The cultured voice fairly thrummed with satisfaction. “He’s heading North.”
“North you say? Are ye sure?”
“Of course I’m sure.” Irritation replaced the earlier satisfaction. “He’s heading for the farm, make sure he doesn’t arrive; then await further instructions.”
The sound of the dial tone told Bland his boss expected total compliance with his commands. It wasn’t his job to understand, simply to carry out orders without question. But the ramifications…
“How did last night’s shindig go?” Simeon downshifted gears to take the tight bend ahead. The road beyond the bend narrowed to a single lane track as it approached a low stone bridge before forking sharply to the left then right to split in a ‘Y’ junction. To the right the way to the western Isles, to the left his brother’s farm, and home away from home. And, Simeon drew in a deep breath, after the horrendous schedule of the last couple of months he looked forward to seeing his twin and his younger brother.
“Do you remember Rosie?” Sacha’s voice filled the car as he approached the bridge, slowing the car with another down shift of gears.
“I do.” Simeon smiled, who could forget the women who’d besotted his twin at the Valentine ball earlier in the year.
“What the hell—?”
Cars block the road to the left, the one he wanted, so he slowed and lowered his window. “What's the problem? Why's the road blocked? Has there been an accident? Is anyone hurt?”
Beyond the single car slewed across the road and the man approaching his window Simeon failed to spot anyone else.
“Not at all. Please exit the car with your hands above your head.” The broad west coast Scottish accent, sent a chill down his spine, and the gun aimed in his direction persuaded him not to argue the point.
“Simeon? Simeon? What’s going on?”
Before he could answer the stranger grabbed his arm and pulled him away from his car before aim his weapon at the petrol tank.
Click HERE for more awesome Tuesday Tales