Free Lone Wolf by David Archer Page B

into town it was easy to find. The agent turned out to be a portly older man named Withers.
    “Good to meet you, Mister Colson,” Withers said. “Your man tells me you're a writer, eh?”
    Neil hadn't bothered to mention this little detail, but Noah smiled and went with it. “I try to be,” he said. “I'm working on a novel, it'll be my first. Some of my friends in the business told me that the best way to get any writing done is to set myself up in the English countryside.”
    Withers nodded his head vigorously. “Oh, aye,” he said. “You'll be the fourth or fifth writer to use the estate for some quiet and solitude. I hope it goes well for you.”
    He gave Noah the keys to the house and a printed map that showed a number of landmarks to watch out for, in order to be certain of making the right turns. The estate was large, encompassing well over a thousand acres, with a river and a small lake on the premises.
    The road leading to it was little more than a wagon trail, and Decker had to slow down in spots where runoff had left some deep holes. It took them almost twenty minutes to get to the house, but both men were amazed when they finally saw it.
    The house had three stories, as well as a full basement. The agent had explained that it was nearly 200 years old, and had once been a private holiday residence of Lord Liverpool, who had served as prime minister of England under the reign of George IV in the 1820s. It was incredibly well furnished, and many of its pieces were antiques dating back to that period.
    In addition to the house, there were several outbuildings on the property. Two large barns gave mute testimony to the estate's farming history, though the only occupants the men found were a number of stray cats that seemed to have taken up residence there. There was what appeared to be a chicken house, surrounded by a pen that would've allowed them a generous area in which to run and scratch, as well as what was obviously intended to be a garage for vehicles and equipment.
    “Look at this,” Noah said, as he and Decker were exploring one of the barns. He pointed upward to where a block and tackle hung from the highest point of the roof. “I'm guessing that's about fifty feet up, what do you think?”
    Decker nodded. “I'd say you're about right. It blows my mind that the British seem to like these huge barns, but I guess having three hay lofts comes in handy for their winters.”
    “I guess. Right now, I'm thinking that if we hang Pendergrast off that hook up there by his hands, and just let him think about things overnight, he might be ready to do some serious talking come morning.”
    Decker stared upward at the hook. “You'd need to run him right up tight to the ceiling, so he doesn't have any slack. Probably still be a good idea for us to keep a watch on him, though.”
    “I was planning on it, but whoever is watching will stay out of sight. I want him to think he's alone, that we just hung him up and left him there to rot. Most people don't realize it, but there's very little more frightening than to think you're going to die slowly from thirst or starvation, and all alone. I want him to reach that point before we actually start to question him.”
    They got back into the car and started on the trip back to London. Noah called Neil to tell him the house was perfect and to be ready to move later that day.
    “Oh, come on boss, I was just getting settled in here,” Neil whined. “The window beside my desk has a fantastic view of the pool, do you know how many bikinis are out there right now?”
    “When we get this job done, you can actually put on your trunks and go join them, but for now we got work to do. Pack it up.”
    “Me, put on trunks and go to the pool? Boss, have you seen the chicken legs I got stuck with? I'm trying to impress a girl, not scare her away forever! Don't worry, I'll be packed by the time you get here.”
    Noah ended that call, then dialed Sarah's number.
    “Hola,