5. 4 - The Squonk Hunters POV
I left the hall an hour later and headed back to the black car. Flopping down in the seat I thought about the task I’d been given. Their Squonk had died. I’m not quite sure why as I’d thought he had years left in him. Maybe the Lord had used the tears too liberally or maybe they’d let it have access to the internet. All those tales of sorrow were enough to make a grown man cry, never mind a Squonk. A replacement Squonk was needed as soon as possible and the fee involved would keep me in the style I was accustomed for a few years, such was the price I could charge.
I’d need a van for my plan. The car dropped me off at the van company where I selected an ordinary looking model. I contemplated going for one of the better ones, but the ordinary the better. I needed to blend in with the surrounding, not stand out. I gave them my requirements. They raised their eyebrows at the security I asked for in the cargo area but money talks and they said it would be ready the next day.
That night I sat in the hotel and looked up the village I was to visit. InverGarith was on the far north coast. According to Maps it would take eight hours solid driving to reach the small village. It was too small to even have street view. I sighed and tapped my fingers. Maybe I should have stolen one of the street view cars and used that. Too risky though, those things stand out a mile. I looked for a hotel. Usually I use a chain but they were nowhere near. I’d have to use something small. In the next village, about six miles away was a small bed and breakfast. I’d have to chance the fact that no one would notice me. Booking in under an assumed name and saying I was going walking was no problem.
After a good night’s sleep I picked up the van and headed north.