Page 39 of The Berlin Agent (John Cook #2)

‘Look at the contour lines,’ I said. ‘The Forest is a number of peaks, each one with a clump of trees.’ I pointed to five high spots on the map, each surrounded by close-set red contour lines.

I used my pencil as a pointer, moving away from one of the high points, pointing to a succession of fainter red lines.

‘These lines show we’re going downhill from the peaks, but quite soon the ground levels out again. We end up with a plateau, lower than the peaks but higher than the -surrounding countryside. It’s like a tabletop, and the peaks are additional bumps on the table. The rest of Sussex is somewhere down below.’

I found the contour line I was looking for and traced it with the pencil. The wheezing man kept a close watch, making sure I didn’t mark his map. The contour line made a large shape, encompassing a fair portion of the Forest, with seemingly random inlets and extrusions.

‘This is the edge of the tabletop,’ I said. Anyone inside that edge has a pretty good view across the whole area. -Anyone outside that edge can’t see up onto the top. They’d see sky.’

I squatted down, my eyeline level with the table.

‘Look,’ I said. ‘When I’m above the level, I can see across the table.’

I lowered myself, so my eyes were below the table.

‘But now, I can’t see the top at all.’

I stood back, letting it sink in. Margaret crouched down and looked for herself. The wheezing man tried it, then stood back and looked at me as if I’d discovered the secret of the ages.

Whereas before there had been a random collection of houses with crosses and others without, now there was a clear explanation for why some had been emptied, and others had been left in peace. Every house with a marker was inside the contour line.

‘Hang on,’ Margaret said. ‘There’s one we don’t have a marker for.’

She pointed at a large house, big enough to merit a blocky black shape on the map, showing a large main building with two wings, and a collection of outbuildings. Hatched shading showed a collection of glasshouses. The estate sat on the northern edge of the Forest. It had an uninterrupted view of the area within the contour line.

‘Perhaps Gooch didn’t know about it,’ I said. ‘We should check.’

‘No need to check,’ the wheezing man said. ‘Everyone knows who lives there. Been in the same family for -generations.’

I looked at him expectantly. He was enjoying being the centre of attention.

‘I thought he was out in India,’ he said.

I had a sinking feeling. I looked at Margaret.

‘Vaughn Matheson?’ Margaret asked.

‘Lord Matheson to the likes of you and me,’ the wheezing man said. ‘Met him once at a village fête, a long time ago. Lovely chap.’