Them or Us

obviously building up a decent and well-connected support structure, too. So the next question is, where’s he getting it all from? This all looks surprisingly well organized, and whoever he’s stealing from must have enough stuff in storage not to notice the occasional truckload disappearing. There’s only one person who’s likely to control enough around here to be in that position, and that’s Hinchcliffe. By the looks of things, though, these aren’t opportunistic raids. Everything I saw just now looked carefully planned, so that means Warner had help. He must have people on the inside. Maybe Neil Casey wasn’t killed? Perhaps he’d been working for Warner all along? Fuck me, this is getting complicated. I feel a strange sense of relief that I’ve actually found something to go back to Hinchcliffe with. It means I should be able to get out of here before long.
    The road outside is completely empty now. I leave the house the way I came, slipping back through the hole in the fence, then going down the side of the adjacent house and out onto the other street.
    “So where d’you think that bunch came from?” a voice asks suddenly from somewhere behind me. I spin around anxiously. I go to grab my knife but clumsily drop it. The owner of the voice switches on a flashlight and shines it at me. Shit. I try to rush him, but he steps out of the way, then angles the light directly into my face, blinding me. “Don’t panic,” he says, “I don’t want any trouble.”
    The man shines the light back at himself for a second, and it reflects off his thick glasses. I recognize him immediately. It’s the guy from the working party this afternoon, the one with the bad hair who was watching me so closely in the house. Is he onto me? What am I supposed to do now, kill him? I pick up my knife just in case.
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    “The delivery,” he says. “I heard it, so you must have seen it. Same thing happens every few days around this time.”
    “I saw nothing,” I tell him.
    “So why are you here?”
    “I was just looking for somewhere to sleep,” I lie.
    “Bullshit. I’ve been watching you. You’ve walked past more than two dozen empty buildings.”
    “You’ve been watching me? Why?”
    “Because I want to talk to you. Look, can we go somewhere less public…?”
    “The middle of the street’s fine. Anyway, why would you need to talk to me? Are you some kind of stalker?”
    He ignores my jibe.
    “It’s Rufus, isn’t it?”
    “Yes,” I answer after a brief but noticeable delay.
    “So what do you think?”
    “About what?”
    “About what they’re doing here? About the truck you just saw? About the way Warner’s trying to get these people organized?”
    “Did he send you to find me?”
    “Not at all. I’m just trying to work out what’s happening here, same as you are. So I’ll ask you again, what do you think?”
    “I think I’m bloody tired after working all day and I really don’t care about Warner or any mysterious trucks,” I answer. “I’m grateful for the food, and now I just want to find somewhere I can crash for the night like I told you. I took a wrong turn, and that’s why I’m here. I’m really not interested in anything else.”
    “I don’t buy that.”
    “I don’t care.”
    It’s clear this guy is just some deluded little idiot. Maybe he gets a kick out of causing trouble—some kind of masochist looking for a beating, perhaps? Whoever he is and whatever he wants, I’m not getting involved. Things are complicated enough already. I try to sidestep him and head back toward the center of town, but he stands his ground and blocks my way through.
    “I’m sorry,” he says, “but I don’t get it. You’ve just seen a truck full of supplies being unloaded, and you’re telling me you don’t want to know where it came from?”
    “I’m not telling you anything.”
    “Why are you really here?”
    “What’s it to you?”
    “I know you’re lying to me, Rufus,” he says. “I can read you like a book. My name’s Peter Sutton, and I want answers, same as you.”

 
    12
    MY MIND’S RACING, AND I do all I can not to show it. Who is this person? I need to be damn careful here and keep up my act. If he’s working for Warner, then I could be in real trouble. Likewise, if he’s discovered I’m here spying for Hinchcliffe, there’s every chance I won’t get out of Southwold alive. I need to find out which it is.
    “So