Arrow of Truth

CHAPTER 1                                                       8^th August  2007.

The man switched off the engine and the lights of his moped and let it drift along in darkness on the slight downward slope towards the small clearing that led off the country road. Hoping that there would be sufficient momentum to reach his objective he bent low over the handlebars to reduce wind resistance to a minimum and watched carefully in the darkness as he came towards the point where he had planned to pull off the road. Gradually he came closer until finally he was able to swing the bike to the left and crunch across the flat grass verge and up to the bushes.

Dismounting he pushed through a small gap in the shrubbery and leant the bike against a tree that was part of the tree and shrub verge. Taking off his helmet he tucked it underneath the bike, unstrapped the two heavy cans from the rack behind his seat and fitted a large padlock and thick chain around the front wheel. Then taking a black plastic sheet from the pannier on the side of the bike he gently tucked it all round the machine before standing back to admire his concealment handiwork. Almost satisfied he picked up some handfuls of leaves and sprinkled them over the plastic but most slid off leaving only a few on the top. He walked away for about five yards and then turned back. The bike was to all intents and purposes invisible and as it was highly unlikely that anyone would come through this area tonight, he was certain that it would remain completely hidden.

Pulling on a black balaclava and zipping up his black jacket he picked up the two cans, then after a final check round, pushed further into the bushes away from the road. Soon he was free of the clinging branches and twigs and as his night vision improved, helped by the small amount of moonlight that shone from tonight’s quarter moon but which from time to time was obscured by clouds scudding across the night sky, he could see his way forward. Stretching ahead of him was a wide expanse of grass parkland in which scattered large trees protruded majestically.

He stood quite still watching and when he was certain that nothing or no-one else was about he ran quickly to the trunk of the nearest tree. It was about fifty yards away and just beyond it stretched a three rail wooden fence that he knew ran all round this park area enabling horses to be turned out and allowed to graze without fear of them escaping. When he reached the fence he again stood absolutely still and looked carefully in all directions, then pleased that he was still alone and undetected he climbed through the wooden rails picked up his heavy cans again and made the run to the next tree and then the next until he was finally about twenty yards from the buildings which were the object of his mission.

This time he waited for at least five minutes until he stopped puffing from the struggle of running with the heavy cans. Then after another careful check around he crouched and ran the final distance to the brick walled side of the building that loomed in front of him.

The distinctive smell of horses pervaded the air which was unsurprising as he was against the stable block of Wood Hollow Hall. Working along the wall and keeping as close as he could to the bricks he soon reached the end and after carefully peering around the corner he slipped along the next wall until he reached a small archway and gate.

It was unlocked but taking a small can of oil from his pocket he squirted some of the contents onto the top and bottom hinges making sure that it ran down the inside of the upright pinions. He also dripped some onto the latch so that when he gently lifted it and then pushed the gate forward there were no squeaks and it moved smoothly and silently to an open position. He waited again listening intently but there were no sounds of voices, no barking of dogs and only the occasional snort or woofling sound from a horse.

His heart was thumping and he was breathing heavily again as he put down the heavy cans before pressing on right into the stable yard area, keeping close to the wall inside the complex. He stopped again and checked his bearings as it was a couple of months since he’d turned up on a Sunday morning when he knew that the owner and his wife were away on holiday.

He’d spoken to a woman working in the stables asking if there were any vacancies for jobs. There weren’t but that hadn’t bothered him as he hadn’t wanted a job, just the chance to look around and get the layout of the buildings which were in the shape of a square.

On one side there was a large barn filled with hay and straw. The second side consisted of stables as did the third. The fourth and final side had a big archway in the middle through which about fifty yards away could be seen the main house. Either side of the arch which in days gone by the carriages would have used to enter and leave were some rooms. To the left was a tack room holding saddles, bridles, and all the paraphernalia that was an integral part of owning and riding horses, and next to it was a larger room which was full of galvanised bins holding oats, bran, mixed feed, horse nuts and many other different feed items. To the other side of the arch was a rest room for the stable staff to use during the day and next to it a special large stable that was used for mares that were about to foal. Closed circuit cameras linked this particular stable to a screen in the rest room so that when a mare was due to foal a rota of people could keep watch from that room to ensure that all was well without disturbing the expectant equine mum.