The Power Read Free Page B

pleasant drive from Sherborne for Paula - a cold February morning with the sun shining brilliantly out of a duck-egg blue sky. Pleasant until she had turned down the side road across Bodmin Moor. The sense of isolation had descended on her immediately, the bleak deserted moor closing in on her.
    She had stopped the car, switched off the engine for a moment, listened. Not a sign of human life anywhere among the barren reaches of gorse-covered heathland. In the distance she saw a dominant cone-like hill rising up - Brown Willy. It was the silence which seemed menacing.
    Despite the sunlight, a sense of doom gripped her. Of impending tragedy. She shook off the dark mood as she started up the car and drove on.
    'You're just being silly,' she told herself.
    Tresillian Manor was hidden from the outside world because it was located in a bowl. Wrought-iron gates were wide open with a curving drive beyond.
    Lousy security, Paula thought as she drove in past the stone pillar carrying the name of the house on a brass plate. Tall firs surrounded the estate, isolating it further from the outside world. Paula gasped as she turned a corner, slowed on the tarred drive.
    Built of grey stone, it was a smaller manor than she had expected but a beauty. Stately gables reared up at either end. A massive stone porch guarded the entrance. Six cars, including a Rolls, were parked below the terrace which ran the full width of the house. Mullion windows completed the architectural masterpiece.
    'Welcome to Tresillian Manor,' a small portly man greeted her. 'I am Julius Amberg. We met briefly in Zurich.' He peered over her shoulder. 'Where is Tweed?'
    'He's coming down with his people from London. I'm sure he'll be here shortly.'
    Behind Amberg stood a blank-faced heavily built man. Paula was shown a cupboard where she divested herself of her trench-coat. She kept her shoulder-bag, inside which nestled her Browning .32 automatic.
    Drinks were served in a room Amberg called the Great Hall. Spacious, lofty, with a sculpted plasterwork ceiling, it seemed as old as time. A few minutes later Paula followed the other guests across the large entrance hall into a long narrow dining-room. The table was laid for lunch. Paula counted twelve places. Plenty of room for Tweed and his contingent.
    She glanced at her watch. Unusual for him to be late. Her stomach felt queasy again: she must have eaten something the previous evening which had disagreed with her. She'd be relieved when Tweed did arrive. The sensation of imminent catastrophe had returned. She studied Amberg, who sat at the head of the table.
    The Swiss banker, in his fifties, wore his black hair without a parting, slicked back from his high forehead. Under thick brows his blue eyes were shrewd, his face clean-shaven and plump. He smiled at Paula, who sat on his left.
    Tweed is usually so prompt.'
    'He'll be here any minute,' she assured him.
    She looked down the table at the other six men, none of whom had spoken a word. All were in their thirties and wearing black suits. She suspected they were hired from a private security firm in Switzerland. They didn't inspire her with confidence - there had been no one at the entrance gate, and Amberg had opened the door himself with only one guard behind him.
    'It's very good of Squire Gaunt to rent the manor to me at such short notice,' Amberg continued. 'Even though I have spent longer periods here before. And the butler and kitchen staff.'
    'Squire Gaunt?'
    'He owns the manor. The locals call him Squire. He finds it rather amusing in this day and age.'
    'Where is he?'
    'Oh, probably riding across the moor. While I'm herehe stays in a cottage he owns at Five Lanes.'
    He looked up as someone knocked on the door. The butler who had served the drinks earlier appeared, his manner apologetic.
    'Excuse me, sir, Cook says she is ready with the luncheon whenever it suits you.'
    Mounce, a Cornishman, wore-a black jacket, grey- striped trousers, a white shirt and black tie.