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.'As Jon looked out across the silent land he knew it wasn't the wind that was causing the hairs on the back of his neck to rise.Wild and bleak as it was, the place had a strange kind of allure, there was no denying it.With a shudder he turned his head to stare down at the relatively flat land stretched out far below.The density of buildings slowly increased until a cluster of tower blocks, chimneys and cranes were visible in the distance.Manchester.Beyond it the air grew grey and hazy.'Rain moving in off the Irish Sea,' Clegg announced.'It'll be here in another half hour or so.'Jon stared at the floating veil, thinking about the water saturating the ground beneath them and how it drained into the little streams that, over thousands of years, had carved narrow ravines in the slopes.Looking again at the plains below he remembered a geography lesson from school.Something about the number of rivers that ran through Manchester on their way to the coast.Unsure why he thought it important, he leaned forwards.'All these streams that run off the moors.''Cloughs is what they're called.''Cloughs then.They eventually turn into rivers, right?''Of course.The Etherow, Goyt, Tame and Medlock.They all rise on these moors.Apart from the Medlock, they converge at Stockport to form the Mersey.That's why the area below is known as the Mersey basin.''Where does the Medlock lead?''Right into the centre of Manchester.I think it eventually merges with the Manchester Ship Canal at Salford.'A collection of black shreds suddenly scored the mottled greyness above them.Jon looked up at the crows as they traversed the sky in an unnaturally straight line.Instead of trying to fight the current of air, the birds were passively allowing themselves to be swept along, heads angled at the men below.Then, with an invisible adjustment of their wings, they plummeted as one, disappearing beyond the contours of the moor.Jon wondered if they were the same birds found feeding on Mrs Sutton's corpse.Pushing the thought away, he tried to focus on what Adam had just told him.The information seemed significant somehow, but the constant buffeting of the wind was giving him a headache and when Clegg turned the handlebars to begin the bumpy ride back to Far Gethen farm, he didn't complain.ThirteenThey slowed to a stop in front of the barn and Jon climbed off the quad bike.While Adam drove it slowly back inside, he examined his feet.Smeared black earth clung to the sides of his shoes and fragments of gorse were caught in the soaking laces.'OK,' said Adam, hanging the keys back on the hook.'You'd like a word with Ken?'They walked across the courtyard to the front door of the farmhouse.Adam knocked loudly on the heavy wooden door then opened it.The kitchen was pretty much as Jon had expected – flagstone floor, chunky wooden table and an ancient Aga with tea towels and oven gloves draped over its front rail.A Welsh dresser stood opposite Jon and he noticed the pair of walkie-talkies standing upright in a base unit, battery lights glowing as they recharged.The shelves above were lined with plates painted with images of foxhunts.Hounds raced across landscapes, horses vaulted hedges and, in one, a stag was being brought down in the shallows of a river, eyes wide with terror.'In here.' Ken's voice came from further inside the house.Seeing Adam removing his boots, Jon crouched down and took his shoes off, realising his socks were totally saturated.They crossed the kitchen and Jon glanced back to see a trail of glistening footprints behind him.The doorway led straight into a large living room, where an enormous fire crackled away in the hearth.Apart from the weak light filtering through the windows, the flames provided the room's only illumination.Sutton was sitting in an armchair before the fire, dark lines etched into his weary face.A mug was balanced in one hand, curls of steam rising above the rim.'There's tea in the pot.''Jon? You want a cup?' asked Adam.'Please.Chuck in a couple of sugars too,' Jon replied, glancing up at the animal heads lining the walls.There must have been a dozen foxes, a few badgers and several varieties of deer, some with antlers, others without.Adam went back into the kitchen and Jon turned to Sutton who was staring impassively at the fire.Wondering where the younger man with the rifle was, Jon pointed to the armchair opposite.'Mind if I sit down?'Ken grunted and Jon took it as a yes.Taking out his notebook and pen, he eased himself into the seat, trying to keep his sodden socks from view by tucking his feet under the chair [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.'As Jon looked out across the silent land he knew it wasn't the wind that was causing the hairs on the back of his neck to rise.Wild and bleak as it was, the place had a strange kind of allure, there was no denying it.With a shudder he turned his head to stare down at the relatively flat land stretched out far below.The density of buildings slowly increased until a cluster of tower blocks, chimneys and cranes were visible in the distance.Manchester.Beyond it the air grew grey and hazy.'Rain moving in off the Irish Sea,' Clegg announced.'It'll be here in another half hour or so.'Jon stared at the floating veil, thinking about the water saturating the ground beneath them and how it drained into the little streams that, over thousands of years, had carved narrow ravines in the slopes.Looking again at the plains below he remembered a geography lesson from school.Something about the number of rivers that ran through Manchester on their way to the coast.Unsure why he thought it important, he leaned forwards.'All these streams that run off the moors.''Cloughs is what they're called.''Cloughs then.They eventually turn into rivers, right?''Of course.The Etherow, Goyt, Tame and Medlock.They all rise on these moors.Apart from the Medlock, they converge at Stockport to form the Mersey.That's why the area below is known as the Mersey basin.''Where does the Medlock lead?''Right into the centre of Manchester.I think it eventually merges with the Manchester Ship Canal at Salford.'A collection of black shreds suddenly scored the mottled greyness above them.Jon looked up at the crows as they traversed the sky in an unnaturally straight line.Instead of trying to fight the current of air, the birds were passively allowing themselves to be swept along, heads angled at the men below.Then, with an invisible adjustment of their wings, they plummeted as one, disappearing beyond the contours of the moor.Jon wondered if they were the same birds found feeding on Mrs Sutton's corpse.Pushing the thought away, he tried to focus on what Adam had just told him.The information seemed significant somehow, but the constant buffeting of the wind was giving him a headache and when Clegg turned the handlebars to begin the bumpy ride back to Far Gethen farm, he didn't complain.ThirteenThey slowed to a stop in front of the barn and Jon climbed off the quad bike.While Adam drove it slowly back inside, he examined his feet.Smeared black earth clung to the sides of his shoes and fragments of gorse were caught in the soaking laces.'OK,' said Adam, hanging the keys back on the hook.'You'd like a word with Ken?'They walked across the courtyard to the front door of the farmhouse.Adam knocked loudly on the heavy wooden door then opened it.The kitchen was pretty much as Jon had expected – flagstone floor, chunky wooden table and an ancient Aga with tea towels and oven gloves draped over its front rail.A Welsh dresser stood opposite Jon and he noticed the pair of walkie-talkies standing upright in a base unit, battery lights glowing as they recharged.The shelves above were lined with plates painted with images of foxhunts.Hounds raced across landscapes, horses vaulted hedges and, in one, a stag was being brought down in the shallows of a river, eyes wide with terror.'In here.' Ken's voice came from further inside the house.Seeing Adam removing his boots, Jon crouched down and took his shoes off, realising his socks were totally saturated.They crossed the kitchen and Jon glanced back to see a trail of glistening footprints behind him.The doorway led straight into a large living room, where an enormous fire crackled away in the hearth.Apart from the weak light filtering through the windows, the flames provided the room's only illumination.Sutton was sitting in an armchair before the fire, dark lines etched into his weary face.A mug was balanced in one hand, curls of steam rising above the rim.'There's tea in the pot.''Jon? You want a cup?' asked Adam.'Please.Chuck in a couple of sugars too,' Jon replied, glancing up at the animal heads lining the walls.There must have been a dozen foxes, a few badgers and several varieties of deer, some with antlers, others without.Adam went back into the kitchen and Jon turned to Sutton who was staring impassively at the fire.Wondering where the younger man with the rifle was, Jon pointed to the armchair opposite.'Mind if I sit down?'Ken grunted and Jon took it as a yes.Taking out his notebook and pen, he eased himself into the seat, trying to keep his sodden socks from view by tucking his feet under the chair [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]