Dark Side of the Street - Jack Higgins [46]
He closed the desk diary, opened a drawer and put it away, at the same time taking out a .38 revolver with his other hand and slipping it into his pocket, an act which completely escaped the girl's notice.
He stood up. "Would you kindly come this way?"
Molly got to her feet, panic moving inside her. She hadn't the slightest idea what to do next and reached out to touch his arm timidly as he brushed past her.
"There's nothing to worry about," Pentecost said reassuringly. "We'll talk upstairs."
She followed him up the stairway and along the quiet corridor at the top. He paused outside a leather covered door, opened it and stood back for her.
The room was a place of shadows and she moved inside uncertainly. The first thing she noticed was the heavy smell of formaldehyde and then she saw the body floating in the tank tinged with green in the subdued light, hair trailing like seaweed. Her throat went dry and she turned with a gasp as the door clicked shut.
Pentecost paused beside a bench to open a large mahogany case of surgical instruments. He selected a razor sharp scalpel and held it up to the light, examining the edge of the blade with a slight frown. Quite suddenly he reached out, grabbing her by the coat, pulling her so close that their faces were only an inch or two apart. The smoothness, the suavity had disappeared--even the voice had changed as he touched the edge of the blade to her skin.
"I don't know what in the hell you're playing at, but there should be two of you, that I do know. Where's your friend? Quick now or I'll slice your throat."
And Molly, pushed beyond endurance, shoved him away wildly and screamed.
The Ford was parked in the shadows beneath a clump of beech trees a hundred yards up the road from the main gate of the Long Barrow estate.
Through the trees, Youngblood could see the dim bulk of the house, a light shining in the porch. It was the sort of Gothic pile built on the high tide of Victorian prosperity by some self-made pillar of Empire. In the darkness and rain, it was impossible to see much of the grounds, but from the size of the house, they were obviously extensive.
Footsteps approached through the darkness and Chavasse joined him. "According to the notice on the gate the place closes at six. What time is it now?"
Youngblood checked the luminous dial of his watch. "Six-fifteen."
"Someone drove out while I was down there, but there's still a car parked in front of the house. I could see it from the gate. A Mercedes from the look of it."
"Only the boss man could run a car like that," Youngblood said.
"That sounds logical." Chavasse frowned. "I still feel something stinks about this whole thing."
"Maybe you're right," Youngblood said impatiently, "but where does that get us? We've got to take a chance. We don't have any choice."
"Perhaps you're right, but I always like to hedge my bets." Chavasse leaned in at the window of the Ford and said to the girl, "You could help a lot here, Molly. Like to try?"
"Anything," she said, getting out into the rain. "Just tell me what you want me to do."
"Walk right up to the front door and ask for Hugo Pentecost. Once you're alone with him, spin him some yarn. Tell him your great aunt's died and you want to arrange cremation. At some point in the conversation introduce the word Babylon. I don't care how you do it so long as you say the word. His reaction should be very interesting."
"What about us?" Youngblood demanded.
"We'll take a look from a different direction. I'll try the back of the house, you the front or one of the sides." Chavasse turned to Molly. "We'll be right behind you, Molly. Think you can handle it?"
She nodded and Youngblood moved close to her. "Don't worry, kid. If he lays a finger on you I'll break his back."
They were empty words, brash and arrogant and yet she reached out to clutch his arm at once. "I know I can rely on you, Harry."
Even Youngblood could not avoid what was implicit in that remark and there was a kind of uncertainty in his voice as he patted her on the shoulder awkwardly