by Jim Eldridge
‘Maybe they’ve been buried too deep,’ suggested Michelle.
Andy shook his head.
‘Trust me, if it was here, Woody would smell it,’ he said. ‘Either it was never there in the first place . . .’
‘Or someone’s already found it and dug it up,’ finished Robert.
Jake felt gloomy as they returned to their cars again.
‘This isn’t going well,’ he whispered to Robert.
‘Two down, still two to go,’ said Robert confidently.
‘Yes, but say we don’t find a book?’
‘Then we try again another time,’ said Robert.
‘Maybe the dog’s got a cold or a blocked nose?’ Jake whispered, shooting a look at Woody; but he knew he was clutching at straws.
He glanced towards Michelle, who was walking ahead of them, chatting to Andy. Jake suspected she was preparing a story for her magazine about sniffer dogs.
‘If we don’t find one this time, I can’t see Michelle spending any more time on this,’ he said, worried. ‘And we need her to publicise it.’
‘You give up too easily, Jake,’ said Robert. ‘Think positive.’
Jake sighed. It was hard to think positive. He’d been so full of expectations when they’d been planning this. He was sure that Michelle was right, that there would be some of the books buried near to the site of the abbey. And Lauren had been meticulous in her research, locating potential sites for the hidden books.
When they got to the lay-by, Jake looked around at the few cars that were parked there. No blue Renault. And none of the other vehicles looked familiar. Which didn’t mean that they weren’t being followed, just that someone was being very careful about doing it.
When they arrived at the third site, it looked the same as the first two. Another large field, this one had maize growing in it, and hedgerows left wild all the way around the outside: long grasses, flowers, brambles and nettles.
This is a waste of time, thought Jake gloomily. We’ve come all this way and we’re going to find nothing.
Once again, Andy held the piece of old blackened leather to Woody’s nose, and then let the dog amble along the narrow track at the side of the field on the lead, nose to the ground and sniffing, with Jake, Robert and Michelle following. As before, Jake and Robert were carrying spades and a trowel, ready to start digging. They’d gone for only about a hundred metres, when Woody stopped, looked up at Andy and barked excitedly.
‘He’s found something!’ Andy grinned. ‘I told you!’
‘Is it a book?’ asked Michelle eagerly.
‘We won’t know until we dig it up,’ replied Andy.
Woody now ran in small circles excitedly, nose to the ground.
‘He’s definitely found something!’ said Andy proudly. He pulled on the lead, and Woody moved back to sit beside Andy, looking up happily at his master as Andy patted him on the head. Both dog and man almost glowed with pride.
‘Right,’ said Jake, and he pushed a stout twig into the centre of the spot where Woody had been sniffing so energetically. ‘Let’s start digging.’
‘One at a time,’ advised Robert, ‘or we could end up getting in each other’s way.’
‘OK,’ said Jake, ‘I’ll start.’
He pushed the spade’s blade into the soft earth with a mounting feeling of excitement. A book! They were going to find a book! Then a niggle of doubt crept in. Maybe Woody had just found a bone. One thing was for sure, they’d soon find out.
Keep your fingers crossed for us, Lauren, he prayed silently, and turned out the first spadeful of soil.
‘Stop that!’
It was a man’s voice, commanding and angry.
They turned, and saw a tall man approaching, dressed neatly in a tweed jacket and trousers, and carrying a small briefcase.
He reached them, glared at Jake and demanded, ‘What do you think you’re doing?’
‘Digging,’ said Jake.
The man shook his head.
‘I’m afraid you can’t do that.’
‘And who are you?’ demanded Jake.
‘Eric Weems, clerk to the parish council.’
‘We’ve got permission from the landowner,’ said Jake. He turned to Robert, who produced the letter of consent he’d got from the farmer and handed it to the man. Weems scanned it, and then handed it back.
‘This letter is from the tenant farmer,’ he said. ‘This land is owned by a corporation.’
‘The farmer said he’d contacted them, and they’d said it was all right,’ said Robert.
Weems shook his head.
‘He may have told you that, but verbal understandings are not lawful,’ he told them. ‘You need written authorisation from the corporation to dig on their land. And even then, digging is only permitted in the field area where it is already cultivated for agricultural use.’ He gestured to the strip of grass and foliage where they were standing. ‘The borders around these fields are protected by environmental and ancient monument legislation.’
‘Which means . . . what?’ asked Michelle.
‘You will need permissions from the Heritage Commission, and the Ancient Sites Executive before you can do any digging in this section of ground. As well as from the local councils, parish and district. And to get those permissions, will require a full judicial review.’
So he’s a Watcher, thought Jake. And a good one, too. No need for protests or barricades, just bring in the bureaucratic jungle of legislation.
Jake saw that Michelle was about to bluster at the man, and he stepped in swiftly, giving Weems an apologetic smile.
‘Our apologies,’ he said. ‘We weren’t aware. We thought the letter we’d been given was authority enough.’
Weems shook his head.
‘It isn’t,’ he said firmly.
‘No, we see that now,’ said Jake, still keeping a genial friendly expression in his face. ‘No problem, we’ll leave . . .’
Michelle turned to Jake, angry.
‘Leave!’ she echoed.
‘We don’t have an alternative.’ Jake shrugged apologetically. ‘This gentleman has pointed out to us that we can’t dig here until we have the necessary authorisations, so that’s what we’ll do.’ He smiled again at Weems. ‘We’re obviously disappointed, but we do understand. Do you have a card or something, so we can get in touch with you when we’re ready to make the applications to dig?’
Weems seemed slightly taken aback at Jake’s compliant attitude, but he recovered. He took a small card from his wallet and handed it to Jake. On it were his name and phone numbers.
‘There,’ he said. Then his manner softened slightly. ‘Thank you for being cooperative in this matter,’ he said. ‘It can be very difficult with so many people searching for things connected with King Arthur. Unfortunately, on previous occasions, I’ve encountered a more hostile attitude. Sometimes it’s even led to my having to call in the police if people have got particularly difficult.’
I bet you have, thought Jake.
‘That’s no problem, Mr Weems,’ he said. ‘We understand.’ He turned to the others. ‘Right, I suggest we head back to the abbey and see what else they might have about Arthur and the Grail.’
With that, Jake set off towards the gate in the fence. The others hesitated, then hurried after him. Michelle caught up with him first.
‘You’re not just letting him kick us off the site as easily as that!’ she demanded, furious.
‘Of course not,’ Jake whispered back. ‘But the last thing we need is a major row. One thing we now know for sure, him turning up like that means we were in the right place. We’ll simply come back later, this evening.’
‘But we won’t find it again in the dark,’ insisted Michelle.
‘I’m not saying we leave it till dark, just the kind of time that Mr Weems is sitting down to his supper.’
‘But say Weems is suspicious and comes back later?’
‘We make sure he doesn’t,’ said Jake. ‘Robert, you know all
about planning and stuff.’
‘Yes,’ Robert nodded.
Jake gave Robert Weems’s card.
‘Could you give him a ring at home this evening and keep him talking about what it entails for us to submit our applications to all these different organisations he mentioned?’
Robert grinned.
‘And keep him talking for just long enough for you to dig up whatever’s at that spot?’
‘Exactly,’ said Jake.
Chapter 14
Jake felt a mixture of relief and excitement when they got back to the Grail and Thorn. They’d found the hiding place, he felt sure of it, so now he should be able to relax. But the anticipation of uncovering what lay buried at that spot, maybe finding out that it was just another empty cover and not a book, made him feel sick with tension. He felt so edgy that he knew he couldn’t just sit in the pub with the others, nor would he be able to relax in the room that he and Robert shared.
‘I’m going out to explore Glastonbury,’ he told them after they’d parked the cars. ‘Anyone fancy coming with me?’
The others declined: Andy wanted to take Woody for a long run; Robert wanted to read a newspaper and do the crossword, and Michelle said she had some work to catch up on.
‘OK,’ said Jake. ‘We’ll meet back here at seven, if that’s OK with everyone. Hopefully Weems will be off duty by then and settled down in front of the telly.’
‘And ready for my very boring call about local planning regulations.’ Robert grinned.
Jake headed into the town. As well as needing to be on the move, he reasoned it was a good idea for him to continue to be seen to be checking out all things Arthurian and keep up their cover. It was as he walked along the high street that he became aware of a couple of hippies he was sure he’d seen before.
Not that there should be anything particularly suspicious about that; after all, the place was full of visitors traipsing around, going in and out of shops and exhibits, and the odds were that people would keep bumping into one another. But there was something not quite right about these particular hippies. For one thing, they were young. Most of the hippies walking around Glastonbury seemed to be of an older generation, as though they had got stuck in a time warp in the 1960s, but their bodies had continued to age, and now they were grey-haired and frail-looking echoes of a time long gone by. But these two, although dressed in clothes from a time when tie-dye and sheepskin may have been cool, looked much, much younger. There was also a sharpness, an alertness about them, about their faces and their eyes, that didn’t fit with the laid-back look of their clothes. The same alertness was also in the way they moved; they were nimble on their feet. Not that hippies shouldn’t be nimble, but these two looked like people disguised as hippies. The man wore a tie-dye waistcoat over flared blue jeans, and the woman wore a long, shaggy sheepskin coat. Both wore coloured beads around their necks, and the man wore beads wrapped around one wrist. It was all too much, thought Jake.
He wondered if they might have been undercover police officers from the drugs squad. That could explain the discrepancy about how they looked, and how they acted. He tried to remember where he’d seen them before. Then it came to him. They’d been sitting at a table in the garden at the Grail and Thorn when he and Robert had arrived. Jake was sure they’d had drinks on the table with them, but they could have been empty glasses, or belonged to someone else. Then he was sure he’d seen them when he’d done his earlier solo walk around Glastonbury.
Had it just been coincidence? Or had Robert been right when he’d said that whoever was watching them would already be at Glastonbury, waiting for them? Had this couple been waiting for them? If so, why hadn’t they followed them when they’d gone to dig in the fields?
Jake stopped outside a shop selling crystals and other Arthurian artefacts and examined the display in the window. He stood there for at least three minutes. Then he turned and looked along the street. The couple were still in the same place he’d last seen them, standing outside a café, seemingly reading the menu on display.
Jake headed away from them, along the high street, and as he did he was aware of them moving off after him. Again, it could be coincidence, but there was one way to find out.
Jake did a U-turn and began to head back the way he’d just come, heading straight towards the couple. They stopped and began to look in a shop window as he passed them. Jake headed towards the same café where he’d seen them standing and apparently weighing up the contents of the menu. He went as if he was going to go in, but instead suddenly crossed the road and headed down a narrow cobbled side street, following a side that read ‘Public Toilets’.
The public toilets were in a small block in a little garden-like area at the end of the narrow alley. A wooden bench was near them. Jake went to the bench and sat down on it, and as he did so he was sure he saw a flash of light-blue flared jeans appear at the end of the narrow alleyway, but then disappear out of sight. Jake jumped up and headed back towards the alley. The man with the tie-dye waistcoat was standing there. There was no sign of the woman in the sheepskin coat.
The man hesitated. Jake guessed he was upset at being caught out like this. Then the man hurried towards the toilet block and went into the gents.
Again, it could have been coincidence, there weren’t that many public toilets in Glastonbury, but Jake was sure the man had been following him and had been forced to go into the toilet to avoid blowing his cover.
So where was the woman? Maybe waiting at the far end of the alley, by the cafeteria, ready to pick Jake up and continue following him if he reappeared. Well, he wasn’t going to give her that satisfaction. If she wanted to follow him, she’d have to work a bit harder. Jake crossed the small patch of garden area and headed for another narrow cobbled alley, this one leading towards a Pilgrimage Centre, according to the signpost. Not that it really mattered, Jake reflected. After all, the couple knew Jake and the others were staying at the Grail and Thorn and could pick them up at any time.
Jake wondered who they were, and who they were working for? His instinct was that they were working for Gareth, a pair of MI5 spooks checking that Jake really was in Glastonbury on a quest for King Arthur. Well, they’d be able to report back that Jake had spotted them and given them the slip. Not that he thought they would. After all, they wouldn’t want to look bad to their superiors, and — as Jake had said — they knew where everyone was.
But say they weren’t working for Gareth and MI5? If that was the case, who were they working for?
Chapter 15
When they met up in the pub car park at seven that evening, Jake told the others about the hippie couple, and him giving them the slip. Michelle was dismissive.
‘Maybe he really did want to use the toilet in a hurry,’ she said. ‘Hippies need to pee, too.’
Robert shook his head.
‘I think Jake’s right,’ he said. ‘We always guessed we were going to be watched when we got here.’ He grinned. ‘I just think they got it wrong using that sort of disguise. From Jake’s description, I remember seeing the pair of them in the garden when we arrived and thinking they looked like they were going to a fancy dress party. Not the best outfits to wear if you want to keep a low profile and not be spotted.’
‘Why all the interest in us?’ asked Andy.
‘Because of what we’re looking for,’ said Jake.
Andy shook his head in awe.
‘This must be some very special sort of book,’ he commented.
Michelle looked at her watch. ‘And the sooner we get our hands on it, the better,’ she said.
They pulled into the lay-by by the field at half past seven. No one followed them, and there was no further sign of the hippie couple. Jake wondered if the couple had realised they’d been spotted by Jake and had been pulled off the case. In which case, who had taken their place?
As the others got out of the cars, Robert dialled Weems’s number.
‘Mr Weems,’ said Robert cheerfully. ‘Robert Ge
orge calling. We met earlier with my friends in a field.’
Then, while Robert continued the conversation, outlining a hypothetical planning situation and asking complicated questions that would require a whole series of long answers, Jake, Michelle, and Andy with Woody in tow, took spades and a trowel from the boot of the car and headed down the narrow track to the place where Woody had got so excited earlier.
‘We’d better be quick,’ said Michelle. ‘Weems is going to get suspicious if Robert talks for too long, and the next thing we’ll have the police on us.’
As before, Jake let the dog sniff at the old oiled book cover, and Woody immediately went straight to the same spot and began barking and turning in a circle.
‘Definitely the place.’ Andy nodded.
Andy pulled Woody to one side, and the two kept watch for anyone approaching, while Jake set to work, digging, with Michelle filming the whole process.
After a few minutes of digging, with no success, Jake felt his arms tiring and his back aching.
‘There’s nothing here,’ he announced bitterly.
‘There is,’ said Andy confidently. ‘Woody’s never wrong. You need to put more welly into it. Dig deeper.’
‘And faster,’ said Michelle, focusing her camera on the hole that Jake had excavated. ‘Robert can’t keep Weems talking for ever.’
Jake grimaced, then returned to the task. Despite the urgings to go faster from Michelle and Andy, Jake dug carefully; worried in case the blade of his spade might puncture the leather casing around the book and release whatever might be inside. The image of the man who’d turned into a vegetable at the construction site in Bedfordshire still haunted him.
‘There it is!’ said Michelle excitedly.
On hearing her exclamation, Andy hurried over, keen to see what was happening. Jake stopped digging and peered into the hole. Yes, there did appear to be something poking out from the earth. He dropped the spade to one side and picked up the trowel, and began to carefully scrape around the dark object he could see. Gradually, a shape was revealed: a small box-like rectangular shape. Jake scraped away more of the earth, and finally exposed a black leather packet embossed with a letter M with a snake writhing through the letter. The symbol of Malichea. He’d found it! He’d found one of the books!