ONE BEATS THE BUSH: A gripping action thriller by Riall Nolan

Author:Riall Nolan [Nolan, Riall]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: THE BOOK FOLKS bestselling crime fiction publisher
Published: 2023-06-10T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

We stood and watched the Cessna dwindle to a black speck in the vast blue sky, its drone growing faint as it drifted away across the ranges. The light was clear and crystal sharp, and the air was sweet and fresh. You could almost believe the world was young.

The tall man coming toward us across the grass wasn’t young, though. Under a Harry Truman hat, his long face was deeply tanned, crow’s-feet and wrinkles radiating out from his watery brown eyes. With his long pendulous earlobes, he resembled an old hound dog. He wore khaki trousers, a Sears work shirt, and ankle-length boots. Then I noticed his arms. They were knotted with muscle, the veins prominent, and there was dirt under his fingernails.

He stopped a few feet away and inspected us, his eyes darting quickly from side to side. I’d seen that kind of glance before, I realized. Professional bodyguards scanned their surroundings in just the same way, eyes alert, never stopping.

He took off his hat, took a big step forward, and thrust out a wide leathery hand. I shook it. It was as tough as a piece of old hide, and underneath the skin his muscles were lean and hard. “Praise the Lord,” he said.

I thought about that for a second. “Likewise,” I replied.

He opened his mouth wide in a delighted guffaw, revealing large store-bought teeth. “Well, now,” he said. “I’m Pastor Fairley.” He winked. “Not a great name, not a bad name. Just a ‘fairly’ good ’un.”

He grinned again. “Not tourists, though, are you? Folks come up here, they come for a reason. Whatever it is, I’m always glad to have company. Come up on the porch and have some lemonade and we’ll talk.”

* * *

Pastor Fairley listened quietly while Sam and I explained why we’d come. When we were through, he nodded. “You were lucky to get in here, Mr. Donovan. The weather’s usually not so obliging.” He pointed down the hill to a low building at the edge of the airstrip. “I got my own plane awhile back, but I can’t fly the darned thing half the time on account of the clouds.”

I saw an old Beechcraft parked inside a hangar made of native materials. Beside it stood several drums of fuel. “I wouldn’t have thought you needed a plane, Pastor,” I said.

Fairley grinned. “I do the Lord’s work here, Mr. Donovan, and when he calls, I go. He who travels alone travels fastest, I’ve found.” He set his glass of lemonade down and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Now, about this man Dunham,” he said. “Can’t tell you folks much, I’m afraid. I only saw him a time or two. He put in here once to make a small repair. Another time, I saw him drunk in Mount Hagen. It doesn’t much surprise me that he might have got mixed up in something.” He turned his wet eyes on me. “What exactly are you lookin’ for up there, Mr. Donovan? Don’t seem to me like there’d be much left.

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