EIGHTEEN
He sat back in the driver’s seat of the van, his breathing rapid and excited, his heart rate accelerated.
He had come so far!
And was now so near.
So near he could almost taste his excitement.
Months of careful planning. Carefully putting together all the things he needed. Buying his needs second-hand or taken from skips.
He travelled outside the immediate environs of West Garside. Nobody local would ever connect him to any of the items bought. Or stolen.
He was the master of disguise. He was the professor of forensics. How stupid of the government, of the authorities, to allow the publication of so many books on forensics, telling him exactly how to avoid leaving trace material behind.
All those articles so readily available on-line. No wonder so many crimes go unsolved w
