A Bitter Field Read Online Free PDF

there was any reason Peter could think of as to why they might be followed.
    ‘None whatever, old chap, unless you have been careless.’
    ‘I try not to be, as you know, but then if you found me …’
    ‘The question is being posed because?’
    ‘We picked up a car just as we left the centre of the city. You must have noticed that Hispano-Suiza roadster that was parked by the roadside?’
    ‘Not terribly interested in cars, old boy.’
    ‘Well it pulled out immediately we had passed. Nothing unusual in that, except that it is still with us and the hood is up, which is hardly fitting when it’s so hot. Added to that, it has kept to the same speed as us ever since.’
    ‘Why is that strange?’
    ‘It’s a J12, capable of well over a ton.’
    ‘Not on this road, surely?’ Peter said.
    ‘Be great fun on this road,’ Cal insisted.
    The passing lorry cut out the sunlight, easing past with about an inch to spare. With the road clear again Cal moved off, his eyes rarely off what was happening behind, the lorry being forced onto the side embankment and skirting the ditch to get past the wider Hispano-Suiza.
    ‘You think it’s the law?’ Peter asked.
    ‘Not in that kind of car, it costs a bloody fortune. Bugger stopped when we did, as if he didn’t want to get too close, and is now moving again, but not getting any nearer. If I was driving that kind of motor I would have been right up the arse of this little thing, flashing my bloody great headlights and leaning on the horn to get by.’
    ‘You sound just like Toad of Toad Hall, old chap,’ Peter responded calmly, before adding, ‘I take it that it might be worth a few precautions.’
    ‘Look under your seat, Peter; attached to the bottom there’s an oilskin pouch with a Mauser inside.’
    ‘I’m not sure that’s very wise,’ Peter replied. ‘If I am fingered here I will be in the soup regardless, without firing off a weapon on foreign turf.’
    ‘Just do as I ask, Peter, there’s a good chap. You came along because you elected to do so, not because you were invited.’
    ‘Fair enough,’ came the reply, after a moment’s consideration.
    The gun was fetched out and one of the two detached full magazines inspected, before being rammed home and the weapon cocked, though with the safety on. Cal kept to the same pace as before, there being no point in increasing speed; this Simca could not outrun any kind of roadster, never mind one of the best on the market.
    The careful speed was maintained until they passed, on their right, a ramshackle manoir so run-down it was shorn of windows, fronted by a clutter of delapidated farm buildings with a couple of canvas- topped lorries parked outside, which seemed to be a workshop for farm equipment, judging by the amount of rusting metal and tractor attachments scattered about.
    Cal sounded a tattoo on his horn, before swinging on to a narrow bridge with a low stone parapet that led to the north side of the canal, followed by a glance upstream to check the barge containing his cargo was still moored where he had last seen it. Now hidden by the line of trees that enclosed the canal on both sides he increased his speed, jamming his foot to the floor; if it gave him a pleasing sensation of haste, it was, he knew, useless by comparison to that of the car behind.
    The road ahead split again and he screeched round the right-hand bend, gunning through the gears to another junction and swinging left onto an equally narrow, long and straight road that led north away from the canal – not that he expected to fool anyone and get away.
    He had only one aim: to see if it was indeed a tail, or if he was being overcautious; that was answered within minutes when those big twin headlights abreast the low-slung black body appeared once more in the rear-view mirror. Cal immediately killed his speed, noting that the tail slowed as well. They were definitely being followed, but by whom?
    What he had said to Peter had to be true: it was