Sharp Shot. Justin Richards
he could get a signal and call for help. They climbed up the rickety wooden ladder, pulling it up behind them.
It didn’t seem that the hayloft was used any more. But there was enough straw and old sacking to gather together into three makeshift mattresses. They positioned themselves so they had a good view down over the farm machinery below. The rain was hammering on the bare tiles just above them. Water trickled in where the roof needed mending.
“What if they come back?” said Jade.
“Stay hidden,” said McCain. “There’s no way they can know where we are. When it’s light, and we can see what we’re doing, we’ll make a break for it. Maybe flag down a car in the lane outside. But I don’t fancy trying to find civilisation in this.” His words were punctuated by another flash of lightning.
“The farmhouse is being renovated,” said Rich. “There must be builders, workmen, someone to look after those chickens if nothing else.”
“And if they come back and do find us?” Jade insisted.
Rich pointed to the combine harvester below. “We’ll use that. It’s a step up from a tractor, and we can give them a damned good threshing!”
Jade stifled a smile. “Let’s hope they don’t come back then, if bad jokes are all we’ve got going for us.”
“We should get some sleep,” said McCain. “I’ve a feeling it’s going to be a busy and tiring day tomorrow.”
Despite the situation, Rich managed to doze. He woke with straw poking painfully into his ear, and the first light of day creeping through the holes in the roof where the water had come through during the night. The rain had stopped and the morning was bright and clear.
Rich’s phone still had no signal, but there was enough light to get a decent picture with the camera. So he pulled out the photograph of Dad, Dex Halford, Ferdy McCain and the other soldier, and smoothed it out. The rain hadn’t been kind to it, and the edges were ragged. But he managed to get a decent photo of the snapshot on his phone camera.
Then he wrote a quick text message to Dex Halford and sent it together with the photo: “jade & me with mccain big trouble help!” Of course, it didn’t get sent as there was no signal. But as soon as there was, he knew it would go. Not that it would do much good if he couldn’t talk to Halford, but with luck Halford would call him back and the call would get through. Although Rich had no idea where they were, so asking for help might not be so useful…
McCain was already awake, sitting behind a bale of hay looking out down into the barn. As Rich joined him, he put his finger to his lips and pointed down into the barn. Rich could see the silhouette of a man against the open doors, the low morning sunlight streaming past him.
“Farmer?” Rich whispered.
McCain shook his head. The figure moved slightly, looking round the barn, and Rich could see now that he was holding a handgun.
“Perhaps he’s out shooting rabbits,” Jade’s voice whispered in Rich’s ear. She took shelter behind the hay bale with Rich and McCain, and together they watched the man making his way slowly through the maze of farm machinery.
He moved with practised ease, gun at the ready. His movements were slow and measured, with sudden bursts of speed as he checked each and every possible hiding place methodically and with professional care.
At one point, as he stepped back from inspecting the combine harvester, the man glanced up. Rich was pretty sure they were hidden in the shadows, but even so he drew back. Beside him Jade mirrored his movement. But McCain stayed exactly where he was, as if daring the man to see him.
The man was wearing an expensive-looking dark suit with a white shirt and modest tie. His hair was black, slicked back and oiled. His face was pale brown, and weathered like old stone. One of his eyebrows ended abruptly above the eye, continuing as a pale scar that curled down his left cheek.
For several moments he stared up at the hay loft. Rich was sure he could see McCain, but abruptly the man turned away and continued his search of the barn below.
After what seemed an age, the man left the barn. Rich could hear voices outside, then the distant sound of a car.
“Think we’re OK?” asked Jade.
“Think we had a lucky escape,” Rich told her. “But we should get out of here.”
“Agreed,” said McCain. “And despite what Rich thinks, I don’t fancy making a break for it on a combine harvester, so let’s see what the alternatives are.”
There was a garage behind the farmhouse. Rich thought it would probably be filled with more farm machinery, but instead there as a dirty green Range Rover. They all climbed inside. Rich and Jade got in the back, leaving McCain alone in the front.
“You still haven’t told us who these people are and what they want,” said Jade to McCain as he got the engine started. She was leaning forward, over the back of the passenger seat.
“Not much to tell,” he admitted. “They’re not nice people, as you’ve probably gathered. And they want money. Simple as that.”
“What did you do to upset them?” Rich wondered.
“They paid me to do a job. I was unable to complete it, through no fault of my own. They want their money back.”
He put the Range Rover into gear and reversed it out of the garage on to the courtyard.
“Maybe you should just pay them their money,” said Jade as they started down the track to the lane.
“Maybe I should. But I’ve spent it. They’re not very happy about that.”
“We could tell,” said Rich. “So why come to Dad?”
“He’s a useful guy when you’re in a tight spot. And he has connections that might help. I was hoping he could bargain for me, get me more time.”
“Ardman might help,” said Rich.
“Dad’s boss,” said Jade quickly, glaring at Rich. “He has connections too.”
They turned out on to the lane, heading the same way as they had the night before.
“Best not go back to your cottage. They might be watching it.”
“I’ll call Ardman,” said Rich. “As soon as I can get a signal. Hey—have you got a mobile?” If McCain’s was with a different operator he might have a signal.
But McCain shook his head. “I left home in a bit of a hurry. Didn’t have time to pick it up.”
“Tell me about it,” said Jade.
Rich checked his mobile again. His text message was no longer in the outbox, so he hoped that meant it had been sent. But he didn’t say anything. Best not to raise their hopes until he was sure there was a good reason.
They drove for over half an hour before they saw another vehicle. It was still very early in the morning and the country lanes were empty. A silver Mercedes pulled out of a side road behind them. It kept its distance. The car was still with them as they reached the outskirts of a village.
“We should stop and borrow a phone or something,” said Jade.
McCain checked the rearview mirror. “I’d rather keep going,” he said. “I think that car’s following us.”
Rich twisted round to see. The car was still keeping its distance. “How can you tell?”
“Let’s find out.”
McCain slowed as they entered a 30mph limit. Another sign said: Welcome to Boscombe. The Mercedes drew closer. Rich could see the driver clearly now, but he looked very ordinary. Just a man on his way to work.
“I think I recognise the driver,” McCain confirmed. “His colleagues call him ‘Nail’, because he’s such a hardcase.”