Treasure Sleuth (11 page)

Mark lay motionless, his dead weight being held in place by a blanket of brambles. It was a good jump. He was positioned so well into the hedge line that passers-by would do just that. Pass by. Getting out of the hedge would be another issue all together, but for now this would do. Mark listened for the security guard. Had he heard the brambles snap with Mark's jump? Mark could sense no presence in the lane beside him so it seemed like the security guard was none the wiser. Probably still stargazing. The diesel engines shut off and several doors closed. Mark moved his arm as slowly and as quietly as he could to bring the night vision goggles back into line with his eyes and adjusted the focus.

The world was green again. He waited and watched out of small gaps in the brambles as the distant voices got closer. Mark held his breath as a gang of men walked along the track right by where he lay in the hedge. They were carrying an assortment of weapons and were using red light torches. That confirmed their status with the farm or the building site. They were not supposed to be here anymore than he was. Mark knew the red lights would allow them to see in the dark without drawing any unwanted attention. Unlike normal white light, the red can't be seen from as close as a few feet away. Good but not as good as night vision. Mark, he had the edge. He had the better vision. And they didn't know he was here. Yet.

The men walked down the track in silence, towards the connecting track. And into the path of the waiting security guard.

Keep going you assholes.

They passed by Mark's hiding spot and rounded the corner and out of Mark's sight. He waited for the inevitable shouting from the security guard as he gave chase.

Ha, let's see how fast you all run back to your trucks now.
But there was no running. No chase. Mark closed his eyes and concentrated on the muffled voices. Difficult to make out, but there was no shock surprise. No sudden movements. They were expecting the guard to be there. Mark waited until he was sure they had moved on before he began to move himself. Sinking his legs further into the bushy hedge, he gradually brought his body upright enough to reach out to one of the tree branches and use it for support. Doing chin-ups in the gym must have been designed for situations like this. Mark pulled himself out of the hedge in one smooth easy action, a half empty backpack offering no resistance compared to the weights he was used to pulling up with a chain wrapped around his waist. Using the tree to lower himself to the ground, he crept towards the track connection.

They were gone. Mark knew he didn't have the time luxury of aborting the plan, but he also felt uneasy about the gang's plan.

What were they up to? Surely they didn't know about the gold? Was it the church itself? The lead. That was it. Were they going to steal the lead from the church roof?

It's a common occurrence especially for churches in the middle of the country. And that would definitely ruin things tonight and possibly for the future. There was no way Mark wanted to end up taking the heat for burglary of lead from a church roof.

He turned back out of the small track and made his way back up towards the barn area where the trucks were parked. He needed to take a closer look. He cautiously approached the open gates and peered into the barn courtyard. A Mitsubishi off-roader sat beside a Ford pick-up truck, both poised for a fast getaway. Mark stood in the opening, covered in complete darkness and watched in bright green night vision for any signs of movement. The place was empty of life. He walked around the vehicles taking in as many details as he could, making a mental note of the license plates.

He considered torching the trucks. The flames could be seen from the church and it would stop them from stealing anything. They'd no doubt rush back to the trucks and clear the path for Mark to get his stash. It would also cause unwanted attention for them and prevent them from escaping, leaving them no choice but to leg it on foot.

Mark reached into his pocket and wrapped his fingers around his lighter. As he did, he looked through the windows of the truck and saw how close the barn was. There was a good chance a high flame could reach the edge of the wooden structure and it wouldn't take much for the barn to burn down too. He let go of the lighter reaching instead for his knife. Opening it out and clicking into place he plunged it into the small tire of the trailer. It popped with a bang and then hissed violently for a few seconds before sinking flat into the muddy ground. Mark then walked round to the off-roader and bent down at the side and put his arm into the wheel arch under the filler cap. His fingers clawing their way through clumpy dried mud until he felt the tube pipe high up in the arch. Guiding the knife up, he gently pressed it against the rubber hose before jabbing his arm in a short, sharp, stabbing motion. The metal pierced the rubber, cutting a good slit an inch or so long. As he removed the blade fuel spilled out over his hand and the chunky rear tire.

"There. Not gonna be such a fast getaway after all is it boys?" Mark whispered to himself with satisfaction.

He left the courtyard and headed back down the track towards the church. Pressing his walkie-talkie button he blipped Abby. "Big Joe to Little Jo," he said in a soft voice.

"Hey Big Joe, how's it looking?" Abby came back.

"You were right, we do have company. The trucks have parked up at the barn and a gang looks like they are about to steal lead from the church roof."

"Are you kidding? Why would they do that?"

"Money. The thieving bastards will sell the lead to a scrap metal dealer. I'm going in closer to see if I can get the stash or not, so don't worry if you don't hear from me for a while, this ain't going to be as straight forward as I expected."

"Be careful Big Joe, I'll be here ready."

Mark got to the gate where he and Abby shared their first kiss only a few hours earlier. He stood up onto the gate to get a better view. Adjusting the night vision focus he had a clear view of the church and graveyard. Strange. It all looked clear. He looked over towards the bright green glow of the building site but there was no movement there either. He climbed over the gate into the field and lightly ran across the grass towards the church gate. As soon as he was within twenty yards he stopped and crouched on his knees. Scanning the area it was all clear.

The window-less and door-less buildings had a dark eerie look to them. To Mark this had been open fields with a peaceful and calm feel and now these dark blocks gave the place a sinister feel. He rose and ran towards the church jumping up onto the stone wall that separated the church ground from the farmer's fields and landed softly on the other side, surrounded by headstones.

Mark looked across to the grave that held his stash, but then walked past it, checking out the roof and continuously scanning the area for any sign of the gang or security. He circled the church entirely and came back to the grave. The coast was clear.

Crouching down and sliding off his backpack he reached in and pulled out a canvas bag. He unclipped the plastic catch and took hold of the metal spade, folding it out into position and screwing the lock-hold into place. One last look around and then he started to dig. The soil was soft and made for an easy dig. After eight minutes Mark's spade hit a hard pack giving a welcome thud. It was his plastic wrap. He jabbed the spade to the side cutting into the soil around the edges before reaching down with his hand to dislodge the package from its resting place.

At the precise moment his fingers touched the packet a diesel engine chugged into life and lights shone over to the church casting tall grave stone shadows up the side. Mark jumped back as though the packet was electrified and scrambled to the base of the wall for cover.

Did I just trigger an alarm?
Mark thought to himself.
Couldn't be. Must be a coincidence. Keep cool.

Despite his cool exterior, Mark's heart was pounding and thoughts were racing. The diesel engine was getting closer, lights flashing up and down the side of the church as the machine bounced its way across the field. Mark laid his body down against the back of the wall, trying to keep his breathing under control but it was hopeless. He couldn't believe he was about to get caught for retrieving his own stuff. It would have been understandable and a little easier to accept if he was getting caught raiding someone else's valuables.

He'd been in plenty of forbidden places before and gotten away with it. Why now? How did they know he was here? His night vision had helped him remain invisible, a shadow in the dark. Did they have night vision too? Couldn't have, his night vision goggles would have picked up their infra-red.

We're they expecting me? How? Abby? Surely not. No way.

The sound of men's voices were close enough to be heard over the chug of the diesel engine. Mark looked across at the grave, his hole fully visible and lit up like bonfire night. The backpack sat precariously next to the freshly dug mound. Mark crawled along the grass using the wall for cover until he was at the far end of the grounds. He crouched, backing up on his feet, hands sprawled out in front ready for an Olympic sprint. As soon as they crossed the wall he would take them out with a surprise attack from behind and then run for his stash. He knew if he was quick and precise he would be able to disappear into the darkness. He was ready for a fight.

Mark moved his goggles up onto his forehead and watched the lights get brighter on the church wall. So bright that they reflected back and Mark could see his own hands without the use of night vision. He was visible. Dimly lit but still visible. Suddenly a man jumped over the wall and appeared in line with Mark.

"Where the fuck you going?" one of the gang shouted.

"I gotta take a piss," the man shouted back.

"You fucking kidding? Now's not the fucking time."

"Shut the fuck up, otherwise I'll piss on your grave."

Mark didn't move a muscle. There was no way these idiots knew he was here. The lights turned and the graveyard went dark again as the machine drove on by. Mark could see the orange glow of the man's cigarette and hear his urine pool on the ground in front of him.

The man let out a sigh and flicked the cigarette over to Mark's backpack before turning on his torch and jumping back over the wall. The smoker's cough in the distance told Mark he should be clear. Peering above the wall he could see the man rejoining the gang as they ran alongside an excavator chugging its way across the field leaving deep dirty caterpillar track marks as it went.

Mark pressed his walkie-talkie button.

"Little Jo, do you read me?"

"Hey Big Joe, you ready?"

"No not yet. Listen. Change of plan. Time for plan B, you understand? Time for plan B."

"I understand Big Joe."

"But first, there's a telephone box on the main road next to the post office. Stop there and dial 999. Ask for the police and tell them a robbery is in progress, building machinery at Underexe farm and then hang up and meet me at the plan B spot. Remember, use the public phone, not your mobile."

Abby got the message, pressed the car's red starter button, and drove out of the tractor sales forecourt where she had been waiting. She roared down the main country road, the next village only moments away. The old fashioned red telephone box sat on the pavement next to the old post office. Abby pulled up, left the engine burbling away and opened the creaky door to the telephone box.

A sign said "NO COINS, CARDS ONLY" but that didn't matter tonight. Emergency calls were always free. Lifting the receiver her fingers pressed 911 before the tone reminded her she wasn't at home. Pressing the nine button three times got her through to the control center.

"Which emergency service do you require?"

Pausing for a moment to contort her face, Abby spoke in a manly voice simply saying, "Police."

Mark checked the packet and it was all secure. He roughly tugged the bag over it and then got to work filling in the hole, before stamping it down with his body weight.

He stood up and gave a respectful nod to the head stone. "Goodbye Sir Godfrey, thanks for looking after this," he said.

He secured the backpack over his shoulders and made a run for it. The field gate was wide open, a broken chain lay on the floor. He got to the narrow church track and ran towards the T-junction, stopping to look up left where lights could be seen at the barn.

The truck began to pull out of the courtyard, excavator fastened securely to the trailer. A cloud of dust rose, and then the Mitsubishi off-roader followed with the gang members inside. The idiots had made such a racket, it would have been impossible for the local residents to ignore. All it would take was one of them to see Mark run past as they peered out from behind their curtains or make a note of the license plate on the Jag and he would be caught up in the robbery too.

But he had a plan B.

Instead of following the robbers back up the track, he turned and ran further down it. The track was a two mile long loop before it rejoined the road near the next village. Mark had other ideas. Plan B entailed being in another village entirely. Six miles by car. Quarter of a mile by foot. But that meant crossing the river Exe.

Fourteen foot deep in places and with a current strong enough to give the fittest of swimmers a tough time, Mark was in no position to take up the challenge with expensive night vision equipment and ten kilo of gold strapped to his back. Plus, with the extra distance Abby had to drive he knew the walkie-talkies would be out of range. This was no time for drowning. Mark knew this area, and if he followed the field south a short distance past where the cows herd during the day, the river thins out at the site of an old Roman crossing point. It hadn't rained in weeks so the river was as low as ever.

Mark reached the shallow ford crossing point and, without even slowing down, trotted through the inch deep flow barely making a splash. He was on the other side and more importantly, far enough away from any attention the gang would be creating. The only slight issue was this old Roman crossing belonged to a farm and was private property. Still, at this hour there shouldn't be any problem. Mark ran up the other side, a stone track lead to the farm drive. Once here he slowed down to a walk, looking around for any movement. Passing the front door he heard a faint click and suddenly a brilliant white light lit up the driveway and several farm machines. A motion detector flood light could be triggered by passing deer or even a small fox. There wasn't normally an alarm, it was more of a welcome for the owners arriving home in the dark or a deterrent for casual thieves. Mark instinctively bolted, just in case anyone got up for a cursory glance out of the window, not slowing until back in the dark once again.