The Joe Johnson Thriller Series: Books 1-3 (The Joe Johnson Thriller Series Boxset 1) by Andrew Turpin

Author:Andrew Turpin [Turpin, Andrew]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781788750066
Publisher: The Write Direction Publishing
Published: 2018-02-13T23:00:00+00:00

Thursday, July 19, 2012

Moseć

The path led through bushes and past a couple of trees. The footprints continued, but there was still no sign of anyone. Working on the assumption that if he planted his feet where the fresh prints were he should be safe, Edwards continued toward a ridge ahead of him.

Suddenly, Edwards heard the very faint sound of voices drifting on the breeze that blew toward him.

He crouched next to a bush, then edged forward until he reached the top of the ridge. There he cautiously lifted his head until he could see what lay beyond.

Roughly eighty yards ahead, at the bottom of a natural bowl in the terrain, stood an old stone barn.

At the right-hand side of the barn, one of the iron roofing sheets was curved up at the bottom, supported by lengths of wood.

Outside the barn door stood the man and the woman he had seen with Johnson when they emerged from the house in Split. A large dog, probably an Alsatian or a German shepherd, lay next to them.

It was obvious to Edwards what was going on. He remained there for some time, just watching. The man, woman, and the dog outside the barn hardly moved.

Then at the top of the barn wall, from underneath the iron roofing sheet, a man appeared. It was Johnson. He straddled the top of the wall, swung his legs over, then lowered himself to the ground, using a drainpipe as support.

Then the Jeep driver also appeared from under the roofing sheet, clutching a small box. He passed it down to Johnson on the ground. Then he reached behind him, pulled up a length of rope that he threw to the ground, then lowered himself down the drainpipe.

Surely, Edwards assumed, the box contained the set of documents that Watson wanted.

He scrutinized the ground in front of him. A variety of bushes, olive trees, and other undergrowth dotted the ground between him and the barn, but he could see a clear, narrow trail of footprints in the dust.

Edwards calculated that provided he stuck closely to the prints, he could continue at a crouched walk through the bushes and probably get quite close to the barn without being seen.

There was a sizable clump of scrub halfway to the barn. From there, a distance of probably thirty-five or forty yards, Edwards was very confident that given the cover and the element of surprise, he could accurately take out all four of them with his semiautomatic.

The unknown factor was the dog. Would it smell or hear him? The wind was blowing toward him, which reduced the likelihood, but Edwards was uncertain.

He half stood and started to edge slowly forward until he drew near to the clump of bushes, ten yards ahead of the ridge.

Just then, he heard the dog bark. The sound made him instinctively look up. He saw the dog was on its feet, facing his direction, its tail in a rigid curl over its back. It let rip with a series of loud, aggressive, deep-pitched barks, interspersed with snarls and growls.

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