The Moon Tunnel

They have refused to publicize the finds – which point to the site at the old PoW camp being used as a chariot burial for an Anglo-Saxon prince or princess – to avoid alerting local opposition.

Don’t let them get away with it!

The Druidical Council has met and decided to call on all those who wish to protect the spirits of the dead to assemble at the site this Thursday – 28 October – when there will be a total eclipse of the moon.

A silent vigil will be held throughout the night and our representatives will attempt to persuade those working on the burial site to join us and abandon this act of vandalism.

Supporters should assembly at 10.00pm by The Cutter Inn. More details from speedwing@ hotmail.com

‘Shit!’ said Dryden, attempting to coax the office coffee machine into action with a sharp blow to its electrics. There was a buzzing sound and his cup filled.

He was annoyed with himself for sitting on the story of the chariot burial. As it had turned out the Express would be far more interested in the archaeologist’s murder than his latest find, but if he hadn’t held back Dryden could have got the story in the previous week’s paper. He wondered how the news had got out, and recalled that several of the diggers in The Frog Hall had worn New Age badges, but it was never a secret that was destined to be kept, something he should have realized at the time. The demonstration was unlikely to materialize as most of Speedwing’s escapades began and ended at the bar of The Cutter Inn. But he would have sent the press release to most news outlets in the region, so Dryden now had no choice but to slip the story of the chariot burial into his main piece on the murder.

Vee Hilgay’s eviction worried him more. He could offer to pay himself, but felt the gesture would be rejected and smacked of charity. And there would be more bills, and the responsibility of paying them. But if he could find the missing Dadd her troubles were over. He felt sure Serafino Amatista had died holding the painting, but he was no nearer finding out where it was today. Had Valgimigli died for it? Did the ?im price-tag explain his brutal murder?

Dryden text messaged The Crow’s resident photographer Mitch Mackintosh, giving him the time and the address for the planned eviction.

He checked further down his e-mails and saw Laura’s name immediately. Twice. Guilt swept over him, a familiar sensation which he had become suspiciously adept at ignoring. He’d planned to visit The Tower, but an evening in The Frog Hall had led him to California and Professor Valgimigli’s butchered corpse.

He opened the first she’d sent. It was brief, but with three attachments.

HI. SEE THESF. L X.

The first attachment was an online cutting from the Cambridge Evening News of June 1942. It was a story on wartime food shortages and plans to boost potato production in the Fens. Dryden read it three times but could see nothing of significance. He closed it down, guessing that Laura had accidentally downloaded the wrong cutting, a mistake she had made before in e-mails. He checked the clock, aware he was short of time, unable to suppress his impatience.

He nearly didn’t bother with the second attachment.

It was from the Cambridge Evening News again, a single-column story from the front page, 18 August 1943. The three-deck headline was redolent of pre-tabloid journalism.

HOUSE THIEVES STRIKE AGAIN LEAVING POLICE BAFFLED

Fourth country house falls victim to gang operating in our region

Detectives unable to stop spate of raids, appeal for public vigilance

By Our Own Staff

Burglars ransacked Southery Hall, north of Ely, on Saturday night and got away with a haul of silver plate, jewellery and cash, according to police at Cambridge.

The raid is the fourth in the area in eighteen months in which country houses have been the target and where police suspect the thieves had intimate knowledge of the interior layout of the estate and buildings.

A ladder was found beneath a window above the servants’ block which was regularly left open to air laundry. A gun dog was found poisoned on the lawns of the hall, the home of the Rt Hon. George Riding QC.

Southery Hall hosted the annual harvest festival ball on Saturday night and it is understood the thieves entered the estate shortly after the last guests left at 1.00am.

‘We are determined to apprehend these criminals who have preyed on houses where the normal security arrangements have been relaxed in the interests of boosting agricultural production for the war effort, and where large numbers of regular staff are now serving in His Majesty’s armed forces,’ said Detective Inspector Archibald Wigg.

‘However, the thieves are making an increasing number of errors which have furnished us with valuable evidence. An arrest is expected soon but may I take this opportunity to appeal directly to the public to come forward with any information which might assist us in our enquiries.’

DI Wigg pointed out that the thieves appeared to have little genuine knowledge of the value of art works – having on several occasions abandoned canvases of considerable value in favour of items more easily sold into the black market, such as silverware. The police have also noted that each of the burglaries was committed on a night when the moon was full.

Dryden read the rest of the article quickly and then opened the third attachment. It was a similar report – written just over a year later – on the raid at Osmington Hall. The luckless DI Wigg was again quoted, and had little more to say. The murder of the underbutler, George Wilfred Deakin, added a hysterical tone to the piece, in which the police promised to question hundreds of local people. It was noted that large numbers of former Italian PoWs had been interviewed, but released without charge.

He opened Laura’s second e-mail.

OS HALL THE LAST. DID THEY USE THE SUNNEL?

He knew the answer. If the booty from Osmington Hall had made its way into the tunnel, and that burglary was one in a series which went back to 1942, then the implications were clear. The tunnel had given the gardeners the perfect alibi for a perfect crime.