“Yes, it would be, so let’s park in the village, perhaps in the car park behind the pub so the Jag won’t be seen from the road. It will just look as though someone walked home rather than risk driving.”
“It’s a very recognisable car, let’s be honest, so that’s the best plan, as close to the pub wall as possible.”
“Woof, good decision, let’s do that then. We can even celebrate our successful mission afterwards in the pub.”
Tompkins turned left and pointed out the roof of the Stark residence which was visible over the fields and hedgerows. He slowed down so as not to draw too much attention to the car as they headed towards the village. Tompkins turned left and then left again, letting Filly out before parking as close to the pub wall as possible. He locked the Jaguar and placed two small, thin plasters over the gap between the driver-side doors and bodywork, as low to the ground as possible. This was Tompkins’s attempt to determine whether someone had opened the doors during his absence. The plasters were red and blended into the paint well.
“That’s spy novelish isn’t it?” asked Filly in an amused tone.
“I suppose it is,” replied Tompkins admiring his handiwork, “anyway we should go, every second we leave it, the more likely those blighters are to be awake and have their wits about them. Are you up for a quick jog to those trees?” He pointed across the road at the wood, which was about 300 yards from their intended destination.
“I am sure I can do that,” said Filly and checked the laces of her shoes were tied. “Let’s go, Tomcat.”
He gestured for her to lead the way and she did just that running across the road to the gate, which she climbed over with great ease, dispersing the brambles and weeds as she went. Tompkins followed and then caught up with her to guide Filly along the path to the woods, where he hoped they could recce the place without being seen.
Julian Worker Fiction Writing 