IMPOSTURE: Hunters become the hunted in this gripping murder mystery, Ray Clark [classic books for 10 year olds .txt] 📗

They’d been friends for fifty years. Born around the same time, grew up on the same street, went to the same school and spent a lot of time together after school and outside of work, taking part in similar sporting interests: darts, snooker, badminton. Only difference was, Brian was married but Sam was a confirmed bachelor. He was also very intelligent, loved puzzles and studied people. He couldn’t help it.

“It is, but I can’t say what. Maybe he’s taken over from them four that were in there before.”

“Probably why he’s changed the name,” said Brian.

“But what kind of a company is Blockheads?”

“If it’s anything to do with the uniform it must be some kind of military establishment.”

“If it was anything to do with them surely there’d be a lot more people hanging around.”

“Well, I don’t mean government,” said Brian, “maybe it’s something to do with an Army & Navy store.”

“It’s a big place, and why still only one person?” said Sam, glancing at his friend. “And there’s something else that bothers me – the same bloke was sat here a few weeks back. Middle of the afternoon, not long after we’d finished dinner.”

“What was he doing then?”

“Watching that place. He brought some dinner with him, and a flask, and he was sitting there for about two hours.”

“Then what did he do?” asked Brian.

“Don’t know. I was sitting at my desk so I was able to watch him for quite some time. I went to make a cup of tea and when I came back he’d gone.”

“Well, there you are, then. He’s taken over the place.”

“So if he was taking over, why sit outside observing for an hour or two?”

“Perhaps checking it out. But if you’re that bothered why don’t you report the matter?”

“Who do we tell, and what do we tell them?”

“Just a minute.” Brian stood up.

“What’s up?” asked Sam.

“That green four-wheel drive, just inside the fence.”

“What about it?” Sam asked.

Brian adjusted his glasses but he still couldn’t see it. “Can you see the number plate from here?”

“Don’t be stupid, I can only just see the car.”

Brian walked over to the chain-link fence, glanced at the plate and made a mental note, before returning to Sam.

“What was that all about?”

“Before I came out to join you there was a report on the news, from the police, asking to keep an eye out for a dark green Evoque that’s been involved in something.”

“What?”

“I can’t remember now.”

“Is that the one?”

Brian felt odd inside, weak. He sat down on the bench. “I think so.” He stared at Sam. “And there’s another four-wheel drive a bit further back; a white one. All the left-hand side stoved in.”

Sam stared back at Brian. “What the hell’s going on?”

“I don’t know. But now you know who to ring and what to tell them.”

Chapter Fifty-four

What a fucking mess, thought Anthony.

Greed. Self-absorption. Vanity. Call it what you like, it all led to the same thing. Failure.

Anthony reminisced about their humble beginnings, when each of them had nothing. Dead end jobs, where you worked all hours and earned very little but had so much fire, so much energy, so much determination to change the world, and everything in it. Make a name for yourself.

Well they certainly did that but for all the wrong reasons. They started with Zoe’s money, but instead of going down a straight and narrow path they took the road into darkness, which meant they must all have been bad apples. No surprise they ended up the way they did. Michael and James dead; Zoe possibly – he didn’t know, yet. Anthony was on his way to certain death, despite what he had brought with him.

He was sitting on the wooden seat in front of Transmech. He knew the company had been there some years but he didn’t know anyone in it.

Anthony stared over at CDC. What used to be CDC. The Lord only knew why the name had been changed to Blockheads but Anthony could guess. That’s what they were.

All of their vehicles were outside, which surprised him. The white Overfinch that he hadn’t seen since the accident – still damaged. A green Evoque accompanied it, Zoe’s Ferrari Diablo, Michael’s Audi TT, and his own BMW. There was also a big white Mercedes van. Anthony knew nothing about that. He’d never seen it before. Whatever the driver – as Zoe had called him, because that’s what he apparently called himself – was up to, he had really done his homework.

That thought frightened him even more. What did he have in store for Anthony on the inside?

Would it matter?

Not that Anthony was feeling confident at all but he had digested Zoe’s email. She’d told him all about the person who had them, how long he’d had them and what he’d done to James and Michael.

Sitting on the seat, Anthony wondered whether or not he should have called the police. That man had committed murder. Kettle, pot, black came to mind, halting that thought.

Calling the police would have been a bad idea. If he had, they would have been here by now, arresting him for the murder of his uncle and aunt. He would have spent the rest of his life in prison, which might have been easier than going up against the driver, given what he’d heard.

However, self-preservation kicked in, and Anthony decided he would take his chances. If he came out of it alive, he would still be free, possibly penniless, though he suspected he could work on that one. He’d never survive prison. He simply couldn’t do it.

Anthony stared into the carrier bag he’d brought with him. On Zoe’s instructions, in case everything went tits-up, he’d obtained a can of mace pepper spray. He had a rope and a gag.