Tunnels

up.'

Chester rubbed some soil out of his ear. He looked at Will thoughtfully. 'My mum thinks people shouldn't keep secrets from each other. She says they always have a way of coming out and causing nothing but trouble. She says a secret's just the same as a lie. That's what she tells my dad, anyway.'

'And now I'm doing exactly that to Mum and Rebecca,' Will said, bowing his head.

* * * * *

After Chester had gone and Will finally emerged from the cellar, he made straight for the kitchen, as he always did. Rebecca was sitting at the kitchen table opening the mail. Will noticed right away that his father's hoard of empty coffee jars, which had cluttered up the table for months, had vanished.

'What've you done with them?' he demanded, looking around the room. 'With Dad's jars?'

Rebecca studiously ignored him as she scrutinized the postmark on an envelope.

'You threw them out, didn't you?' he said. 'How could you do that?'

She glanced up at him briefly, as if he were nothing more than a tiresome gnat that she couldn't quite be bothered to swat, and then continued with the mail.

'I'm starving. Anything to eat?' he said, deciding it wasn't wise to ruffle her feathers by pursuing the matter, not so close to mealtime. As he passed her on the way to the fridge, he stopped to examine something lying to the side. 'What's this?'

It was a package neatly wrapped in brown paper.

'It's addressed to Dad. I think we should open it,' he said without a moment's hesitation, snatching up a dirty butter knife left on a plate by the sink. Cutting into the brown paper, he excitedly tore open the cardboard box inside, then ripped away a cocoon of bubble wrap to reveal a luminous sphere, glowing from its time in the darkness.

He held it up before him, his eyes sparkling with both excitement and the waning light emanating from the sphere. It was the object he'd read about in his father's journal.

Rebecca had stopped reading the telephone bill and had risen to her feet. She was looking at the sphere intently.

'There's a letter in here as well,' Will said, reaching into the ravaged cardboard box.

'Here, let me see it,' Rebecca said, her hand snaking toward the box. Will took a step back, holding the sphere in one hand while he shook open the letter with the other. Rebecca withdrew her hand and sat back down, watching her brother's face carefully as he leaned on the counter by the sink and began to read the letter aloud. It was from University College 's physics department.

Dear Roger,

It was wonderful to hear from you again after all these years — it brought back warm memories of our time together at college. It was also good to catch up on your news — Steph and I would love to visit when convenient.

As regards the item, I apologize for taking so long to respond, but I wanted to be sure I had collated the results from all concerned. The upshot is that we are well and truly stumped.

As you specified, we did not breach or penetrate the glass casing of the sphere, so all our tests were noninvasive in nature.

On the matter of the radioactivity, no harmful emissions registered when it was tested — so at least I can put your mind at rest on that one.

A metallurgist carried out an MS on a microscopic shaving from the base of the metal cage, and he agreed with your view that it's Georgian. He thinks the cage is made out of pinchbeck, which is an alloy of copper and zinc invented by Christopher Pinchbeck (1670–1732). It was used as a substitute for gold and only produced for a short while. Apparently, the formula for this alloy was lost when the inventor's son, Edward, died. He also told me that genuine examples of this material are scarce, and it's hard to find an expert who can give an unequivocal identification. Unfortunately, I haven't yet been able to get the cage carbon dated to confirm its precise age — maybe next time?

What is particularly interesting is that an x-ray revealed a small, free-floating particle in the center of the sphere itself that does not alter its position even after rigorous agitation — this is puzzling, to say the least. Moreover, from a physical inspection, we agree with you that the sphere appears to be filled with two distinct liquid factions of differing densities. The turbulence you noted in these factions does not correspond to temperature variations, internal or external, but is unquestionably photoreactive — it only seems to be affected by a lack of light!

Here's the rub: The crew over in the chemistry department have never seen anything like it before. I had a fight on my hands to get it back from — they were dying to crack the thing open in controlled conditions and run a full analysis. They tried spectroscopy when the sphere was at its brightest (at maximum excitation its emissions are in the visible spectrum — in layman's terms, not far off daylight, with a level of UV within acceptable safety parameters, and the «liquids» appeared to be predominately helium — and silver-based. We can't make any more progress on this until you allow us to open it.

One hypothesis is that the solid particulate at the center may be acting as a catalyst for a reaction that is triggered by the absence of light. We can't confirm how, at this juncture, or come up with any comparable reactions that would occur over such a long period of time, assuming the sphere really does date from the Georgian era. Remember, helium was not discovered until 1895 — this is at odds with our estimate for the date of the metal casing.

In short, what we have here is a conundrum. We would all very much welcome a visit from you for a multifaculty meeting so that we can schedule a program for further analysis of the item. It may even be useful for some of our team to drop into Highfield for a quick investigation into the background.

I look forward to hearing from you.

With kindest regards,

Tom

Professor Thomas Dee

Will put the letter on the table and met Rebecca's stare. He examined the sphere for a moment, then went over to the light switch and, shutting the door to the kitchen, flicked off the lights. They both watched as the sphere grew in brightness from a dim greenish luminescence to something that indeed approached daylight, all in a matter of seconds.

'Wow,' he said in wonder. 'And they're right, it doesn't even feel hot.'

'You knew about this, didn't you? I can read you as easily as a comic book,' Rebecca said, staring fixedly at Will's face, which was lit by the strange glow.

Will didn't respond as he turned on the lights but left the door shut. They watched as the sphere dulled again. 'You know how you said no one was doing anything about finding Dad?' he said eventually.

'So?'

Chester and I came across something of his and we've been… making our own inquiries.'

'I knew it!' she said loudly. 'What have you found out?'

'Shh,' Will hissed, glancing at the closed door. 'Keep it down. I'm certainly not going to bother Mum with any of this. Last thing I want to do is get her hopes up. Agreed?'

'Agreed,' Rebecca said.

'We found a book Dad was keeping notes in — a sort of journal,' Will said slowly.

'Yes, and…?'

As they sat at the kitchen table, Will recounted what he had read in the journal and also their encounter with the strange pallid men outside the Clarke's shop.

He stopped short of telling her about the tunnel under the house. To him, that was just a little secret.