The man who delivered untraceable cars didn’t enjoy the drive from the mid-western city, but his firm belief in money made it more of a trip and less of a chore.
The delivery was made and his job was done as the man with the scarred face accepted the keys to the vehicle.
Now that it was in the client’s possession and being driven away towards the small outback town, he was retired.
His feelings on the subject became immediately obvious as he fell into the plane seat recently vacated by Horton and drifted straight off to sleep.
Horton pulled in at the first roadhouse the town’s outskirts offered, and like Scott, he too noticed the young girl who worked the breakfast tables before she left for school. He looked at Sudovich’s rough drawn map, and then listened to the girl’s directions as she pointed at the road that ran past the roadhouse.
“The place you’re looking for is out along the highway towards the airport. When you approach the first bridge about two miles out, you turn off to the right. You’ll see a dirt track, follow it and it will bring you to a gate, go through it and just follow the track.”
“What’s down there, do you know?”
“I don’t know what’s there. I’ve only heard Uncle Ray talk about it. I do know that it is straight across the river from the caravan park.”
Horton’s ears pricked and he asked her for directions to the park. She told him and then walked back into the shop.
He gazed off into the distance, and she wondered as she pushed through the glass doors of the shop front if he’d noticed her departure.
After adding fuel to the car, he purchased three jerry cans, filling each with petrol before he drove to a super market where he bought dehydrated and tinned food.
It was easy to find the caravan park, and he pulled in and booked a cabin for one night. The proprietor of the park asked the normal questions reserved for travellers, but Horton gave little away.
Horton’s only question was of access to the river as he felt he might go for a swim later in the day.
The park cabins cool shade revitalized him, and he went to work on his overnight bag. Removing all of his spare clothes he felt the bags base for his pistol and a U.S army issue combat knife.
He cleaned the pistol and filled its two spare magazines. The weapon was in new condition, as it had only fired two rounds in its life, and that was three years ago. Since that time it had lain buried in water proof wrapping by the head stone of someone named Samuels, in an historic metropolitan cemetery.
The bullets were in very good condition too.
Horton had similar weapons buried in cemeteries in many different cities around the world. He’d chosen a 9mm weapon on this occasion partly because the projectiles were metal coated and less prone to corrosion.
He showered under cold water without soap, knowing that if there were dogs at the place he was going, they would surely be alerted earlier to the fragrance of the soap’s perfume.
Horton, whose mind was clear, but in a state of near exhaustion, dared not lie down on the bed. If he did he would most likely sleep until the next morning. Not wanting to risk this, he sat in a chair which had a clear view of the doorway and cat napped.
CHAPTER 34
End It With A Lie Page 34