Treasure Sleuth by Amy Shaw Page A

can't be seen from as close as a few feet away. Good but not as good as night vision. Mark, he had the edge. He had the better vision. And they didn't know he was here. Yet.
    The men walked down the track in silence, towards the connecting track. And into the path of the waiting security guard.
    Keep going you assholes.
    They passed by Mark's hiding spot and rounded the corner and out of Mark's sight. He waited for the inevitable shouting from the security guard as he gave chase.
    Ha, let's see how fast you all run back to your trucks now. But there was no running. No chase. Mark closed his eyes and concentrated on the muffled voices. Difficult to make out, but there was no shock surprise. No sudden movements. They were expecting the guard to be there. Mark waited until he was sure they had moved on before he began to move himself. Sinking his legs further into the bushy hedge, he gradually brought his body upright enough to reach out to one of the tree branches and use it for support. Doing chin-ups in the gym must have been designed for situations like this. Mark pulled himself out of the hedge in one smooth easy action, a half empty backpack offering no resistance compared to the weights he was used to pulling up with a chain wrapped around his waist. Using the tree to lower himself to the ground, he crept towards the track connection.
    They were gone. Mark knew he didn't have the time luxury of aborting the plan, but he also felt uneasy about the gang's plan.
    What were they up to? Surely they didn't know about the gold? Was it the church itself? The lead. That was it. Were they going to steal the lead from the church roof?
    It's a common occurrence especially for churches in the middle of the country. And that would definitely ruin things tonight and possibly for the future. There was no way Mark wanted to end up taking the heat for burglary of lead from a church roof.
    He turned back out of the small track and made his way back up towards the barn area where the trucks were parked. He needed to take a closer look. He cautiously approached the open gates and peered into the barn courtyard. A Mitsubishi off-roader sat beside a Ford pick-up truck, both poised for a fast getaway. Mark stood in the opening, covered in complete darkness and watched in bright green night vision for any signs of movement. The place was empty of life. He walked around the vehicles taking in as many details as he could, making a mental note of the license plates.
    He considered torching the trucks. The flames could be seen from the church and it would stop them from stealing anything. They'd no doubt rush back to the trucks and clear the path for Mark to get his stash. It would also cause unwanted attention for them and prevent them from escaping, leaving them no choice but to leg it on foot.
    Mark reached into his pocket and wrapped his fingers around his lighter. As he did, he looked through the windows of the truck and saw how close the barn was. There was a good chance a high flame could reach the edge of the wooden structure and it wouldn't take much for the barn to burn down too. He let go of the lighter reaching instead for his knife. Opening it out and clicking into place he plunged it into the small tire of the trailer. It popped with a bang and then hissed violently for a few seconds before sinking flat into the muddy ground. Mark then walked round to the off-roader and bent down at the side and put his arm into the wheel arch under the filler cap. His fingers clawing their way through clumpy dried mud until he felt the tube pipe high up in the arch. Guiding the knife up, he gently pressed it against the rubber hose before jabbing his arm in a short, sharp, stabbing motion. The metal pierced the rubber, cutting a good slit an inch or so long. As he removed the blade fuel spilled out over his hand and the chunky rear tire.
    "There. Not gonna be such a fast getaway after all is it boys?" Mark whispered to himself with satisfaction.
    He