Bryant & May on the Loose: A Peculiar Crimes Unit Mystery Page 0,57

turn in the conversation, and went off to annoy the grave digger.

‘This must be one of the most underrated sites of theological importance in the whole of Great Britain,’ Potterton continued. ‘Not only did the Emperor Constantine found the oldest church in London here; it was the last place in the country where Catholic Mass was spoken before the Reformation.’

‘So you have a tangle of paganism, Catholicism and Christianity leaving a trail of spectral figures through the forest, and even though you cut down all the trees and erect factories and office buildings, the ghosts of the past continue to resurface,’ said Bryant, pleased at the thought.

‘Oh, the diocese is very aware of its religious heritage. That’s why the place has been cleaned up. A couple of months ago they employed an archivist to supervise a dig in the vault—Dr Leonid Kareshi, he consults at the Hermitage in St Petersburg and is very highly thought of. Would you like to see what he’s found?’

The church was dark, and smelled of damp and disuse. The greenish light gave it the impression of being underwater, but the calm was spoiled by a wonky recording of a choir singing ‘Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring’ slightly too loudly from speakers above the pews. At the rear of the building, a stairwell led underneath the floor to a small domed area that was formerly part of the crypt. Bryant followed Potterton, carefully picking his way between dislodged piles of bricks. He arrived at a ragged hole in the end wall, around which a rickety trio of arc lights had been erected. A broad-bodied man was bent over a trestle table, and turned to face them. He looked more like a Russian gangster than an archivist. Leonid Kareshi was not a man you’d pick a fight with.

‘I am happy to make your acquaintance.’ Kareshi made no attempt to shake Bryant’s proffered hand. He had a thick Slavic accent.

‘Mr Bryant knows a lot about London,’ Potterton explained. ‘Perhaps he can help you.’

‘You have good knowledge of this city?’ Kareshi raised a thick eyebrow.

‘Oh, he’s been here since it was founded,’ Potterton joked, but Kareshi did not laugh.

‘I have been trying to discover more about the sacred sites of King’s Cross and Pentonville, but there is very little reliable reading material available on the subject. These names—Brill, Somers Town, Euston, Agar Town, Pentonville, so many names for one tiny area—it is confusing,’ the archivist said.

‘Well, Pentonville was founded in the mid-1770s on the estate of a Member of Parliament called Henry Penton,’ said Bryant. ‘It’s as simple as that.’

‘Not so simple, I think. His name has a meaning, no? Mr Potterton tells me that the Penton was at the—how you say—peak?—of Pentonville Road, but nobody knows exactly what it was.’

‘Actually, I can help you there.’ Bryant was pleased to be able to put his arcane knowledge to use. ‘A penton was a head. I mean, a kind of round hill in the shape of a human head, probably designed to point to the sunrise. At least, that’s the theory.’

‘A sacred stone.’

‘That’s right. Pen is a Celtic word meaning high point. We get the word pinnacle from it, and penny, so named because the coin has a head on it.’

‘Then you should see this,’ said Potterton. ‘Mr Kareshi uncovered it a few days ago, and the diocese is in a bit of a quandary about reporting the find. I think our reverend feels very uncomfortable about the building’s pagan origins. The building is on the heritage register and can’t be disassembled, but there’s clearly something of major historical importance under here. If it predates the Christian site, it’s been buried for more than two thousand years.’ Potterton stepped back from the excavation, allowing the lamplight in.

Bryant peered into the hole. He found himself looking at an elongated chunk of pockmarked grey granite. ‘What is this?’ he asked.

‘I know it’s difficult to see clearly. Let me adjust the lights.’ Kareshi moved the tripods closer. ‘How is that?’

The elderly detective could just make out a pair of eye sockets, an aquiline nose, the partial line of a jaw.

‘There is no more of him. I mean, we have not found it attached to a body,’ said Kareshi.

‘This part was just inside the wall?’

‘Yes, but there is another, from the main chamber. Come and see.’ Kareshi led the way through panels of dusty plastic sheeting, into a wider hole of fractured brickwork. ‘There was a spa here that connected to the well behind