“Fair enough,” Al said. “I wouldn’t want to carry it through security or customs, anyway.”
“I should think not. Would you like some lunch?”
“Thanks, I’ve already had mine. I need to do some sighting in.”
“Be careful with that — don’t be seen.”
“Of course not, and I’ll use the silencers, too.”
“Very good.”
Al got up, shook Furrow’s hand, and took the briefcase with him. The case fit nicely into his saddlebag, and the cover closed over it. He pedaled down the road, past the Windward Hall gate and almost to the Curtis House entrance, where he stopped, looked and listened for traffic, then lifted the bicycle over the stone wall and vaulted over. He took the case from the saddlebag, slung his binoculars around his neck, and stuffed his birding book into a jacket pocket.
The wood was only a few yards away; he left the bicycle leaning against the inside of the stone wall and set off through the trees. After a few minutes he came to the riding trail and crossed it, then passed a small wooden house. He peeked through a window and found it deserted, then continued on until he saw clear daylight ahead, beyond the trees.
He picked a spot from which he could fire between trees to a spot on the stone wall that separated the two properties. He could see that the riding trail left the woods and wound down to the wall, the grass pounded flat by recent hoofs. He set down the briefcase and walked to the edge of the wood and brought his binoculars to bear, first on Windward Hall, in the distance, then, slightly nearer, on Curtis House, where there was much activity.
Trucks and cars were parked in the forecourt, and men came and went, carrying tools and materials. He could hear the sounds of power tools coming from the house, a good thing, cover for him.
He went back to where he had left the case, opened it, and removed and assembled the rifle. The barrel was slightly shorter than he would have liked, but it made the weapon more easily concealable. He loaded a magazine, shoved it into the rifle, and sighted toward the stone wall, picking a spot where the hoof marks ended. Excellent; he would be shooting from behind the horsemen.
He sighted through the weapon then looked around at trees, gauging the wind direction and speed. There wasn’t much of either. He picked a stone on the top of the wall, sighted it in, and squeezed off a round. The silencer was very effective, and he watched through the scope as his round ricocheted off the stone below the one where he had aimed. He made a small adjustment to the sight and repeated the process, striking the stone dead center.
Then he heard the sound of hooves on turf.
50
Billy Barnett, née Teddy Fay, woke at seven o’clock, as if by an alarm. His wife slept soundly on. Since breakfast was prepared and brought to their room she didn’t have to get up and make it, as she did at home.
Billy shaved carefully and gave some thought to allowing a mustache to sprout. He left his upper lip unshaven. He dressed in the riding clothes he had bought in the village and was sitting at their little table when the maid brought what the locals called “a full English breakfast.” He woke his wife with a kiss, and she joined him for their morning meal.
“So what will your day be like?” she asked him, her mouth full of toast.
“I’ll take a ride over to the Curtis place with Stone and Peter and have a look at how the work is going there.”
“That interests you?”
“Building is one of my many interests.”
“Do they need any guarding here? Is that why you’re going?”
Billy shook his head. “They’re safe enough, since the Reverend Don got run out of the country, and all his people with him.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
They finished breakfast and Billy walked downstairs and out the rear door of the house to the stables, where the three horses had been saddled for their riders. They snorted, and their breath could be seen in the chill morning air. Billy greeted his mount with a stroke of the neck and offered her a sugar cube, which the horse quickly made disappear.
Peter appeared first, stretching his body and yawning, and Stone arrived soon after. They mounted and trotted off across the broad meadow before Windward Hall. They took the trail through the wood and emerged a hundred yards from the stone wall. Stone and Peter took the wall abreast, while Billy followed a few yards back. He was about to spur his horse on for the jump when something he saw ahead made him rein up and dismount.
He approached the stone wall and reached out to feel the two marks, one on a lower stone, one at the top of the wall. They were the marks of bullets striking the stone, and they hadn’t been there yesterday. Billy turned and looked back the way they had come, then focused his attention on the wood.
Al watched the third man, who had spoiled his aim, as he dismounted and inspected the wall. It had never occurred to him that someone might notice the marks where his bullets had struck. He watched as the man looked back, then trained his attention on the wood. Al shrank back behind a tree and saw the man walking toward him, leading his horse. He moved to another tree, then another. The man came relentlessly on, his eyes raking the edge of the wood. Al turned and ran back as far as the empty little house and waited there. If the man approached this far, he would kill him.
Billy walked through the first trees, his eyes sweeping the area, particularly the ground. He had gone only a few yards when the gleam of something in the sunlight got his attention. He bent and picked it up, then sniffed it. He avoided looking farther into the wood, because he knew a man was waiting there with a rifle. Rather, he slipped the brass shell casing into his jacket pocket, remounted his horse, and ran her toward the wall, clearing it easily, then rode on toward the house and its collection of parked workmen’s vehicles. He dismounted, tied his horse to a hitching post, and went into the house in search of Stone. He found him talking earnestly with Susan Blackburn, who held a book of wallpaper.
Billy waited until they had finished their conversation, then caught Stone’s eye and with a motion of his head, beckoned him into the hallway.
“What’s up, Billy?” Stone asked.
Billy fished the casing from his pocket and handed it to Stone. “I found two bullet marks in the stone wall, and I walked into the wood far enough to come across this.”
“Two-two-three?”
“Right — a military round.”
“I thought the army were all up on Salisbury Plain, not down here. Any idea when this was left in the wood?”
“The marks weren’t on the wall yesterday,” Billy replied. “I’d guess this morning. I think someone was further back in the wood, but I wouldn’t pursue an armed man into the trees. Are there any firearms in the house?”
“Half a dozen shotguns and a couple of deer rifles. They’re in a concealed case in the study.”
“With your permission, I’d like to arm myself and have a look around the wood.”
“Of course. Be careful, and for God’s sake don’t shoot anybody if you can possibly avoid it, and if you can’t, don’t kill him. The police around here don’t spend a lot of time dealing with men dead of gunshot wounds. They’d be all over us for days.” Stone explained how to open the gun closet.
“Well, I don’t want to make their day,” Billy replied, “but I will search the wood.”
“Do it carefully,” Stone said. “Do you want company?”
“No, thank you.” Billy left the house and got back onto his horse.
Al watched Billy through the trees as he rode back toward Windward Hall, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He thought he might wait for the two Barringtons to return; maybe he’d get a shot, after all.