The sea itself was not yet within his sight; wind in the tall tress mimicked the tireless beating of the distant waves against the shore. It was an icy, wet wind that stung his bowed forehead and sent almost frozen water droplets in spatters on his shoulders. Even if its grey, seething mass could be seen beyond the steep rise of a hill, nature’s overture drowned its aural presence. It was only as he turned west, out of the wind for a moment, that he caught a taste of salt on his lips. He was getting close.
The noise of the water striking his jacket was, he imagined, enough to render any footsteps behind him imperceptible. His imagination was jolted into reality as a hand laid itself firmly on his shoulder. He started, and turned suddenly. It had been expected, but the jolt was involuntary. Anxiety and relief flowed through his body simultaneously, as if the sudden intake of breath and increased heart rate made him feel braver. Instinct, he told himself as he turned, was preparing for two options; fight or flight.
Do you have it?
Carter nodded, lifting his hand to his chest indicating the breast pocket. The other man said nothing. Carter reached for the package.
Not here. The house at the top of the hill, in the courtyard. We’ll go separately.
Carter shuddered. He couldn’t tell whether at the prospect of prolonging the task or against the cold now that he was no longer walking. He turned slowly, shrugging and bowing as he was once again battered by icy rain, and began ascending the hill.
