Выбрать главу

PENGUIN BOOKS

The Moon Tunnel

Praise for Jim Kelly

‘Kelly is fast gaining a reputation for his literate, atmospheric novels’ Daily Mail

‘A significant new talent’ Sunday Times

‘The sense of place is terrific: the fens really brood. Dryden, the central character, is satisfyingly complicated… a good, atmospheric read’ Observer

‘A masterful stylist, Kelly crafts sharp, crisp sentences so pure, so true, they qualify as modern poetry’ Publishing News

‘A sparkling star newly risen in the crime fiction firmament’ Colin Dexter

‘Superb… Kelly has produced another story rich in plot and character, with a bit of history as well’ Publishers Weekly

‘Kelly is clearly a name to watch… a compelling read’ Crime Time

‘Beautifully written… The climax is chilling. Sometimes a book takes up residence inside my head and just won’t leave. The Water Clock did just that’ Val McDermid

‘An atmospheric, intriguing mystery with a tense denouement’ Susanna Yager, Sunday Telegraph

‘Excellent no-frills thriller with a real bite. 4 stars’ FHM

‘A story that continuously quickens the pulse… makes every nerve tingle. The suspense here is tight and controlled and each character is made to count in a story that engulfs you while it unravels’ Punch

‘Kelly’s evocation of the bleak and watery landscapes provide a powerful backdrop to a wonderful cast of characters’ Good Book Guide

‘A thriller debut of genuine distinction. Kelly is a name to watch and this is a compelling read’ Crime Time

The Water Clock’s praise is well deserved… highly recommended’ Washington Post

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jim Kelly is a journalist. He lives in Ely with the biographer Midge Gillies and their young daughter. The Moon Tunnel is his third novel, following The Water Clock, which was short-listed for the CWA John Creasey Award 2002, and The Fire Baby, chosen by Booklist magazine as one of the top ten crime novels of 2003. His new novel, The Coldest Blood, is now available in hardback from Michael Joseph.

The Moon Tunnel

JIM KELLY

PENGUIN BOOKS

PENGUIN BOOKS

Published by the Penguin Group

Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario, Canada M4P 2Y3 (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

Penguin Ireland, 25 St Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd)

Penguin Books Australia Ltd, 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty Ltd)

Penguin Books India Pvt Ltd, 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi – 110 017, India

Penguin Group (NZ), cnr Airborne and Rosedale Roads, Albany, Auckland 1310, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd)

Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty) Ltd, 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa

Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

www.penguin.com

First published by Michael Joseph 2005

Published in Penguin Books 2006

6

Copyright © Jim Kelly, 2005

All rights reserved

The moral right of the author has been asserted

Except in the United States of America, this book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser

ISBN: 978-0-14-194524-8

For Rosa

Who taught me always to look for the moon

Acknowledgements

There is one cast of characters that should be introduced to the reader before Philip Dryden and the rest: the long list of those who have helped in the writing of The Moon Tunnel. The possibility of missing someone out restricts the list to the main players. Beverley Cousins, my editor, and Faith Evans, my agent, have continued to be a class double act. Trevor Horwood, my copy-editor, was as eagle-eyed as any author could wish.

Special thanks go to David Palmer for introducing me to the nuances of the auction room and the work of Richard Dadd. Gloria and Jason Street gave valuable advice on Italian names. James Macleod and his family showed me round Harperley PoW Camp, County Durham, and I wish them well in their battle to preserve this historic monument. Inspiration also came from Leslie Oakey’s pamphlet ‘Ely Goes To War’. I must also thank Bill Amos, Reader in Evolutionary Genetics at Cambridge University’s Department of Zoology, for advice on the plausibility of using DNA analysis of bones to pin-point individuals. I am again grateful to the help provided by the Royal Hospital for Neuro-disability at Putney, London, and happy to point out that donations can be made via www.rhn.org.uk Jenny Burgoyne cast an expert eye over both the manuscript and the proofs. Lastly, I must thank my wife Midge Gillies. She has got me out of so many plot jams by clear-headed intervention that I am in danger of taking her for granted.

One of the problems of living, and writing, in a city the size of a small town in the middle of nowhere is that everyone seems convinced the stories of Philip Dryden are somehow based in fact. They are not. If anyone recognizes themselves in The Moon Tunnel they are being more creative than I. All the characters – especially those descended from the prisoners once held in Ely’s PoW camp – are entirely fictitious. And a note on geography: I hope all those who love the Fens recognize the landscape, but I have played freely with place names and topography in order to help the plot and enrich the language.

The man in the moon tunnel stops and listens to the night above, shivering despite the sweat which trickles into his ears, making the drums flutter like the beat of pigeons’ wings. He stops crawling forward, bringing relief to the agony in his elbows and knees, and places his torch ahead, resting his forehead on his hands, shielding his face from the damp clay floor. The ring on his finger glitters by his eye and he thinks of her, feels her skin and traces, in his imagination, the S-curve of her waist and thigh. He holds the image like a talisman, pushing back the panic which makes him choke, feeling the mass of the suffocating earth above his head. His heartbeat fills the narrow space and he tries to conjure up the image of the sky above.

At that moment, as he lies paralysed below, the shadow of the night cloud begins to drift across the moon. Over the Fens life freezes as the shadow falls on the land, bringing darkness to the soaking fields and the silent river. Rats float with the sluggish stream on the Forty Foot; and pike in the Old West, moonbathing, slip to the safety of the banks. Eels, thrashing through the long grass to forage on the rotting carcass of a sheep, turn instantly to stone. Finally, the newly shrouded moon is gone, and the world below lies still and waiting.