The plot was thickening with a vengeance, so much was evident, but the reasons were still far from clear. One thing was certain. Whoever wanted Ben Garvald out of the way, must have a pretty good reason.

The American came round the corner from the alley and joined him in the doorway. ‘No sign of them. Manton isn’t there either.’

‘You’re sure?’

‘Absolutely. I even went upstairs and searched his private apartment. Let myself out of the side door.’ He shrugged. ‘Maybe he’s in the river already – Ben, I mean.’

‘Is there anywhere else they could take him? Somewhere secluded or out of the way, perhaps.’

Lazer frowned and then suddenly his face lit up. ‘Why didn’t I think of it before? There’s an old Georgian house on the edge of town near Ryescroft. They call it The Grange locally. Stands on its own in a couple of acres.’

‘Is it Manton’s?’

Lazer shook his head. ‘Another of Faulkner’s buys. He’s going to turn it into a swish country club, but Manton’s in charge out there. At the moment, there’s only a caretaker. Weird old boy called Bluey Squires. Used to be on the door at the Flamingo till he broke a leg.’

Ryescroft. That was half a mile beyond the city boundary which strictly speaking brought it within the jurisdiction of the county constabulary. Nick considered that along with several other important facts and made his decision.

‘Let’s get moving,’ he said and went down the steps to the Mini-Cooper.

18

The Grange was the sort of place that had been built in grey Yorkshire stone on the high tide of Victorian prosperity by some self-made megalomaniac. Vast Gothic chimneys lifted into the night from the pointed roof and the grounds were surrounded by a ten-foot wall.

Nick parked in a narrow lane some thirty or forty yards from the main gate, opened a door and got out. ‘It looks like a bad set for Wuthering Heights.’

Lazer slid behind the wheel and grinned. ‘Wish me luck, General. Maybe they’ll give me a medal or something.’

‘Play it by ear,’ Nick told him. ‘If Manton is there, you know what to say. I’ll wait for you here.’

The American slammed the door and drove away rapidly. The iron gates stood open and he followed the drive between a double line of poplar trees leading up to the great dark pile of the house. No light showed anywhere and he took a narrower path that went round the side to a cobbled yard.

Light streamed from a rear window, falling across Manton’s Jaguar, and Lazer switched off the engine. As the sound died into the night, a dog started to bark inside the house, hollow and menacing, touching something elemental inside him so that he shivered.

As he got out of the Mini-Cooper, the house door opened, a shaft of light picking him from the night.