Sam slowed his car down and coasted
past his house without stopping. There was something wrong.
He made a left and parked in the
gloom between streetlights. He cut the engine and sat looking at the steering
wheel, considering angles again. The air wasn’t cold as he got out. He scanned
the street quickly: no-one in sight. Unobtrusively, and keeping in against the
high hedge, he made his way to the corner, slipped his pocket binoculars out
and raised them to his face.
There was a navy blue Ford parked
opposite his house, two men in the front. The angle was wrong to see the house
itself from where he was. He didn’t bother trying. Two men; plain clothes: they
were definitely policemen. He dropped the binoculars back into his pocket.
Sam considered the efficiency of his
plan; the secrecy of his stashes. No foolish hiding place in his own house. It
was fortunate. He couldn’t get back in there now. He checked his wallet. Enough
there for now, but he was going to have to drive by one of his stashes in the
morning; pick up some emergency cash.
One more glance at the men watching.
They hadn’t seen him. He backed up and walked to his own car. He wasn’t
seriously worried but he was troubled. If the police were now after him then
the stakes had got a lot higher. He needed information and he needed it
immediately.
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