Darkhenge Read Online Free PDF Page B

together, modern bungalows and cottages with satellite dishes turning their backs uneasily on the prehistoric, windy uplands.
    Down a muddy lane with grass growing in its center he found a parked car, a few bicycles in the hedge. There was a gate, and he stopped the bike and looked through the bars.
    At once a bearded man came out of a Portakabin. “Can I help?” It sounded more like a threat, Rob thought. He got off the bike.
    â€œI heard you needed an artist. To draw finds and things.” It sounded lame. He had no idea what the right name for the job was.
    But the archaeologist just said, “Who sent you?”
    â€œA girl. She said to ask for Dr. Kavanagh.” He was glad he’d remembered the name.
    The man turned. “Leave the bike.”
    Rob climbed the gate. The field was muddy, oddly so for chalk country, and as they walked he saw it led down into a hollow. At the bottom was the dig, but to his surprise a high metal fence had been erected all around it, so nothing could be seen.
    â€œWait here.” The bearded man went inside, through a gate.
    Rob glanced around.
    It was eerily quiet. No rows of students troweling, no one taking photographs. A bird was chirping in the hedge, and beyond that somewhere a car droned down a distant lane. Wind rippled the edges of a plastic sheet. The rest of the field was deserted.
    A woman came out from the metal fence. She was wearing blue overalls and a T-shirt, and had blond hair, tied back. She looked at him with hostility. “What girl?”
    â€œI … don’t know her name. She was a student.”
    â€œShe had no business sending you here.”
    Rob blinked. “I’ll go then. Sorry.”
    The woman frowned. “Let me see your work. I presume you’ve brought something.”
    He’d seen her before somewhere. It suddenly struck him that she might be Dr. Kavanagh, and the image he hadn’t realized he had, of a middle-aged man in tweeds, vanished. Awkward, he took out a sketchbook and handed it to her.
    She flipped through the pages. Rob tried to stand confidently. He hated people looking at his work, but he knew it was good. He was an accurate draftsman, he delighted in intricate drawings of anything that was complicated: machines, trees, buildings. At first the pages were ruffled quickly but he knew by the way she slowed, the way she gazed, that she was impressed. He lifted his chin a little.
    â€œWell, yes. But you’ve had no training. We need sections, reconstructions, plans. Careful measurements, accuracy.”
    â€œI could learn.” He licked his lips. “The girl said you were shorthanded.”
    Dr. Kavanagh closed the book and handed it back. She breathed deep, put her hands on her hips, and stared down at a muddy boot. Then she looked up at him, considering, and he saw her eyes were blue and clear.
    â€œWhat’s your name?”
    â€œRobert Drew.”
    â€œLocal?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œDependable? Not going off on holiday?”
    â€œNo,” he muttered.
    She was silent. Then she said, “Look, Robert, this project is very important. It’s also likely to prove controversial, so we don’t want news of it getting out. If I trace any leaks in security back to you, you’re off the site. Understand?”
    He shrugged. Had they found treasure? Gold?
    â€œWe are short of people, though that’s as I want it. There’s not much money. Three pounds an hour, strictly cash. If anyone asks, you’re just a volunteer. I can’t be bothered with paperwork.”
    He could probably get more wiping tables, but then what he’d said to Dan was true. He had enough money. And somehow her reluctance made him more keen. “Okay.”
    She sighed, as if she still wasn’t sure. Then she turned. “Come on.”
    The metal fence was head high. Behind it, he found a network of bewilderment: trenches, ridges of sliced soil, pegs and strings, tags with