The Hidden Target by Helen Macinnes

Author:Helen Macinnes
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9781781164426
Publisher: Titan Books
Published: 2014-01-16T22:45:00+00:00

17

They ate at five o’clock, still talking over their plans. By halfpast eight, well prepared, they were on their way. The hillside and its easier routes to Rancho San Carlos were becoming familiar. The half-moon was strong enough, the stars brilliant. Once their eyes became accustomed to the eerie shadows that played over the rough ground whenever a white cloud drifted across the sky, they found it a simple matter of putting one foot in front of the other. Renwick and Mac led the way. Sal, pockets bulging with equipment, a spool of wire dangling from his belt, followed their footsteps precisely.

As they came over the brow of the hill, they crouched low, but—provided they didn’t clatter or stumble—they could even speed up their approach to that morning’s vantage point. At the path to the fence, they halted; now Sal could see the layout of the place for himself. No one spoke. Dark-blue sweaters, the colour of night, were pulled over their dark shirts. Mac’s reddish fair hair, brightly silvered in moonlight, was covered by a navy-blue wool cap. Faces and hands were made less noticeable by a deep nut-brown tan out of a bottle.

There were lights behind the curtains of two downstairs windows near the doors on to the terrace. Three more lights, isolated, shone bleakly over the entrance to the armoury (some mess hall, Renwick thought with a smile at himself), the side of the barn door, the corner of the stable-dormitory. The fence was left unlit, attracting little attention, making the gate unnoticeable. Sal stared down at the compound, then nodded. He was ready.

Renwick waited. It was an innocent scene; a house half asleep, three buildings abandoned. But the dogs were there, a pair of dark shadows moving constantly and in unison, prowling slowly around the compound’s perimeter, alert, silent, their path undeviating.

Watching the rate of their patrol, Renwick calculated quickly. A near approach to the gate should be made when the dogs had reached the barn. From there, they’d pass the stable; then the main house; then the armoury and the beginning of the fence; then the sweep of the fence itself. When they reached the gate, that was the moment to face them. On this round he let them continue on their appointed way. Just making sure they followed their training to the last detail, he told himself grimly. As they passed the gate for the second time and headed towards the barn, he signalled and moved forward. Mac and Sal followed, equally cautious in their movements. They knelt down, stayed low, waited for the dogs’ long patrol around the compound to come their way again.

Sal was already prepared for work. Around his head he had slipped a broad elastic band with its attached shaded flashlight over his brow ready to be switched on. He had uncoiled a length of insulated wire from the spool at his belt and was now feeling the small, high-pressure spring claps at either end of the wire as if to make sure they were secure.

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