Brutal Revenge by James Raven Read Free Book Online Page A

the hill on the
road.”
    “What about the fishing boats?”
    “All three have gone to bed in the
harbour,” Maclean said.
    Hodge jumped down on to the jetty and
handed round the shotguns. Parker took a ball of four nylon stockings from his
pocket and handed those out, too.
    Hodge pulled a face. “Are these really
necessary?”
    “It's best to be on the safe side,”
Maclean told him. “You probably won't even have to wear it as I doubt you'll
see anyone.”
    Hodge accepted his stocking with a measure
of reluctance and stuffed it into the side pocket of his anorak.
    A moment later all four were standing in a
huddled group on the jetty. Around them the wind was brewing, moaning
plaintively in the darkness like a dog lamenting the death of its beloved
owner.
    The night was no longer such an
impenetrable shroud. Their eyes had grown accustomed to it and vague black
outlines were beginning to take on a distinctive form. A hill rising like a
pyramid into the clouds, the chimney of a derelict 'black house', and what
looked like steps hewn out of bare rock climbing upwards from the jetty,
over-grown with weeds and heather.
    “I ask you,” Hodge whispered. “Who in his
right mind would want to live up here?”
    Stewart felt uneasy, too. “Well, come on,”
he said. “Let's get on with it. Nothing's going to get done if we stand around
here scratching ourselves.”
    “Right,” Maclean said. “But let's run
quickly through the plan. First we go to the harbour where you, Bob, disable
the fishing boats. And don't hang about. Just wrench out a few necessary parts.
We then drive up to the telephone exchange where you two” — he gestured towards
Stewart and Hodge — “mess up the equipment. It's not manned so you shouldn't
have any trouble there. Meanwhile, Parker and I will go on to Mor's house and
load the treasure into the van. We’ll pick you up on the way back. I drop you
off back here and while you load the treasure I go and pick up Bella from her
house. In all it should only take an hour and a half from start to finish. Then
it's back here and we're on our way.”
    Maclean looked at each of them.
    “Any questions?” he said. There were none.
“Then let's go.”
    They trundled up the steps and found a large
Bedford van parked on the narrow road at the top of the hill. Its tyres were
caked in dry mud and there was writing on the side that was indecipherable
under the grime. Here the wind was stronger and Stewart began to have some
misgivings about the weather.
    Looking up at the sky, he said, “If this
gets any worse it could make things bloody difficult on the way back.”
    “A storm wasn't forecast,” Maclean pointed
out.
    “You don't have to tell me that,” Stewart
said, his Scottish accent more pronounced than usual. “But that doesn't mean we
won't have one. Look at that sky. Not a frigging break in the cloud. And this
wind. I tell you I don't like it.”
    “Quit worrying,” Maclean told him. “It's
too late to turn back now anyway. Let's worry about how to get back once we
have the treasure.”
    Stewart shrugged his shoulders and
followed the others into the van. Maclean and Parker shared the front seat and
Hodge and Stewart crouched in the back on the dust-covered floor.
    When the headlamps were switched on they
poured light over a shabby road of weathered bitumen that was fringed by
desolate moorland. It was an inhospitable sight. Stark and lonely.
    “Are we likely to bump into anyone?”
Parker asked, thinking it distinctly unlikely.
    “Not at this time of the evening,” Maclean
assured him. “Mid-week, people usually go to bed double early. And believe me,
they need to after the kind of work these people put into the average day.”
    The engine spluttered into life and the
van jogged off along the road. Suddenly, the moon appeared through a gap in the
cloud cover, spilling a pale wintry glow over the stark, undulating wilderness.
At the roadside were a couple of abandoned crofts and ruined