Chapter Twenty-One
His car was rather a surprise for a young man, who I presumed worked in a fairly junior position in property retail. He drove a sleek, black, old but serviceable Porsche 928 turbo which came as a surprise. A few minutes of weaving through traffic led to a fast A road and from there to a dingy pair of old, cast iron gates, chained together with a double wrapping of rusted metal and an aged padlocked. Whilst he got out to open the entry, I studied the little that I could see, which didn’t seem very appealing.
The left gate was only just mounted to its pillar, it was held in place by one hook only. Paul finally managed to drag them apart enough to allow his car to pass. The drive meandered around a small copse of trees and there it was! The building looked not unlike the
