himself to acknowledge.
Jon rose from his desk, about to go over to the crowded bookshelf and take down another book. Fantasy or not, he was keen to discover why Stanton Combe, once a place of great importance, no longer attracted the kind of attention devoted to other Neolithic sites. He gave himself a mental shake. He’d already stayed far too late tonight. He had a lecture on nomadic tribes of the Paleolithic period to deliver to his second-year archaeology students at nine-thirty the following morning. It was time he went home. There was a portion of chicken casserole in the freezer. He could check through his notes for tomorrow while it cooked, maybe pour himself a glass of that nice merlot he’d opened at the weekend.
He emerged from his study then turned to lock the door.
“Burning the midnight oil again, Jon?” The voice came from behind him.
He looked round to be greeted by the white-haired, corpulent figure of the university’s Vice-Chancellor, Henry Mortimer.
It was no surprise to see the man wandering the corridors of the faculty building. Before Henry had been appointed to the role three years ago, he’d been head of the archaeology department, and he still kept up his research activities alongside his administrative duties. Jon knew Henry had been widely considered the right choice for the job, thoroughly at home in dealing with policy makers and leaders of industry as he promoted the university’s interests in the wider business world. He also had no apparent enemies among his colleagues. That was certainly unusual for a man who’d been part of academic life as long as Henry had.
“Oh, hi, Henry. I’m just on my way home.” He regarded the Vice-Chancellor, who wore a heavy overcoat and had a plaid scarf wrapped round his neck. Not what he’d call normal attire for the start of June, but then the weather had been unseasonably cold over the last few days. “Do you need a lift anywhere?”
Henry shook his head. “I’m fine, thank you. I have to pop into the city center on a spot of business, and I wouldn’t want to take you out of your way.”
“Okay, well, I’ll see you later, then.”
“Before you go, I’m hosting one of my regular staff suppers at the rectory next Friday night, and I realized you hadn’t been to one of my little soirées since I moved there. I hope I can count on seeing you?”
That was one of the other reasons Henry had been such a popular choice for his new role. He knew how to throw a good party.
“It’s very kind of you to invite me, but I’m afraid I’m not going to be around. I’m meeting up with an old friend from Cambridge that night.” The lie slipped easily from his mouth. The last thing he needed was an evening spent with his fellow members of staff, listening to them moan about their petty grievances regarding their jobs and the way the department was run.
“Well, that’s a shame. Another time, maybe?”
“Of course. Goodnight, Henry.”
Jon headed for the exit, but for some reason the one thing on his mind as he walked to the staff car park wasn’t why he’d ducked out of accepting Henry’s invitation or even Simon. He was thinking about lions.
Chapter Six
He walked the streets, hands deep in the pockets of his coat, not wanting to draw attention to himself. It had been some weeks since he’d last taken this route through the quiet streets, and the lights of a passing police car reminded him that this was not the safest part of the city center for a man like him to be wandering through. But it was where he had to be tonight. The moon was full, unobstructed by clouds. A perfect night for what he needed to do.
Experience had taught him that one of the places the rough sleepers liked to congregate was close to the bus station, and he headed in that direction, taking a shortcut past the renovated Thermae spa, its glass-walled exterior lit up in shades of blue and green. A young couple made staggering progress down the
Jon rose from his desk, about to go over to the crowded bookshelf and take down another book. Fantasy or not, he was keen to discover why Stanton Combe, once a place of great importance, no longer attracted the kind of attention devoted to other Neolithic sites. He gave himself a mental shake. He’d already stayed far too late tonight. He had a lecture on nomadic tribes of the Paleolithic period to deliver to his second-year archaeology students at nine-thirty the following morning. It was time he went home. There was a portion of chicken casserole in the freezer. He could check through his notes for tomorrow while it cooked, maybe pour himself a glass of that nice merlot he’d opened at the weekend.
He emerged from his study then turned to lock the door.
“Burning the midnight oil again, Jon?” The voice came from behind him.
He looked round to be greeted by the white-haired, corpulent figure of the university’s Vice-Chancellor, Henry Mortimer.
It was no surprise to see the man wandering the corridors of the faculty building. Before Henry had been appointed to the role three years ago, he’d been head of the archaeology department, and he still kept up his research activities alongside his administrative duties. Jon knew Henry had been widely considered the right choice for the job, thoroughly at home in dealing with policy makers and leaders of industry as he promoted the university’s interests in the wider business world. He also had no apparent enemies among his colleagues. That was certainly unusual for a man who’d been part of academic life as long as Henry had.
“Oh, hi, Henry. I’m just on my way home.” He regarded the Vice-Chancellor, who wore a heavy overcoat and had a plaid scarf wrapped round his neck. Not what he’d call normal attire for the start of June, but then the weather had been unseasonably cold over the last few days. “Do you need a lift anywhere?”
Henry shook his head. “I’m fine, thank you. I have to pop into the city center on a spot of business, and I wouldn’t want to take you out of your way.”
“Okay, well, I’ll see you later, then.”
“Before you go, I’m hosting one of my regular staff suppers at the rectory next Friday night, and I realized you hadn’t been to one of my little soirées since I moved there. I hope I can count on seeing you?”
That was one of the other reasons Henry had been such a popular choice for his new role. He knew how to throw a good party.
“It’s very kind of you to invite me, but I’m afraid I’m not going to be around. I’m meeting up with an old friend from Cambridge that night.” The lie slipped easily from his mouth. The last thing he needed was an evening spent with his fellow members of staff, listening to them moan about their petty grievances regarding their jobs and the way the department was run.
“Well, that’s a shame. Another time, maybe?”
“Of course. Goodnight, Henry.”
Jon headed for the exit, but for some reason the one thing on his mind as he walked to the staff car park wasn’t why he’d ducked out of accepting Henry’s invitation or even Simon. He was thinking about lions.
Chapter Six
He walked the streets, hands deep in the pockets of his coat, not wanting to draw attention to himself. It had been some weeks since he’d last taken this route through the quiet streets, and the lights of a passing police car reminded him that this was not the safest part of the city center for a man like him to be wandering through. But it was where he had to be tonight. The moon was full, unobstructed by clouds. A perfect night for what he needed to do.
Experience had taught him that one of the places the rough sleepers liked to congregate was close to the bus station, and he headed in that direction, taking a shortcut past the renovated Thermae spa, its glass-walled exterior lit up in shades of blue and green. A young couple made staggering progress down the
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