The Savage Gorge

The Savage Gorge by Colin Forbes

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Authors: Colin Forbes
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Neville Guile.

Suppressing her instinct to dash back into the hall, she chose an armchair, sat very erect as he moved slowly towards her. His motion reminded her of Harry's description: he slithered to the armchair.

He no longer wore his disguise. He was dressed in a black suit. Black trousers, a long black jacket, black tie over a white shirt. He was very tall and thin and the black stressed his bloodless cadaverous face, his thin lips curved in a peculiar smile.

Paula had her hands tucked in her jacket pockets as he came close, his hand extended to shake hers. She remained still as a statue.

'You don't often get the chance to shake hands with a billionaire,' he said.

She recalled the cut-glass voice from the few words she'd heard distantly in Finden Square. She couldn't
    be rude. She took her right hand out of her pocket, grasped his. It was like shaking hands with a fish and he had an unpleasant way of grasping her, sliding his fingers up between hers. Without a smile she freed her hand and waited.
    'I am looking for a personal assistant, Miss Grey. I know your universal reputation for incredible efficiency.' Pausing, he dabbed at his lips with a silk handkerchief. 'I would be most happy to pay you eighty thousand a year, plus benefits.'
    'Thank you for the offer,' she said quickly, 'but I do have a position I totally enjoy.'

'Just so long as you have Tweed. He could be shot any day.'

'It has been tried before and he is good at surviving.'

'I have never been turned down before.' The cut- glass voice was even sharper, almost with a note of menace.

'There's always a first time.' She laughed gently. 'Might do your ego good.'

'I do wish you had not added that last sentence.' He placed his hands on his knees, prior to standing up. 'Few people have risked insulting me,' he remarked, standing up. 'And I'm not sure they're all still walking the planet. . .'

On this note his tall dark figure strode to the door. He opened it, disappeared, closed it softly.

Paula heaved a deep breath, decided she needed a long hot bath to wash off his touch.
    After her bath Paula found her mind very alert. She assumed it was the result of the unwanted approaches she'd experienced. She was also intrigued by the hidden tunnel on Black Gorse Moor. What was going on up there?

She dressed, wearing two leather jackets, ankle boots. In her backpack she put certain items. She scribbled a note to Tweed, hoping he'd excuse her for not attending the Bullerton dinner but she felt she could sleep the evening and the night through. She wrote his name on an envelope, sealed it. She knew he'd be furious if he knew what she had decided to do.

Walking down the corridor, she paused outside Tweed's suite, pressed her ear against the door. She couldn't hear what was being said but was surprised to gather the conversation was friendly.

In the hall the landlord was absorbed explaining a map to an elegantly dressed woman. Unseen, Paula descended into the garage. No one about, thank heaven. She climbed behind the wheel of the Audi, using her own key. It was only when she emerged into the street that it occurred to her she might be driving into danger.

It was dusk when she parked the Audi in a deep hole in the hedge. She walked into the top of the bowl and saw Hobart House, far below, a blaze of lights. Getting ready for the dinner. She was relieved to see the curtains were closed.
    Striding briskly, she descended the slope of the bowl, crossed it well away from the house, began to climb steeply. She sat down for a minute, took out a tough pair of jeans, hauled them on over her daytime pair. She thought she heard a noise as she put on an old pair of motoring gloves. Looking up, she saw briefly the flash of a light. Someone was on the moor. At this hour?
    Or had it been her imagination? In the gloaming everything seemed different. Bullerton's residence looked tiny - more like a doll's house. She had lost her sense of direction - she could not find the section

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