweed, you look for yourself.'
Tweed peered through the lens. He took several minutes studying what he saw. Then he straightened up, turned to Paula. 'Your turn now.'
'Ugh!' was her first reaction. But she continued gazing through the lens. Her nerves were rattling inside but she forced herself to continue her examination. When she stood up she nodded at Tweed while Newman, with a sceptical expression, peered through the lens.
'Freddie,' Tweed said suddenly, 'your opinion, please.'
'A perfect match. This candidate -' he pointed at the photo of Foley's stump - 'had a thinner neck. Even so the blade has to be an axe. And whoever wielded it has to have plenty of strength. Especially to create such a neat cut.'
For Freddie this was a long speech. Tweed thanked him and he left the room. What he had seen and heard was kept inside his head as though he had locked it in a safe. Newman stood up.
'I do see what you mean,' he conceded.
'Bravo for you,' Paula snapped.
They spent the next half-hour examining the X-ray films sent from Boston. Paula had fetched up a special lamp from the basement, with which the strength of the light could be adjusted. The X-rays further confirmed the presence of a notch in the missing axe. Paula had carefully repacked everything inside the outer box when the phone rang.
'It's Chief Superintendent Buchanan again,' Monica reported.
'What can I do for you, Roy?'
'It's what I can do for you. Hope you don't mind, but since I've been pushed firmly out
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