Minds That Hate by Bill Kitson Read Free Book Online Page B

could guess who Rathmell was going to meet. His guess was wildly inaccurate.
    When Rathmell turned onto the moor road, Tucker allowed his car to coast to a stop and got out.
    As Appleyard headed towards the meeting place, he was so deep in thought he almost missed the turning. He swung off the main road, slowing to avoid missing the next landmark. He noticed a car parked alongside the dry-stone wall. He saw that the driver had left his vehicle, apparently to relieve himself. Appleyard hoped he hadn’t startled the man.
    Tucker was surprised, although not as Appleyard imagined. He heard the sound of the approaching vehicle before it came into view. He expected Gemma Fletcher’s flashy red convertible. To avoid suspicion Tucker adopted the stance of a man in the act of urinating. It was natural to glance over one’s shoulder at the intrusion on so private a function; Tucker was glad he was only simulating the act or his surprise might have provoked an accident. It wasn’t Gemma Fletcher’s car. Nor was it a female behind the wheel. Was this coincidence, or was the driver on his way to meet Rathmell? If so, to what purpose? It was understandable to want a secluded spot for an illicit romantic assignation, but this was obviously not the case. So why the secrecy? A meeting neither party wanted witnessed, that was obvious. Tucker’s journalistic instinct told him there might be more to this rendezvous than the adultery he’d set out to expose. Back to watching and waiting. But at least there was the possibility of something worth waiting for.
    Tucker waited almost an hour. The sun was hidden by low cloud and the wind blew cold. He was about to get back into his car when he heard the sound of approaching vehicles. As the first of them came into view, Tucker recognized it as Rathmell’s. He watched it speed past, noting that Rathmell was alone. Although his quest centred on Rathmell, the man he’d been meeting in such secrecy interested Tucker more.
    The car was travelling faster than on the outward leg. Despite this Tucker was confident he’d be able to read the number plate. The ground on the opposite side of the wall rose steeply, so his eyes were almost at road level.
    Tucker raised his binoculars and adjusted the focus. As he concentrated on the number plate, his vision was filled with a solid wall of white. Before Tucker realized what had happened, the car sped past and receded into the distance. The fading light had caused the car’s automatic headlamps to switch on. Tucker swore virulently at the trio of sheep grazing peacefully on the verge. They stared back curiously, before returning to their afternoon tea.
     
    The meeting had been a great success. Zydrumas emerged from the farmhouse, shook hands with the farmer and wandered to the end of the yard. He paused and lit a cigarette. His client was an ambitious man. He’d outlined plans for the development of the business. These would involve Zydrumas and his workforce. Part of the farm was on heavy clay. This made production difficult. The farmer intended to install tunnel greenhouses to enable a range of produce to be grown all year round. He was also planning to acquire two other farms, one in Lincolnshire and another in Scotland.
    Extra labour would be required. ‘What I need is a reliable workforce at reasonable cost. That’s where you come in. I want you to start straightaway. Leave Juris to run things here. He’s capable of controlling the other workers and reliable enough to take charge when I’m not about. That’s going to be increasingly often.’
    Zydrumas stubbed his cigarette out and opened the gate. The farmer had just made his day. He was about to do the same for Juris.
     
    Billy reached the allotments. The Immigrunts would have to stop work soon. Then they’d walk back along this track. Back from the work they’d stolen from people like Billy, towards the houses they’d stolen from people like Billy.
    This was what he’d been told. Billy