Burgoyne and Fanshawe own a boat berthed round here. If so, what type of craft they have...'
`I might have known it.' Newman sighed. 'While we were in the land of Nod you've been purring like a dynamo...'
`I have also asked Monica to check with the right contacts to get me all that is known about the history of Fanshawe and Burgoyne all those years they spent in the Far East. Plus a profile on Andover. She'll be up all night, our Monica.'
`The energy of the man,' Newman commented. 'Oh, while I remember it,' he said casually, 'was Paula badly cut up about Boyd's death?'
Tweed kept a straight face. 'Naturally she was shocked. But they weren't very close. They just seemed to get on reasonably well together. Nothing serious.'
`I'm glad it wasn't an earth-shattering blow. But why are you taking all this trouble?'
`Because I've read Andover's file and certain elements came back to me when Paula was talking. My earlier action in rushing into Lymington was prompted by Paula insisting she saw something in the fog last night down at the marina. She does have exceptional eyesight. I also don't like one of my men — even a new recruit — killed under suspicious circumstances.'
`You mean Harvey Boyd, ex-SAS, was...'
`About to join the SIS after passing our training course with flying colours...'
`I didn't know that,' Newman rapped out.
`I'd hardly had time to tell you, had I? Bob, I really am worried. There are several apparently unconnected mysteries here. I'm beginning to feel we've stumbled on to something very sinister indeed.'
`Then I'd better get down to have a little chat with charming Mr Watford. You're going back to London?'
'Not just yet. There may be important clues I can hit on down here. I'm driving round Lymington. Maybe call in at one or two pubs. That's where you find out about the locals …'
Tweed was climbing into his Escort in the car park outside Passford House when Paula appeared, back from her walk. She peered in at the window as he fastened his seat belt.
`I'm sorry I was so rude, flouncing out like that. I suppose I couldn't come with you?'
`Hop in...'
He drove them out of the hotel entrance and along the winding country road leading to Lymington. A hard frost sparkled on the bare trees and the air was cold and fresh. He was turning on to the main road when Paula made her remark.
`This is Bob Newman's ideal weather. Says he works and thinks better in crisp air.'
`Let's hope he's doing both at the moment.'
`During my walk I was wondering what I could do — the rest of you are so active. I'd like to investigate the backgrounds of those two women — Lee Holmes and Helen Claybourne. I feel there could be more to them than just being so-called housekeepers to those men.'
`Check them out. I don't imagine it will be too easy. And I'd be careful.'
`So you think there's something odd about one of them?'
`I just warned you to be careful...'
A few minutes later he drove into the public car park behind a Waitrose supermarket. He stopped the car in the Long Stay area where there was nothing to pay. The receptionist at Passford House had told him how to find it.
Walking back to the main street, it was after eleven when they wandered past old Georgian frontages and a mix of shops. Tweed stopped at Pier 68, a bar-restaurant, ushered Paula inside.
`Barmen usually know the locals pretty well,' he whispered. 'I'm after certain information. Those ships that disappeared...'
Inside Pier 68 was a long cosy room with a bar counter and stools along one wall. Beyond, through an open doorway, Tweed saw tables laid neatly for lunch. He perched on a bar stool next to a man with a stiff blue cap, a prominent peak, who was smoking a cheroot. He ordered a glass of French dry white wine for himself and Paula. The barman was a jolly type with a fringe beard.
`I hear stories about boats vanishing into thin air after they've sailed from Lymington,' Tweed remarked.
`Sailors' stories.' The barman shook his head. 'I've
`I might have known it.' Newman sighed. 'While we were in the land of Nod you've been purring like a dynamo...'
`I have also asked Monica to check with the right contacts to get me all that is known about the history of Fanshawe and Burgoyne all those years they spent in the Far East. Plus a profile on Andover. She'll be up all night, our Monica.'
`The energy of the man,' Newman commented. 'Oh, while I remember it,' he said casually, 'was Paula badly cut up about Boyd's death?'
Tweed kept a straight face. 'Naturally she was shocked. But they weren't very close. They just seemed to get on reasonably well together. Nothing serious.'
`I'm glad it wasn't an earth-shattering blow. But why are you taking all this trouble?'
`Because I've read Andover's file and certain elements came back to me when Paula was talking. My earlier action in rushing into Lymington was prompted by Paula insisting she saw something in the fog last night down at the marina. She does have exceptional eyesight. I also don't like one of my men — even a new recruit — killed under suspicious circumstances.'
`You mean Harvey Boyd, ex-SAS, was...'
`About to join the SIS after passing our training course with flying colours...'
`I didn't know that,' Newman rapped out.
`I'd hardly had time to tell you, had I? Bob, I really am worried. There are several apparently unconnected mysteries here. I'm beginning to feel we've stumbled on to something very sinister indeed.'
`Then I'd better get down to have a little chat with charming Mr Watford. You're going back to London?'
'Not just yet. There may be important clues I can hit on down here. I'm driving round Lymington. Maybe call in at one or two pubs. That's where you find out about the locals …'
Tweed was climbing into his Escort in the car park outside Passford House when Paula appeared, back from her walk. She peered in at the window as he fastened his seat belt.
`I'm sorry I was so rude, flouncing out like that. I suppose I couldn't come with you?'
`Hop in...'
He drove them out of the hotel entrance and along the winding country road leading to Lymington. A hard frost sparkled on the bare trees and the air was cold and fresh. He was turning on to the main road when Paula made her remark.
`This is Bob Newman's ideal weather. Says he works and thinks better in crisp air.'
`Let's hope he's doing both at the moment.'
`During my walk I was wondering what I could do — the rest of you are so active. I'd like to investigate the backgrounds of those two women — Lee Holmes and Helen Claybourne. I feel there could be more to them than just being so-called housekeepers to those men.'
`Check them out. I don't imagine it will be too easy. And I'd be careful.'
`So you think there's something odd about one of them?'
`I just warned you to be careful...'
A few minutes later he drove into the public car park behind a Waitrose supermarket. He stopped the car in the Long Stay area where there was nothing to pay. The receptionist at Passford House had told him how to find it.
Walking back to the main street, it was after eleven when they wandered past old Georgian frontages and a mix of shops. Tweed stopped at Pier 68, a bar-restaurant, ushered Paula inside.
`Barmen usually know the locals pretty well,' he whispered. 'I'm after certain information. Those ships that disappeared...'
Inside Pier 68 was a long cosy room with a bar counter and stools along one wall. Beyond, through an open doorway, Tweed saw tables laid neatly for lunch. He perched on a bar stool next to a man with a stiff blue cap, a prominent peak, who was smoking a cheroot. He ordered a glass of French dry white wine for himself and Paula. The barman was a jolly type with a fringe beard.
`I hear stories about boats vanishing into thin air after they've sailed from Lymington,' Tweed remarked.
`Sailors' stories.' The barman shook his head. 'I've
Similar Books
![Dallas [Wolfe Brothers 3] (Siren Publishing Classic)](https://fs.dianahicksbooks.online/600104/thumbs/152x264/dallas-wolfe-brothers-3-siren-publishing-classic.png)
