Twenty-Nine
Guthrie sat across from the entrance to the industrial estate that was the home of Ogilvy Outerwear. The light was beginning to fade as the sun disappeared behind a thick layer of grey cloud. The heat had long dissipated from the MG. Guthrie turned up his collar and sunk down in the seat.
The fact that he was in a forty-year-old sports car and about to follow someone was not lost on Guthrie. It was not going to be easy blending in to the traffic in a classic car. He hoped Ogilvy left late enough the fading evening light would make it more difficult to spot that a particularly uncommon car following him.
No such luck.
Ogilvy's Jaguar appeared at the junction and turned right, heading north, away from town. Guthrie sat up in the seat, turning the ignition key and firing up th
