I signaled to the other two to stop, waved them to me.
‘We crawl the rest of the way,’ I said. ‘Barrett may have left a look-out and we don’t want to run into him. You keep in the rear,’ I went on to Mary. ‘Leave this to Mac and me.’
We set off again, moving slowly now, using every scrap of cover, making no noise. Mac suddenly pointed, and I followed the direction of his finger. I could just make out a man’s head, outlined against the horizon, as he knelt in the scrub, looking our way.
Mac put his mouth close to my ear. ‘I’ll take him’ he said. ‘I was a Ranger once. This is right up my alley.’
I nodded and watched him crawl in a circling movement towards the watcher.
Mary slid over the sand and lay by me. She too had seen the head against the horizon.
We waited. Nothing happened, and I began to wonder what Mac was playing at. The watcher suddenly half stood up, looking our way. He made a beautiful target against the sand and the moonlight. Then he gave a sharp cough and dropped face downwards in the sand. Mac waved and disappeared once more behind the sand ridge. I crawled, on, motioning Mary to keep in the rear.
‘He didn’t know anything about it,’ Mac whispered when I joined him. ‘I’m beginning to enjoy this.’ We crawled to the edge of the quarry and looked down. The blazing headlights of the two trucks lit up a scene of tremendous activity. Men were loading the wooden boxes on to the trucks, while others came staggering down the steep path from the tunnel, carrying more boxes. One of the trucks was already loaded and the other was half filled.
Standing in the entrance of the tunnel, waving his men on, and shouting at them to hurry was Barratt.
Mac’s hand lifted and the sight of the .38 grew steady on Barrett’s chest, but I grabbed his wrist.