Page 57 of Corridors of the Night (William Monk 20)

Scuff felt a heavy hand on his shoulder and jumped.

‘Yer shouldn’t oughter use words like that,’ Worm said sententiously, but looking beyond Scuff at Squeaky standing behind him.

‘And you shouldn’t ought to be here,’ Squeaky said sternly. ‘I told you that before.’

Worm said nothing.

Scuff turned round and saw Monk and Hooper approaching them, Monk’s face dark with anger as he saw Worm.

Worm looked frightened, but he didn’t move.

It was Squeaky who spoke.

‘Got a stowaway,’ he said casually. ‘Wants to help. We’ll make the little beggar work for it. One thing about him is that no one will take any notice of him.’ He looked steadily at Monk, barely even blinking.

‘Did you know he was there??

?? Monk demanded.

‘No,’ Squeaky replied.

From the expression on his face Monk had no idea whether to believe him or not.

Scuff did not, but he said nothing.

Monk looked at Worm. ‘You’d better do exactly . . . exactly what you’re told. We’re going after men who will kill children. Do you understand?’

Worm nodded.

‘I suppose you’re hungry?’ Monk added.

Again Worm nodded.

With a sigh Monk broke his thick slice of bread in half and offered one piece to Worm.

Watching Monk’s face all the time, Worm reached out and took it. He ate it in thirty seconds.

They travelled steadily, according to the directions Monk had wrung out of Magnus Rand. The doctor had been reluctant, but by then deeply afraid that his brother would be disgraced, and if any of the children died, even hanged.

By late morning they were in the right general area. After a few errors and a couple of enquiries, they found an unnamed outlying farm close to Redditch. It answered Rand’s description almost exactly.

‘Looks right,’ Hooper said, staring at it from the road. It was an old farmhouse, a hundred and fifty yards away along a dirt track. The thatch on the roof was in need of repair, but it was surrounded by fertile land. There were several fields close by. Looking to be within its boundaries was an orchard with thirty or more apple and pear trees, and a group of outhouses huddled nearby, seemingly well maintained. A kitchen garden, even seen from a distance, looked neat and weeded, as if receiving constant attention.

‘If this is it,’ Monk said guardedly, ‘then Rand has someone here all the time. Weeds grow pretty fast in good earth like this.’

‘Gardener?’ Hooper suggested, his eyes searching all of the land he could see.

‘Maybe. Could be more staff than that.’ Monk followed Hooper’s gaze. There were a score of places where a man could be unseen from the road.

Squeaky said nothing.

‘I’ll go and look,’ Scuff offered, his mouth was so dry he stumbled over the words.

‘Send Worm,’ Squeaky interrupted. ‘They’ll take no notice of ’im.’ Without waiting for Monk’s approval, he turned to Worm, who was standing a few feet away. ‘You go just as far as that bend – see?’ He pointed to the cart track. ‘Look at what you can see from there, then come back and tell us. Right?’

‘Yeah. Right,’ Worm agreed, and started off at a brisk walk.

Monk made a lunge to grab him back, but Worm eluded him as easily as an eel in the river, and scampered off towards the bend in the track. Monk swung back to face Squeaky, and the argument died on his lips. They had no time to waste on reconnaissance, and they all knew it.