Am I Being Followed?

M. Hutchison G.

Description

He has recently given up his pleasant, secure and quite well-paid job, and is struggling to survive in an oppressive new set of circumstances. Utterly downcast, he is beginning to think that there is some truth in what certain people say, that a person who doesn't believe in God is inclined to change their mind when they get into serious difficulties from which there seems to be no way out.But it isn't as simple as this, he realises. Would he be paying so much attention to Linda's religious beliefs if she had been a 'plain Jane' he wonders, or if her father had been a little less imposing?One thing is certain, however. He is in a very dangerous situation and there seems to be no way out.

Sujets

• Thriller

Informations

• Publié par: Troubador Publishing Ltd
• Date de parution: 28 juillet 2021
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781800466203
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

Copyright © 2021 G. M. Hutchison

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study,
or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents
Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in
any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the
publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with
the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries
concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.

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ISBN 978 1800466 203

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.


Matador is an imprint of Troubador Publishing Ltd


contents
chapter one
chapter two
chapter three
chapter four
chapter five
chapter six
chapter seven
chapter eight
chapter nine
chapter ten
chapter eleven
chapter twelve
chapter thirteen
chapter fourteen
chapter fifteen
chapter sixteen
chapter seventeen
chapter eighteen
chapter nineteen
chapter twenty
chapter twenty-one
chapter twenty-two
chapter twenty-three
chapter twenty-four
chapter twenty-five
chapter twenty-six
chapter twenty-seven
chapter twenty-eight
chapter twenty-nine
chapter thirty


chapter one
I drew into a lay-by and reached for my flask. Since this was the last time I would be making a journey such as this I didn’t feel as nervous as I usually did.
I had known from the start that it was wrong to do work of this kind but, so far, my conscience hadn’t bothered me very much. Instead, my main concern had been to make sure that I didn’t get caught, or something like that. Caught by whom I wasn’t sure but, whoever they were, I felt certain they posed a serious threat to my well-being. Not today, however. I could relax and listen to some music.
I couldn’t decide which piece to play and before long I got bogged down thinking about what Pastor Mackenzie had said about the universe. It was the sun beginning to beat down on the car roof which had started me off on this, the fact that such a far-distant heavenly body could emit rays that were making me, here in this car, right now, feel uncomfortable. This undeniable fact certainly touched on some of the things he had said, in a very down-to-earth fashion. I didn’t want to lower the window, however, because of the noise from the passing traffic.
With no fresh air to break my train of thought I continued mulling over some of the points the Pastor had made. The universe, according to him, with all its planets, stars and galaxies, declared forcefully to those who studied it with unblinkered eyes that God existed, was all powerful, and possessed an intelligence that bore a certain similarity to our own but was immeasurably superior to it. As did the oceans, too, with all the mysteries contained in their unfathomable depths, and not forgetting the dry land either, he would go on, with all its trees, shrubs, flowers and vegetation.
It was when he added man to his list that I began to part company with him. I thought it strange that someone like him, in the business of loving his fellow men, should seem to have such a low opinion of them and always be describing their limitations.
Man, with all the understanding he has gained from a study of nature, he would point out, is still in awe of the greater part of it and, with all his scientific prowess, can’t even create the simplest of life forms. Nor, in all this breathtaking spectacle, he would frequently add, had there ever appeared naturally so much as one plant or animal that was in every respect the same as any of the others.
I wondered how he could have reached many of his pet conclusions without taking the opinions of the scientists fully into account. After all, Evolution was now confirmed in the text books. But this objection wouldn’t do, I soon found out. Science was demonstrable fact, he would declare, whereas Evolution, strictly speaking, was only a theory often and quite wrongly used to elevate conjecture over proof. And anyway, as he would even more often assert, “Evolution, in certain respects, was probably part of The Divine Plan, too.”
I wondered what he would think of me if he knew what I was doing right now. It would be putting it mildly to say that he wouldn’t approve, although this wouldn’t give rise to any real problems, I felt, since this would be the last run. I would be law-abiding again after this.
I glanced in the mirror and saw the driver of a car, which had drawn into the lay-by behind me, get out and walk round to the front of his vehicle. Emptying the contents of my flask into the cup, I tilted my head backward to ensure that the last dregs reached my mouth and, as I did so, someone tapped on the car window, a visitor whom I saw at once was the driver of the nearby car.
He was a well-built man, not much older than myself, I could see. He was clean-shaven and wore a well-cut leather jerkin. I lowered the window.
“Sorry to trouble you,” he said, smiling and leaning in towards me. “Do you happen to have a spanner or a pair of pliers I could borrow?”
I laid the flask and the empty cup on the floor and, as I turned in my seat to get out of the car, the man stepped back and, to my horror, brought a small black handgun out of his trouser pocket.
“Give me the package,” he ordered, pointing the weapon at me menacingly.
Although his features still showed traces of the polite, enquiring look they had at first worn, his smile seemed forced now and his eyes stared threateningly.
“The package,” he repeated, in a harsher tone.
As I reached into the back of the car and brought the package over the seat onto my lap, he ordered me to get out of the car.
“Leave the package on the seat and go down to the boot,” he snapped, motioning in that direction with his free hand.
As I walked towards the rear of the vehicle I half-turned and, out of the corner of my eye, saw him lay the package on the ground, steadying it with his foot as he tore at the wrapping.
“Get back in the car,” he then ordered, gruffly gesturing with the gun.
As I sat down behind the steering wheel he stood outside, motionless, staring at me, one hand holding the torn package at his side, the other pointing the gun at me.
During most of the time on these trips my nerves had been on edge. Spasms of apprehension, anxiety and fear had surged through me continually as I had imagined the various dangers I might be facing. Now that the worst had happened, all I could feel was that I had done something wrong. What would Andy have done in these circumstances? I asked myself, looking for an excuse. Surely anyone, even Andy himself, having a gun pointed at them from close up like this, would have handed the package over as I had just done?
I watched the man go back to his car, throwing the package onto the passenger seat, before he settled behind the wheel and drove off.
I painfully realised just what I had done wrong as I watched the vehicle disappear into the distance. I wouldn’t have lost the package so easily on the previous run, or on the very first one for that matter, I told myself. Keyed up and suspicious of every vehicle I encountered, I would have seen the arrival of another car in the lay-by as a threat. I would have driven off, therefore, as I am sure Andy would have done, too. Instead, I had sat dreamily in the car, drinking tea and thinking about the universe.
I felt annoyed at first that Andy hadn’t warned me that something like this might happen. On the contrary, according to him, the deliveries were just an easy way of making money.
As an excuse this wasn’t good enough, though, I soon realised. The very nature of the work had carried a risk without Andy having to describe it. The plain fact was, I had slipped up, to say the least. I hadn’t been smart enough. I shouldn’t have stopped in the lay-by, or I should have driven off when the other car appeared. My brief excursion into Andy’s world, I reflected dismally, had now proved as unsuccessful as most of my other ventures in life.
From the car park the Old Toll Bar didn’t look very inviting. I felt the scene looked just about right on this occasion, aware of the contrast in being a bearer of bad news rather than a dispirited employee looking for succour in the warm and friendly atmosphere.
Karen was sitting at the usual table.
“I’ve been waiting for you”, she told me, an unexpected note of urgency in her voice. “Let’s go out to the car.”
“Where’s Andy?” I asked her. “I was supposed to meet him here.”
Something else had gone wrong, I could see. She couldn’t possibly know about what had happened to me and yet she looked every bit as keyed up as I was.
“Andy’s hurt,” she told me as we reached the car. “He sent me to find you.”
“Hurt in what way?”
She turned to face me. She seemed to be annoyed at me, not just concerned about what had happened to Andy.
“He’s been shot,” she told me bluntly.
“Shot?” I gasped, not altogether surprised, in view of what had just happened to me.
“I had a feeling that something like this was going to happen,” she muttered.
“Karen. Something like what?”
“You’d better ask Andy,” she snapped at me. “He’s at the caravan.”
“Has he seen a doctor?”
“Of course he’s seen a doctor,” she said irritably.
I couldn’t be blamed for what had happened to Andy