His confidence was almost absolute, and he recognised it as that dummy4
same inner serenity which he had known sometimes before examinations, when he was sure that he could translate preparation into action. It was attended by the same uncontrollable physical symptoms, too–the dry mouth, the tight chest and the fast pulse.
He signalled Roskill to stop as they approached the nearest mound, little more than 300 yards from the edge of the taxiing strip, and walked to the top of it while the others unloaded the equipment.
From the runway it had seemed to be no more than one of a haphazard group, but now he could see clearly that it marked the exact corner of the old Roman Practice Camp, the meeting point of two lines of hillocks and low banks now related to one another as the time-eroded remains of the earth ramparts.
He turned back to speak to the men behind him and saw with surprise that the water tower was once more in view. The changes in the land were extraordinarily deceptive, its rise and fall so gentle here that they tricked the eye. Yet it was perfectly logical: no Roman military engineer would ever have marked out a camp in a hollow, not even a practice camp, but would have used the rising ground to advantage.
And it even added a touch of perfection to Steerforth's opportunism.
He stepped down to where Roskill and Butler stood amid a small pile of equipment.
'Where to now?' The resignation in Roskill's voice suggested that although DECCO was a far cry from the old mine detectors it was heavier than it looked.
Right or wrong, Audley knew this was his moment and he couldn't dummy4
resist underplaying it.
'Where you're standing, near enough.'
Butler looked around him disbelievingly.
'Here? But, damn it–we're still well inside the perimeter! Why, you can see this patch from miles away. No one could dig a hole here without its being spotted, not when the airfield was in use!'
'Let's try here all the same,' said Audley patiently. 'Let's see what the machine has to say.'
Roskill began to fiddle with DECCO, and with a shrug Butler emptied half a dozen reels of white tape from a canvas haversack.
'We'll lay down the start lines first, then. How long do you want for the base line, Dr Audley?'
'Ten yards, say.'
'
'Jesus Christ!' whispered Roskill. 'I've got a reading!'
Butler swung round towards him.
'I've got a reading,' said Roskill. 'It's right here under my feet!'
Butler set the tape down and strode over to him, peering over his shoulder.
'It's a strong one, too. Left a bit ... a bit more . . . steady–that's it!'
They both looked up at Audley.
'Well, there's something down there right enough, and it's fairly substantial,' said Roskill. 'Richardson said this thing was so dummy4
sensitive it would pick up the studs in an old boot. But we've got a lot more than an old boot here.'
Butler looked accusingly at Audley.
'And that wasn't luck, Dr Audley. You knew damn well it was there–you knew to the inch!'
Roskill set DECCO down carefully to one side.
'After what we went through yesterday,' he said gently, 'I do think you owe us some explanation for this sudden fit of–what's the word–serendipity . . . Just tell us, Dr Audley –is this the real thing?'
Audley breathed out heavily, conscious suddenly that he had been holding his breath.
'I rather think it must be,' he managed to say. 'But I give you my word I didn't know until last night. I hadn't a clue up to then. Or rather, I couldn't make sense of the clues we had.'
'Never mind the clues,' cut in Butler. 'Just tell us how the hell Steerforth dug a hole in full view of everyone for miles around without anyone noticing.'
'The answer is that he didn't dig it, Major Butler. It was already dug for him. You see, there was an archaeological dig going on here all that summer, off and on. They filled the trench up just at this point on August 28, and that's the day after he landed his boxes in the hollow just down there.'
Roskill whistled to himself softly.
'They'd known about this Roman camp for ages, of course. But it wasn't a very promising site, and it was only because the farmer dummy4
who owned the land was interested in archaeology that they decided to excavate it. That was in 1938, actually. But then the RAF got in first and they had to wait until 1945–and then they only obtained permission on condition that they dug one trench at a time and filled it in before they started on the next one.
'It's all neatly marked on a map the farmer's son lent me, and when I saw the date on this trench I was pretty sure that it was here if it was anywhere. It fitted in with something the navigator told me.'
'And Steerforth was bound to know about it,' Roskill murmured, looking back towards the airfield. 'He must
