Free The Devil's Anvil by Matt Hilton Page B

Suit Man’s intention to carry on towards the farm, then he’d see my vehicle, but I didn’t think he would. I inserted my gun in my waistband as I got out the car, zipped my jacket up to my throat against the chill and tracked back to the service road. A check along the road showed no impending arrival of the second man, and I couldn’t hear the sound of a distant engine. It meant nothing: the turns in the road blocked any view, and the topography would play havoc with acoustics; for all I knew, Suit Man could be very close behind. I began jogging up the trail. It was muddy going, and the deep ruts showed how often vehicles had come and gone up the trail in the last few days: a lot of times. I arrived at the first bend where the road followed the natural ridge and plunged into the forest, continuing to jog at a parallel to the trail.
    The going was easy enough. The trees weren’t tightly packed and there was room to move between them without fear of breaking any of the lower branches, though I had to watch for brittle windfalls underfoot. As I’d expected, I came across the parked SUV soon enough. To gain any vantage point on Billie’s farm, the guy couldn’t drive too high up the trail or his view would be obliterated by the mist coming off the lake, or by the low-lying clouds crowning the hills above. I slowed, walking heel to toe, ensuring that each foot was placed with care as I moved closer to the SUV. I pulled my SIG from my waistband, and held it against my right thigh as I progressed.
    There was some condensation on the inside of its windows, but unless Smelly was lying down across the seats, I could tell he was out of the SUV. I moved in, got within spitting distance of the parked vehicle, and made out a fresh set of boot prints in the mud. They led across the road and into the stand of trees on that side. I crossed, placing my feet in the same tracks, and then concealed myself among the trees. I couldn’t see Smelly, but decided that he’d have moved towards the farm, not away. I’d progressed barely a hundred yards when I caught a glimpse of red. The young man was squatting on the hillside, using a fallen tree for cover as he surveyed the farm below through a pair of binoculars. He was so intent on watching Billie, or indeed for anyone else turning up at the farm, he had no idea he was being observed in turn. If I’d wanted to I could have walked up, put my gun to his head and that would have been that.
    But the hopeless sap didn’t deserve to die. All he was guilty of up until now was keeping an eye on Billie, and being pretty useless at his job. I squatted down, kept him under observation, waited to see how things would play out.
    My wait didn’t last. Within a quarter-hour I heard the growl of a car engine making its way up the trail. A sticky brake squeaked as the car came to a halt, then it was followed by silence as the engine was turned off. A dull thud announced the closing of a door. Only one person had come out to the observation point, and I guessed that it was the suited man. He cursed and grumbled as he negotiated the muddy trail, and I pinpointed him by his voice as he picked his way through the forest. He’d donned a raincoat over his suit, but hadn’t had the sense to change to more appropriate footwear. His shoes would be ruined.
    Thinking they were out of sight, out of earshot, and therefore beyond notice, the newcomer called out for his friend. ‘Adam, where are you?’
    A short whistle hailed him, and there was a flash of red as Smelly beckoned him over to his hiding spot. Their ineptitude was magnificent.
    ‘What kept you, Noah?’ Smelly – or Adam as I’d heard him called – said to his friend. I wondered if they were using codenames derived from Genesis in the Bible. Earlier he’d mentioned the name Kirk, so probably not. The suited man’s full name was probably Noah Kirk.
    ‘I took another look at the gallery. There was only that hot girl there, but I wanted to check