Colin took a pair of field glasses from his rucksack and scanned the area around him. He could see North Hessary Tor to his left; the prison was straight in front of him. He moved swiftly on with his search; he didn’t want to think too much about that place. To his right he could make out the small cluster of buildings that included Sir Godfrey’s weekend retreat.
He moved across the rough terrain towards the village. He looked through the glasses again. The Range Rover was parked outside the cottage, but there was no sign of anyone being up and about yet. He checked his watch; it was almost half past nine. Sir Godfrey was having a lie in it would appear!
Suddenly there was activity outside the cottage. Colin recognised his target. He was wearing a familiar brand waxed jacket; some faded red cord trousers and a flat cap. Sir Godfrey threw a large blanket and a holdall into the back of the vehicle and carefully placed a sizeable wicker hamper in the passenger seat. With a glance left and right to see if his near neighbours were watching him, he jumped into the driver’s seat and sped off.
Colin watched as the Range Rover headed towards Tor Royal Lane and set off on foot in the same direction. Colin’s map showed that the village was surrounded by moorland. Several footpaths across the moor passed through the village, including one leading west to Sampford Spiney and one leading south to Nun's Cross and Erme Head.
Tor Royal Lane itself appeared to lead down from the village to a disused tin mine, about two miles to the south-east. If Penrose was headed there it would take Colin thirty minutes minimum to catch up with him. He tried not to think about what the old sod would be getting up to while he was trudging across country. He looked again at his map; then he scanned the surrounding fields for signs of life. All over the moorlands he could see dots of colour.
“Anoraks!” he whispered, not being derogatory; they were anoraks, highly coloured ones, with boys and girls aged fourteen to nineteen inside them, walking from what his map informed him was the National Park Visitor Centre which was an activity hub based where an old hotel had once stood.
“What is he up to?” thought Colin. His look at the map showed that further on from the tin mine were the Fox Tor Mires. He had read somewhere that this sometime boggy area was what the Grimpen Mire had been based on in that Sherlock Holmes story. All a load of tosh though, according to the picture they had put in the book he had read. That showed a herd of sheep grazing slap bang in the middle of it without a care in the world. There wasn’t much chance of the Mires swallowing Sir Godfrey up!
The distance between the walker and the Range Rover was closing. Colin could see the rear door was open. As he continued his steady yomp across the wet moorland he finally worked out what the old man was up to!
“The crafty bastard; he’s posing as a volunteer. In an hour or so the first bunch of kids will start arriving near the Mires, and then they still have around an hour’s walking; probably more as they’ll be knackered. The hamper has got lots of food and hot drinks I’ll bet, and the blanket in the back would give them a comfortable dry place to rest up for a while if they’re struggling. Sir Godfrey will be the perfect host for groups of two or three as they stumble across his unscheduled pit stop; the ones that are in danger are the poor souls that get detached from the group and are soldiering on alone. The first sign of a blister or a touch of cramp and he’ll have them in the back of the Range Rover and could take them somewhere they don’t want to go! What could he have had in that holdall he threw in the back with the blanket? Shit! It doesn’t bear thinking about.”
With the weather closing in even more, Colin got as near as he dared. There wasn’t a lot of cover out here, but the kit he had selected on the advice of Rusty gave him as much camouflage as he was going to get. He had baulked at the idea of wearing the hat that look like a clod of earth; that was fine in the movies but walking along the side of a B road, he would have stuck out like a sore thumb.
Colin was prone now; watching the scene unfold through his glasses. Here they come! Penrose is sat on the tail gate of the Range Rover and holding a thermos flask up high in his left hand. A couple of kids are stopping to chat. Others are walking on; good for you, keep going! The pattern continues. The hours tick by. Colin has a couple of squares of his chocolate to keep him going. It’s cold and wet out here; but he knows he has to keep watching and waiting. Gradually, the anoraks start to thin out and the gaps between them get longer and longer. It won’t be long now!
About three minutes after a couple of boys had set off again towards the Visitor Centre, warmed with a cup of coffee or tea; across the bleak stretch of moorland a single red anorak appeared. Colin saw it was a girl of about fifteen, blonde hair plastered to her head with the rain. She was limping.
Sir Godfrey walked quickly towards her and with one arm around her shoulders and the other under her legs he swept her off her feet and hurried back to the Range Rover. Colin watched as the girl almost collapsed onto the blanket; she was too tired to be aware of any danger. Initially, Colin thought Sir Godfrey was going to drive off immediately, but he leaned into the back and started to touch the young girl.
Colin looked in both directions; there were no anoraks in sight. It was now or never! He was up and running, his field glasses bouncing on his chest and the rucksack hitting his back with every step. He covered the distance between his hiding place and the Range Rover quicker than he could have imagined. The girl was lying on her back; her anorak was off and Sir Godfrey was talking to her softly:-
“Jessica” he said “I’m just going to loosen your clothing. I’m worried about your core body temperature; you might be suffering from exposure. I recommend we get you warmed up with a brisk massage.”
Sir Godfrey was startled when he heard Colin scrambling on the wet grass and loose stones; it was difficult for him to stop once he reached the vehicle.
“What the hell!” he began, but Colin had hold of him by the front of his coat. It was no contest. The younger man overpowered him in seconds. Colin was tempted to brain him there and then; there were enough small rocks at hand to do the job. The red face of the man beneath him and the heavy breathing he had heard when he was leaning over the defenceless girl was evidence enough for Colin; there was no first aid coming her way. Sir Godfrey was aroused and planning to rape her.
Colin bundled Penrose into the passenger seat of the Range Rover and twisting his arms back over his head he handcuffed him to the headrest; he wasn’t going anywhere. Sir Godfrey was cursing and swearing; telling Colin what would happen to him when his friend the Lord Lieutenant heard about this outrage. Colin had heard enough; he grabbed a roll of duct tape from the rucksack and once he had torn off a strip and roughly wrapped it over the old man’s mouth, silence reigned.
In the back of the vehicle Jessica was still confused and barely conscious; Colin realised that she didn’t have a clue what was going on. He found one of the flasks in the hamper had plenty of tea to spare; he poured her a cup and added a couple of lumps of sugar. Penrose had come well prepared! Colin eased Jessica out of the Range Rover and gathered up the blanket. He wrapped it around her shoulders and encouraged her to finish up the warm drink.
Colin looked out across the moorland behind the vehicle and spotted some more dots of colour perhaps two hundred yards away. He left Jessica the flask and some food. He pointed off in the direction of the approaching youngster and said her mates would be along in a minute; they would help her get back safely to the Visitor Centre.