raised his eyebrows. ‘What sort of connection?’
‘I don’t know. But he claimed that he once worked for Crace and he did receive a letter from Crace’s PA on the day he left
Carcassonne. We found it amongsthis belongings. He had an appointment to see Crace the day after tomorrow – which I intend to keep for him.’
‘We
are
moving in high circles. Ask him if he’ll make a large donation to the archaeological unit while you’re there, will you?’
He frowned. ‘Somehow I can’t see a loser like Ian Rowe hobnobbing with someone like Martin Crace. Can you?’
‘No doubt all will be revealed.’ He felt the subject of Ian Rowe was exhausted for now. Neil didn’t know any more about the
man than he did. Which was as he’d expected. But a part of him had been clinging to the hope that Neil could remember something
relevant about the dead man or his friends that had passed him by. ‘When are you starting the dig?’
‘As soon as the field walking and the geophysics are done. The site was dug before, back in the nineteen eighties. But I can’t
find the reports.’
‘Probably filed in the wrong place.’
He saw Neil shrug. Filing, he imagined, wasn’t his strong point. ‘The director of the dig was a Dr Maggie March. She was killed
in a car accident shortly after the dig was completed.’
‘But there must be someone else you can ask.’
‘March’s second in command – a woman called Wendy Haskel – went missing the day after March died. Rumour has it that her clothes
were found on the beach at Littlebury. Suicide probably.’
Wesley raised his eyebrows. ‘Oh dear, not a lucky dig, was it?’
‘You could say that. I’ve had everyone looking highand low for the site reports but there’s no sign of them so it looks like I’ll have to start from scratch.’ A sly smile appeared
on his lips. ‘Still, that should hold things up a bit for Mr Bright. What is it they say about clouds and silver linings?
It’s a lovely spot. Sloping down towards the river; views of the water through the trees. Pity it’s got to be concreted over.
I’ve done some preliminary research. The estate belonged to a family called de Grendalle back in the middle ages – hence the
name Grandal Field, I suppose. From the geophysics, it looks as if there’s a whole manorial complex under there – high-status
site.’
‘Have you tried to trace the other people who took part in the nineteen eighties dig?’
‘Funny you should say that. I rang Professor Maplin last night. You remember Karl Maplin?’
Wesley nodded. He remembered Professor Maplin from his student days. He’d been a gossipy little man, quite fun to be with
unless you were on the receiving end. ‘Of course I do. How is he?’
‘Same as ever – loves to dish the dirt. He’s semiretired now, of course, but he still does some teaching and digs when he
can. He told me he can’t remember much about Dr March’s dig here. It was only really remarkable, he said, for what happened
afterwards – March’s accident and her deputy’s disappearance.’
Wesley looked at his watch. ‘I’d better get back.’
Neil stood up. ‘Me too. Duty calls. I’ve got to make Jon Bright’s life a misery by telling him that the geophysics and the
aerial photos indicate that it couldbe a really important site and that could mean major delays to the development.’
Wesley had to smile. Neil’s attitude towards the world of commerce was adversarial, to say the least.
‘Bit of a shock about Rowe,’ Neil said quietly as they strolled outside, making for Wesley’s car. ‘Let me know how you get
on with Sir Martin Crace, won’t you?’
‘Will do.’ Wesley unlocked the car door and turned to face his friend. ‘And good luck with the dig. From what I hear about
Jon Bright, you’re going to need it. By the way, have you heard of a group called the Pure Sons of the West?’
‘I’ve heard of them. Keep threatening to take action
‘I don’t know. But he claimed that he once worked for Crace and he did receive a letter from Crace’s PA on the day he left
Carcassonne. We found it amongsthis belongings. He had an appointment to see Crace the day after tomorrow – which I intend to keep for him.’
‘We
are
moving in high circles. Ask him if he’ll make a large donation to the archaeological unit while you’re there, will you?’
He frowned. ‘Somehow I can’t see a loser like Ian Rowe hobnobbing with someone like Martin Crace. Can you?’
‘No doubt all will be revealed.’ He felt the subject of Ian Rowe was exhausted for now. Neil didn’t know any more about the
man than he did. Which was as he’d expected. But a part of him had been clinging to the hope that Neil could remember something
relevant about the dead man or his friends that had passed him by. ‘When are you starting the dig?’
‘As soon as the field walking and the geophysics are done. The site was dug before, back in the nineteen eighties. But I can’t
find the reports.’
‘Probably filed in the wrong place.’
He saw Neil shrug. Filing, he imagined, wasn’t his strong point. ‘The director of the dig was a Dr Maggie March. She was killed
in a car accident shortly after the dig was completed.’
‘But there must be someone else you can ask.’
‘March’s second in command – a woman called Wendy Haskel – went missing the day after March died. Rumour has it that her clothes
were found on the beach at Littlebury. Suicide probably.’
Wesley raised his eyebrows. ‘Oh dear, not a lucky dig, was it?’
‘You could say that. I’ve had everyone looking highand low for the site reports but there’s no sign of them so it looks like I’ll have to start from scratch.’ A sly smile appeared
on his lips. ‘Still, that should hold things up a bit for Mr Bright. What is it they say about clouds and silver linings?
It’s a lovely spot. Sloping down towards the river; views of the water through the trees. Pity it’s got to be concreted over.
I’ve done some preliminary research. The estate belonged to a family called de Grendalle back in the middle ages – hence the
name Grandal Field, I suppose. From the geophysics, it looks as if there’s a whole manorial complex under there – high-status
site.’
‘Have you tried to trace the other people who took part in the nineteen eighties dig?’
‘Funny you should say that. I rang Professor Maplin last night. You remember Karl Maplin?’
Wesley nodded. He remembered Professor Maplin from his student days. He’d been a gossipy little man, quite fun to be with
unless you were on the receiving end. ‘Of course I do. How is he?’
‘Same as ever – loves to dish the dirt. He’s semiretired now, of course, but he still does some teaching and digs when he
can. He told me he can’t remember much about Dr March’s dig here. It was only really remarkable, he said, for what happened
afterwards – March’s accident and her deputy’s disappearance.’
Wesley looked at his watch. ‘I’d better get back.’
Neil stood up. ‘Me too. Duty calls. I’ve got to make Jon Bright’s life a misery by telling him that the geophysics and the
aerial photos indicate that it couldbe a really important site and that could mean major delays to the development.’
Wesley had to smile. Neil’s attitude towards the world of commerce was adversarial, to say the least.
‘Bit of a shock about Rowe,’ Neil said quietly as they strolled outside, making for Wesley’s car. ‘Let me know how you get
on with Sir Martin Crace, won’t you?’
‘Will do.’ Wesley unlocked the car door and turned to face his friend. ‘And good luck with the dig. From what I hear about
Jon Bright, you’re going to need it. By the way, have you heard of a group called the Pure Sons of the West?’
‘I’ve heard of them. Keep threatening to take action
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