Prior Tuck appeared to be totally confident as he took charge of events. He came to speak to my little group and said, ‘I’ve been offered a selection of vehicles, equipment and experts,’ he announced. ‘We’re not sure what’s required so we’ve brought a choice. Once we’ve determined what we should do, the other vehicles and operators can return to work. Now, let me introduce Joe Sampson, he’s the site surveyor and has offered his services.’
‘Good afternoon.’ In his bright yellow jacket, Sampson, a tall fair-haired man in his late forties, spoke with a cultured accent. ‘Pleased to meet you all. So can someone explain to me exactly what the current situation is, then we can see what can be done.’
‘Nick?’ asked the prior having been away for a while.
‘Sure.’ I gave my name then offered a full and detailed explanation, bringing events up-to-date with the current situation and not forgetting an account of recent problems. I called on Elaine to explain what she had done and how things had escalated. I concluded by saying we felt sure that Simon was somewhere beneath the most recent heavy landslide, pointing out there were several entrances including one close by. Elaine had already indicated that at least one of the police dogs was beneath that point. I stressed that we believed Simon was with that dog, probably still alive but unconscious adding that we had had no communication from him. I also referred to the skills of the three monkstables now at my side. Meanwhile, Brother George had wandered off and had returned to the patch of higher ground that gave him an elevated view across the campus. Something was still demanding his attention but he did not seem inclined to share it with anyone. I puzzled over his behaviour – it was as if he was cutting himself off, wanting to be away from all the turmoil and activity which might not produce a good result.
‘First, let me examine the location alone,’ requested Joe, oblivious of my worry about Brother George.
He mounted a secure rock to elevate himself above the crowd and continued. ‘All of you please remain here, I don’t want a crowd of people tramping across the roofs of these passages, as any one of them might collapse and that would create another blockage. Heavy falling stones could kill the boy or animal. We need to take every precaution.’
And so we remained in our small gathering but gathered at the roadside very close to my barns. I suddenly noticed the abbot among the crowd, and was then surprised to see DCS Napier at his side, and, even more surprising, in the background was the dark figure of Harvey the sculptor. So it had been his white van! No one spoke. It was almost as if the sound of voices would break some kind of spell. Elaine joined us, momentarily suspending her hunt for Holmes but at Joe’s request, she did speak as she called Sherlock and we heard his bark from beneath us. In the silence, Joe did not walk on top of the landslide but skirted it gingerly, sometimes stooping to check some minor point with his bare hands and at other times listening carefully with his head on one side. From time to time, he asked Elaine for another guiding bark from Sherlock. He examined the first entrance by which we had thought Simon had entered the underground maze, then shook his head.
He returned to address us. ‘It would be dangerous to dig down from above the area where we believe Simon to be. The landslide has dislodged heavy rocks and sodden earth, and if we excavate downwards from the surface we could disturb the overlying materials and whatever’s beneath. The whole thing could collapse and bury him. The network of monks’ cells will have created a fairly stable system of passages as Simon has managed to get so far underground. And so has Sherlock even if we are uncertain which of the entrances Simon used. Sherlock used the distant one, over there’ – he pointed – ‘but there is one near this location. So, gentleman, if we can’t dig downwards then we must enter from the side, shoring up our tunnelling as we progress. Now, I am told there are three monks with caving experience and architectural expertise?’
The two Wills and Mutch indicated their presence with raised hands.
‘Which is which?’ asked Joe.
‘We’re both called Will,’ said Will Stutely. ‘But I am Will the Caver, and my colleague here is Will the Draftsman. He knows about stresses and strains in earthworks and buildings. And this is Father Miller who is both a caver and a weightlifter. He’s pretty good at shifting blockages, I can tell you. And we can get the Abbey estate workers to help with the digging.’
Joe continued, ‘That all sounds very promising! My colleagues and I are skilled at erecting buildings after excavating foundations, but we are not accustomed to digging underground where people or animals might be lying injured. So we need advice. Will the Caver, what do you recommend we do?’
‘I agree we should enter from the side and not the top; we need lighting once we’re in there and we will also need a narrow stretcher and first aid equipment.’
‘Would you be prepared to enter any tunnel we either discover or create?’
‘I would, but after first inspecting it for myself.’ Monkstable Stutely made the sign of the cross on his forehead and chest.
And at that stage, Harvey surprised me by stepping forward, having worked his way without being noticed through the crowd towards the point of action. ‘I’ll volunteer to go underground,’ he offered. ‘I know I’m big and clumsy, but I have caving experience too. And strength.’
‘Good. So we have volunteers! Wonderful,’ nodded Joe. ‘It’s time for action.’
‘I’d also want a moment or two to ask God to protect me, Simon, the monkstables and the other rescuers, not forgetting the dogs!’ said Monkstable Stutely. ‘As we go deeper, we’ll need to shore up our tunnel. Whilst it won’t be too difficult reaching the target area if mechanical diggers are used, it will be far more difficult extricating an injured or unconscious person if trapped by heavy rocks or fallen timbers. If we move or disturb anything we might cause further falls. And as Father Will said, we’ll need floodlights.’
‘We’ve got some,’ nodded Joe. ‘For our sites after dark. We can use them.’
‘Good,’ smiled Will Stutely. ‘But we must act with speed now.’
Joe said, ‘At this stage, I am against using mechanical diggers because they could cause more landfalls. I’m afraid it’s down to the good old-fashioned picks and shovels.’
‘I’m capable of cracking rocks open,’ volunteered Harvey. ‘Even big ones with pickaxes….’
‘I’m delighted at this response,’ said Prior Tuck. ‘But we have estate workers who are handy with picks and shovels … they can do a lot to help. Under guidance.’
Joe nodded his agreement. ‘I’ll keep a JCB and a smaller digger here in case there are heavy boulders or fallen trees. Right, that’s settled. I’ll retain those vehicles and despatch the others back to the site while you organize the workers with their picks and shovels. Then we’re in business.’
‘The sooner we get started, the better,’ said Prior Tuck. ‘Whilst Joe is organizing his side of things, Brother George, can you contact as many estate workers as possible and tell them they are needed here with their wheelbarrows to shift the spoil and dump it? Tell them to bring plenty of picks and shovels and whatever lights they can find. It’s better to have more stuff than we need, far better than not having enough.’
‘Leave it to me,’ said Brother George who had remained quiet and isolated during the discussions.
‘I’ll drive you up to the estate office,’ offered Oscar Blaketon.
‘Whilst I’m there,’ said Brother George, ‘I’ll organize refreshments. I fear this might be long haul.’
‘Splendid idea,’ agreed Prior Tuck. ‘And now we must decide how to deploy the remaining monkstables. Gentlemen, the noise and activity that is going to be generated here within the next few minutes is bound to attract curious bystanders and even the press. People will come to see what’s going on and they could get in the way. So, can you form a barrier around the working area to prevent any access by unauthorized persons – Father Robin, perhaps you can oversee that?’
‘Of course.’
&nbs
p; ‘If anyone asks, tell them it is an exercise … you can say we are rescuing a trapped dog and we’re doing it as realistically as possible.’
And so the task of locating and rescuing both Simon and Sherlock began in earnest. But I was very interested in why both Harvey and DCS Napier had decided to attend this operation. Did it mean someone else had been arrested for the murder?
CHAPTER 16
SO THE DELICATE rescue operation got underway. Elaine ordered Sherlock to remain with Simon from whom there had been no sign although Sherlock confirmed his presence when requested by his handler. His barks were immensely valuable as the rescuers carefully began to remove tons of earth, rocks and trees around the place the boy was thought to be trapped. Even then, there was no reaction from the other dog.
The rescuers were already proving very adept and their gentleness reminded me of archaeologists as they removed the earth and other debris inch by inch from a precious relic, always careful not to disturb or damage anything of value. Large trees were sawn into manageable logs with chainsaws, heavy rocks were gently teased from the ground by miniature diggers and tons of earth were removed by the bucketful and carried off in dumper trucks as the rescue got underway.
As there was nothing I could do at this stage, I stood and watched from a respectful distance and could see that as the men worked, so they gained confidence in themselves and their machines. Nonetheless, any delicate work was undertaken by hand. I was impressed by their care and gentle workmanship and the knowledge and leadership skills of Joe Sampson.
A small crowd began to gather because the activity could be seen from the estate and a few houses in the locality. It was inevitable bystanders would arrive and, as it was after five o’clock, many staff members had come to watch before going home. The monkstables were preventing spectators from unintentionally interfering with the operation.
Then I realized we had forgotten something. No one had brought a stretcher. I made my way through the spectators towards Oscar Blaketon.
‘Could I ask a favour?’ I put to him. ‘Your car’s handy so can you drive up to the infirmary?’
‘Something wrong?’
‘No one’s brought a stretcher, or arranged for the ambulance to stand-by. I thought we should have them on hand if and when needed – like now! We could borrow one from the infirmary, can’t we? The ambulance can come later once we’ve got a clearer picture of events.’
‘My trusty old Morris Traveller will cope, Nick. You stay here as you could be needed. I’ll see to that.’
And he left to go upon his errand.
I was alone for a moment or two, standing apart from the growing crowd as I watched Oscar Blaketon’s gallant old vehicle head across the valley then I saw Brother George heading my way. He had been prepared to join the underground rescue attempt but Prior Tuck had advised against it, doubtless because of George’s age. Already, the rescue attempt was underway as the noise of machinery filled the air. Prior Tuck was in firm control.
‘He said this job was for younger people, Nick! I can take a hint!’ said George. ‘But I’d like a quiet word with you. With no one overhearing us.’
‘Fine, let’s take a walk.’
Recalling George’s moments of thoughtful solitude, I wondered what was troubling him, so we strolled in silence over to my barns. The frontage was now a car-park. I reasoned that our detachment from the rescue effort would be hidden from curious sightseers. I found a low stone wall for us to sit upon and asked, ‘So, Brother George, what can I do for you?’
‘I’ve something to say but hope you don’t think I’m being silly.’
‘I’m sure I won’t think that! It’s a good idea to share something that’s worrying you. How can I help?’
‘You’ve seen the maps on the walls of the murder room?’ he began.
‘I have. The detectives managed to locate a lot of them in a very short time – no doubt the monastery library helped.’
‘Right, now the cricket field is clearly shown—’
‘George’s Field, your field in other words?’
‘I don’t own it,’ he corrected me. ‘It’s just named after me because I created it out of an abandoned overgrown area full of rubbish. They didn’t call it Brother George’s Field in case I became ordained, then it would have to be changed to Father George’s Field, or even Prior George’s Field, or Abbot George’s Field or just Abbot’s Field.’ He grinned cheekily. ‘Or even Archbishop’s, Cardinal’s or Pope’s Field … but I know I shall always be Brother George.’
‘So what’s your point?’
‘You know that excavations are under way in a corner of it? And that the search area resulted from an aerial photograph? A helicopter pilot flying over it is supposed to have noticed the outlines of foundations beneath the surface and photographed the site. A common occurrence. Then, fairly recently, the archaeologist got permission from the abbot for an exploratory excavation.’
‘That’s what I heard,’ I nodded. ‘He’s a freelance called Rawdon and his team of six are students from York University.’
‘Yes. I was there when Detective Chief Superintendent Napier confirmed he’d checked his identity and purpose. There were no problems. Rawdon has no convictions and neither have any of his students.’
‘Right, Brother George, and also Mr Napier would have asked the local police to check his home address and background. Clearly, they did so and there were no problems. Rawdon is not in the frame for the murder, as we say.’
Brother George eventually came to his point. ‘I must tell you this. This morning very early, I went into the library to have a look at that aerial photo. I’m not happy with the situation which is why I hunted out the original map that I used when creating the cricket field. A copy of the aerial photo is in the library having been donated by Rawdon. I looked at it this morning.’
‘Go on.’
‘That aerial photograph is a fake, Nick.’
For a moment or two, I was unsure what he was trying to explain, so I asked, ‘How can it be a fake? How do you fake such a photo?’
‘Oh, the photo is genuine enough. It is a real aerial photograph of a field with evidence of former buildings or some other structure like an old road beneath the surface. That’s not in doubt. But it is not a photo of George’s Field, Nick. That’s my point.’
‘How can you know that? A field is a field….’
‘No, it isn’t. Fields have identities, characteristics. Believe me, Nick. That photo does not show George’s Field. It shows somewhere else, but I don’t know where. As you know, all digital photographs are automatically dated and timed by modern cameras. This one is no exception. It is dated four years ago – on Wednesday, 20 May to be precise, and it is timed at ten minutes past three in the afternoon of that day – but of some unknown field. There is no location marked and no map reference. It was the Feast Day of St Bernardine of Sienna, that’s how I remember it. Bernardine, by the way, was a man’s name. He was a Franciscan monk and renowned as a preacher in Italy.’
‘All fascinating stuff, Brother George, but what has this got to do with that photo being a fake?’
‘Wednesday is sports afternoon at Maddleskirk College, Nick. That day – 20 May – was the final of the college’s interhouse cricket tournament. St Aelred’s was playing St Aidan’s on George’s Field that afternoon. It was a fine, dry and sunny day, I know, I was there. At that time, the south-east corner was occupied by the pavilion, and even if we had not been actually playing a match, the outfield would have been cut, the site of the pitch selected with the crease marked, boundaries and so on highlighted with white lines. There was always a roller on hand too, parked behind the pavilion … none of those things is on the photo submitted by that man Rawdon. They would have been, if it was genuine.’
‘So, to your knowledge, has George’s Field ever been photographed from the air? Indeed, is it known whether it sits on top of an ancient ruin of some kind?’
‘That possibility has never been sugg
ested, Nick. Having worked on that field and seen a dowser at work there, looking for water pipes, I know there is nothing of the kind beneath the surface of George’s Field, and neither are there any ancient foundations.’
‘You sound very sure.’
‘I am very sure, I’m positive, Nick, and there’s evidence to support my statement. The field was photographed from the air by one of the ex-students who was given a lift over it in a helicopter. His photo is on file in the library and there are no signs of ancient walls or stonework under the ground. If there had been, the outlines would be visible on his photo.’
‘Well, that seems positive enough.’
‘That’s why I find this very worrying, particularly with so much going on now. Something is very wrong, Nick. Very wrong indeed.’
I wasn’t quite sure what he was driving at because, as a result of the disputed photograph, an archaeologist and his team of volunteers had come to excavate and research the area. They must have thought the photo was genuine. According to checks made by the murder team, Rawdon and his volunteers had no criminal records and nothing was known against them. To all intents and purposes, it was a perfectly normal archaeological excavation. So why would someone go to such lengths to excavate George’s Field – what could they be looking for? Why search for something that was patently not there? Even more curiously, why go to the extent of faking a photograph and gathering a team together to hunt for something for which no genuine proof existed? Or was it all due to someone’s carelessness – or even a genuine mistake?
‘What do you read into this, Brother George?’
‘I’m no intellectual, Nick, neither am I a detective or even an historian. I’m just an old retired Yorkshire farmer who happens to have become a Benedictine brother and I find it all to be very baffling.’
‘You must have had a reason for telling me.’
‘I’ve heard you telling us during those training sessions that detectives and police officers rarely believe in coincidences.’
Murder at Maddleskirk Abbey Page 18
