Cut to the Chase by Ray Scott

Author:Ray Scott [Scott, Ray]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction - Thriller
ISBN: 9781742984056
Publisher: Sid Harta Publishers
Published: 2014-02-20T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

Wallace awoke with a start, he could hear footsteps overhead. He shot up out of the bunk in a wild panic and struck his head on the beam overhead. He cried out with the pain, which he hastily cut short, but there was an answering hail from above.

‘Am yo’ theer?’

It was a strange accent Wallace could not place, but whatever it was it was English and not foreign. Wallace had become aware by this time of the variation of accents within England, Wales and Scotland; especially the first named, and could appreciate the impossibility of a Cornishman trying to understand anything anyone from Northumberland or Yorkshire might utter.

He pulled on his trousers and shirt and made for the companion way leading to the wheel house, and finally stuck his head out at deck level. That it could be a trick by the three sets of hounds chasing him across England did occur to him but his head had reached the mild sunshine before it really registered. A man wearing jeans, a blue shirt and with a cloth cap on his head was standing square on the deck looking down at him and he gave a friendly grin which showed one or two gaps in his teeth.

‘Ow do!’ he said.

‘G’day…Um…Good Morning!’ Wallace replied, hastily checking the damning ‘G’day’ that could have stamped his origins straight away.

‘’Ave yer got any shooger, maite?’

Wallace deliberated on this for a few seconds; then got the message.

‘Yes…I think so. Wait a minute, I’ll have a look.’

There was a heavy commercial barge moored astern of his craft that was painted a sober black. It had the words “Thomas Jeavons & Sons” in red lettering along the front of the cabin and he could just see the beginnings of a similar notation along the side of the craft. He remembered McKay saying that there was still much commercial traffic along the waterways, especially in the Midlands. Manchester and London areas, and recalled that he had passed several such craft on the way up from London.

Wallace liked what he saw. Apart from his working clothing, the other man had a craggy face, much lined, with pale blue eyes from which shone contentment and absolute honesty. He had a tattoo on his left arm which was a kind of badge that initially Wallace failed to recognise, it looked something like the head of a wolf. He was about 5’9” tall and a bit overweight, particularly in the lower midriff area which indicated that he liked his beer. Wallace came back up the few steps he had taken to go below and beckoned to him.

‘Come on below,’ he said impulsively. ‘I’m just about to have a cup.’

‘Ta maite, will do!’

He followed Wallace below, and sat down on the bench while Wallace filled the kettle and placed it on the stove.

‘Going far?’ Wallace enquired as the other man sat down opposite him.

‘Doodlay!’ he said, shaking his head. ‘Joost a few mile down the cut.’

Wallace digested this in silence, thinking back to

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