The Savage Gorge Read Online Free

passenger seat next to Tweed.

He smiled as the traffic suddenly started moving again. He told her about his conversation with Harry. When he reported his instructions Paula smiled.

'Falkirk may be smart but Harry's smarter. He'll never lose him.'
    She went on to tell him about the trick with his iden tity folder and the money he was carrying. Tweed merely grunted, his mind elsewhere. As they reached Holland Park he turned down the winding cul-de-sac leading to Saafeld's HQ. There were other large private mansions vaguely visible behind trees coming into leaf. It had been a hard winter so the trees were flourishing late. He stopped in front of a pair of high wrought-iron gates let into a ten-foot-high wall, jumped out, used the speakphone set into a pillar to identify himself.
    The gates opened, closed automatically behind them. They walked up a curving drive hemmed in by rhododendron bushes. A large white stone mansion came into view and Saafeld stood waiting by a massive open front door.
    Professor Saafeld, the country's top pathologist, was of medium height, well built, thick white hair above a
    high forehead which suggested brain power. It was an impression reinforced by the sharpness of his eyes, which gazed unblinking at anyone he was talking to. He wore a smart blue bird's-eye suit and was in his late fifties. He hugged Paula, who had been to his HQ before.

Tm not going to hug you,' he said with a grin at Tweed.

'Thank heavens for small mercies.'
    'We'll go straight into the mortuary. I'm only at the first stage of my autopsy on the two ladies. Also,' he went on, 'I'm puzzled. Show you why . . .'
    In front of a large steel door coated with white enamel he pressed buttons inside a security panel, pulled at the handle. The door opened and closed with an airlock's sucking sound. They descended a flight of stone steps into a small room which was very cold. Paula remembered the procedure as Saafeld opened a cupboard, handed each of them a white coat, a cap, a pair of white gloves and a pair of outsize canvas shoes. The moment they were dressed he pressed buttons in another security panel and a large steel door opened slowly. A unique odour drifted in the air, the odour of death. This time she was pre pared for it as she adjusted her mask.
    'You're getting used to it,' Saafeld said with a reassuring smile. He was not wearing a mask. 'I never do, but sometimes there's an element in the odour which tells me how they died . . .'

It was a large room with eight spotless metal-topped

tables equipped with encircling gutters. Saafeld skipped the length of the room to two more tables, occupied with bodies covered with white sheets. Paula was always amazed at Saafeld's agility: he moved like a twenty-year-old. A tall man clothed in white stood waiting.

'This excellent chap is Joffey, my new assistant. Been here six months. Joffey, meet our important vis itors. Deputy Chief Tweed and his brilliant assistant Paula Grey. I'd say we're ready now . . .'

Paula tensed inwardly as Joffey lifted the nearest sheet. It was the woman who had lain nearest Lisa Clancy's house. Paula shuddered inwardly. The cuts had dug deeply into her flesh.

'Hatred on the killer's part,' Paula said softly.

'Or a determination neither would be recognizable,' Tweed commented.

At a nod from Saafeld, Joffey replaced the sheet, moved to the next table. He lifted the sheet clear of the head and neck again. The massacre of the face was just as ruthless on the other victim.
    'In each case,' Saafeld explained, 'the killer cut the throat first with a very sharp knife. I suggest he came up behind them, grabbed their long hair, which you notice was dishevelled, hauled the head back, expos ing the throat for a swift slash ear to ear. Probably only took seconds. What puzzles me is what kind of weapon he used to ruin their faces, to create the deep random squiggles. Hector might solve the problem - you can't put photos of those horrors in the papers

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