The Cadaver Game Read Online Free PDF Page A

stood guarding the headland a couple of
     miles away to the south, but he was sure the others could manage without him for a few days. And money was money.
    ‘So let me get this straight. Sixteen years ago a group of artists had a picnic—’
    ‘A Feast of Life to be exact. A large trench had been dug and when a hunting horn was sounded exactly ten minutes after we’d
     begun to eat, we deposited everything that was left of the banquet into the ground, tables, plates and all, representing our
     reliance on the earth for our sustenance.’ Orford had a distant look in his eyes as though he was reminiscing about some great
     past triumph. ‘It was an awesome moment, conducted in complete silence. A lot of my work deals with our relationship with
     food. It’s a subject I find particularly pertinent to the condition of the human race.’
    Neil nodded trying to hide his scepticism. This man saw nothing ridiculous or pretentious in the fact that he and his mates
     had chucked perfectly good food and furniture into a big trench.
    ‘It was my first piece of serious conceptual art since I’d left art college.’
    ‘You didn’t do it on your own?’
    ‘Three other artists took part. I have a photographic record if you want to see it.’
    ‘That might be useful.’ Neil tried to sound enthusiastic.
    ‘I intended to gather the same artists together again but two were busy with their own work and I’ve been unable to contact
     the third. However, I’ve enlisted the help of three other artists in the hope that their input will bring a new creativity
     to the project. It’s always been my intention to disinter the artwork one day and once you’ve uncovered it, I’ll take a cast
     which I shall entitle “The Decay of Mankind”.’
    Neil studied the man. If he’d left art college over sixteen years ago that meant he must be in his late thirties. Sometimes
     he gave the impression of being younger but Neil could see the hardness of experience in his eyes and he suspected that he
     was nobody’s fool. He also sensed an underlying tension as the artist spoke, as though something was preying on his mind and
     kept intruding. But whatever it was, it was no concern of his.
    All of a sudden he knew how to turn the situation to his advantage – or at least to the advantage of the archaeological community.
     He gave Orford a disarming smile. ‘I think this might be an interesting exercise for some post-grad students I know from the
     university who specialise in the scientific side of archaeology. It’ll be useful for them to see the effect of burial on different
     materials. I take it you’ve no objection to …’
    Orford considered the proposition for a while before replying. ‘As long as they’re willing to abide by my rules I have no
     objection. A few lads who worked at the holiday park next door helped to dig the original trench.’ Orfordpaused, his eyes fixed on the crumbling buildings beyond the fence. ‘It was still going strong when I was last here but it
     looks pretty derelict now.’
    ‘Yes. I presume you’ve got the necessary permission from the landowner. You can’t just go digging up land without getting
     the go ahead.’
    ‘I’ve had written permission from his son. His name’s Richard Catton and he seems to make all the decisions. He’s quite keen
     on the project. I remember he helped out sixteen years ago but he was just a kid then.’
    ‘Where does he live?’
    ‘Up at Catton Hall: an old, rambling place about a quarter of a mile away. This is all his land, including the holiday park.’
    ‘How old is the hall?’ Neil’s appetite was suddenly whetted by the mention of an historic pile.
    ‘How should I know?’ Orford said as though the conversation was starting to bore him. ‘Look, Dr Watson – or can I call you
     Neil?’
    ‘Neil’s fine.’
    ‘Before we begin, I want you and your colleagues to sign a confidentiality agreement. Anything you find or see while you’re
     engaged in