Free The Cauldron by Colin Forbes Page A

early grave.
    His mouth was tight when he sat again behind his desk and called Mrs Benyon.

'Arabella?' he enquired. 'Vincent Bernard here.'
    'What the hell do you want?' a raspy growling English voice demanded. 'And it's time I had more stock in AMBECO.'
    'I've been talking to Ethan. You've been treating him very badly - even brutally. I won't have any more of that. Do you understand?'
    'And what are you going to do about it?' she sneered.
    'I can always take back the stock you already hold.'
    'You friggin' well can't.'
    'I suggest you study the attorney's agreement I had drawn up. It clearly states that at any time I can recall the stock and you have to return it.'
    'You swine.'
    'Compliments will get you nowhere. I'm ordering you to treat your son decently. You wouldn't like someone to put a bomb under your new house, I presume?'
    'You wouldn't dare.'
    Her voice became horrendous, but under the unbridled rage Moloch detected a note of fear. That was the only thing which made her control her evil temper. He put down the phone without replying. It worried him that Mrs Benyon was now so close to Black Ridge. He
    didn't want to order the guards to refuse her admittance to his headquarters. If he did so she would spread the story and the locals in Carmel and Monterey might wonder what was really going on inside the place - the last thing he needed at this critical time.

    Tweed had driven more than halfway to Cornwall when Nield insisted on doing his stint behind the wheel. In the front passenger seat Tweed promptly fell asleep. He had the knack of closing his eyes and immediately falling into a deep sleep. Much later Nield warned Tweed.
    'We're nearly there.' he said as he nudged Tweed, who woke, instantly alert.
    'Nearly where? Isn't this the road up to Nansidwell?'
    'Yes. How do you know?'
    'I was once down here on another problem. I toured the whole area, stayed at Nansidwell. Hadn't I better take the wheel, drop you off at the entrance to the Meudon, where Butler is staying? Monica booked you a room there.'
    'I know. Good idea ...'
    They changed places and Tweed drove along a country road which passed a long marshy area below them. Nield told Tweed what he had done earlier.
    'I called Paula on the mobile phone, told her you would be arriving within fifteen minutes. Then I called Harry, warned him I was about to arrive.'
    'You were careful what you said, I assume. No names.'
    'Of course.'
    Tweed disliked mobile phones. There has been too many instances of marauders listening in, recording conversations. He dropped off Nield with his case a short distance from Meudon. Butler had transport - he had hired a car and reported the fact earlier to Monica.
    Tweed drove down the curving drive to Nansidwell, prepared to meet the proprietor, who knew him as Chief Claims Investigator of General & Cumbria Assurance. When he entered the lounge the first person he saw was Paula, who came up and hugged him because no one else was about.
    'Trouble?' Tweed asked quietly as he registered in the open book on a desk.
    'Someone interesting you should meet. But you must be tired after your long day.'
    'Let's get on with it as soon as I've had a quick bath in my room.'
    A pleasant man appeared, relieved him of his case and led him to his room. Paula tapped on his door as he finished dressing again after his bath. He let her in and she put down a tray of tea and scones. Tweed had changed from his London business suit into more casual wear.
    "Thank you - this is most welcome,' he said as she poured a cup of tea. 'Driving down, the car was like a hothouse. Seems pretty warm here.'
    'It's been torrid since we got here. I'm ready to take you to see this person if you really want to. I can warn them here we'll be a bit late for dinner.'
    She was wearing a short black dress, a short jacket with a string of pearls and black suede pumps. He thought she looked very chic and said so.
    'Who is this person?' he asked in a lowered voice.
    'Maurice Prendergast. I