Free The Reckless Engineer by Jac Wright Page B

vans, tractors, and harvesters and other equipment still parked on the remainder of the land that he had not sold to the company. The gate was closed but not latched, and no one was about to keep an eye on the equipment but a few grazing horses. He killed his lights, pulled over, got out, pushed open the gates, and reversed Jack’s Golf through the entrance into the land, backing it into a space behind a tractor out of sight from the main road.
    He would take the camcorder he had in his case with the powerful zoom lens. He had no binoculars, but it should do. Jeremy ran quietly past the tractors up to the thick hedge and trees that separated the BlackGold land from the farmer’s. From this vantage point behind the thick hedge, Jeremy was about fifteen yards from the SUVs where the man was busy at work. He looked Eastern European or Persian, medium built and balding. With his back to Jeremy, he was busy vacuuming Caitlin’s SUV and wiping its handles and surfaces with a cloth. There was a bucket of water on the ground into which he dipped his cloth every now and again, and several bottles of cleaning liquid he sprayed liberally onto the surfaces he was cleaning.
    Under the open hood of the other SUV, a Suzuki, Jeremy could see a pile of files, a PC base unit, a laptop, and two boxes set on the floor. Quietly focusing his camcorder on its license plate, he turned the recording on. A few more shots of the man as he went about cleaning Caitlin’s SUV and then headed back into the offices.
    Jeremy knew that Caitlin used the SUV mostly for taking equipment out for demonstrations. What could have been in it that needed such a thorough clean-out?
    The man left the office and spent about forty minutes in the labs; then returned to the office. A few minutes later, the lights in the offices went out. He came out carrying a black bag and locked the door. A chance to get a face shot . . . now! Jeremy watched him head back to the Suzuki, throw in the bag and the gloves he had been wearing, close the doors, get in, and start the engine. Slowly the vehicle pulled out and paused at the exit with its left indicator lights blinking. He was heading in Jeremy’s direction and therefore out of Portsmouth!
    Jeremy dashed back to his car and waited for the SUV to pass. It was nearly 7:15 on a dark but unusually warm autumn night. They had had two dry years in a row and the water companies were predicting drought conditions and water shortages. He drove Jack’s Golf out of the farmer’s land and settled into cruise speed behind the SUV, keeping its rear lights just about in sight ahead of him.
    The drive was about 35 minutes long, out of Portsmouth and heading inland. Jeremy turned on the voice recorder on his iPhone and read out the street names he passed into it every five minutes or so. They were heading into Petersfield when the SUV’s left indicator lights came on. Jeremy rapidly killed his speed and, as he followed it and turned left into a residential street, also killed his lights.
    About a hundred yards ahead the SUV had turned right through the entrance into the grounds of a detached house. Jeremy pulled over and parked. He wanted a closer look. He would look just like a normal pedestrian in the twilight, right?
    Walking past the house a minute later, he could see that his subject had parked his vehicle in the garage and was walking into the house through an exit at the back of it as its electric door closed behind him. The house number was 27 Cranford Road, a typical middle class suburban home. He took a few discreet photographs of the SUV and the house with his iPhone, in case Harry needed the evidence, catching the number plate just before the garage door closed. On his way back past the house he picked up several bundles of letters and bills from the recycling bin left near the entrance for collection.
    Back in Jack’s car, Jeremy could feel his pulse racing. What had he got himself into? He leaned his head back on the headrest,