The Guardian by Christopher Kenworthy

Author:Christopher Kenworthy [Kenworthy, Christopher]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Endeavour Media
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Amy was ominously still when Carter climbed back into the Fourtrek and stowed his heavy briefcase under the seat. His loose jacket covered the big gun, but he knew that he smelled of gun oil, and to an experienced shot, the smell was unmistakable.

“Where now?” he said as he waited for the glow plug to light up. Amy, exasperated by being excluded, answered through clenched teeth.

“South,” she said. “South to Montargis and Gien. We cross the Loire there and go on to Romorantin. I have chosen a route which stays away from the main centres. If they are looking for us, we will simply disappear.”

Mentally, Carver had already chosen a similar route. Losing himself in France was not hard. The country has the same size population as Britain, and five times the land mass. The combination makes for a good country in which to disappear. With a huge network of tiny roads with light traffic they could even avoid main routes.

Besides, it was only Wednesday. By hurrying they could easily be in Carcassonne by late Thursday, but as the girl had said, they would stick out like a sore thumb in a small town. From what Amy said, Bram was very small indeed. If Dark was regarded as being a local seigneur, newcomers would be automatically reported to him. The owner of the local castle probably provided most of the trade in the place.

The time to arrive was late on Friday before the sale, when small parties of people trying hard not to be recognised would be travelling around the district anyway and the dealers would not have time to patrol the area. Then their security problem would be penetrating the castle. Carver was not aware what the castle looked like, but he was pretty certain that he would find a way in, one way or another.

The slave dealers were, after all, expecting visitors and while their customers would be known to them, they could not possibly be familiar with the faces of all their retainers and minders.

A gasp from Amy and a loud tooting from behind recalled his thoughts to the present, and he realised that he had been in danger of falling asleep. He waited until a small lay by gave him a chance to pull off the road, and stopped.

“If I go on driving like this, we’ll never get to Carcassonne,” he told Amy. “I’ll get in the back and sleep. You drive.”

He folded the rear seats down and padded the load space with luggage and a couple of rugs. When he was sure he could curl into the spaces he had left, he put his head down and was instantly unconscious.

Amy watched him with exasperation, gingerly put the car into gear and pulled off as smoothly as she could.

At least, she thought, as the car ran on down the road, she could pick her own restaurant for dinner that night. There was always the Cloud of Milk in Gueret. Now, that was a most unusual to eat.

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