The Magna Carta Murders (The Ralph Chamers Mysteries Book 12) Page 6

  “I think that about wraps up what we needed to hash out, Ralph. The floor’s all yours. That is, if you wouldn’t mind answering a few of Ralph’s queries, Martha?”

  Ralph had prepared a list of questions and decided that it was best to plough straight in. He explained about his interest in the authenticity of the Magna Carta manuscripts.

  “Brendan can probably answer that better than I can,” said Martha, turning to her colleague.

  Brendan explained that authentication of a manuscript of any sort was difficult, but even more so for a document that was 800 years old. He pointed to one of the pictures that Ralph had been trying to decipher.

  “It’s a print, of course. But it illustrates some of the problems.”

  He went on to explain that the original Magna Carta manuscripts would have been written in a badly lit room by at least two dozen scribes.

  “Monks, more than likely, since they were among a handful of literate people at that time. Transcribing secular as well as religious documents was part of their job when they weren’t engaged in devotions or tending their vegetable gardens.”

  “As I understand it, there were a number of originals,” Ralph said. “With no copying machines or anything like that, how did they get them to be exactly the same?”

  “One person would read out what they had to write down. The monks had a style of abbreviating the Latin prose or using symbols to mark where they had left off the Latin endings. So although the content was fairly close to identical, there were small differences due to the size of the script and the number of words on the page. And of course there was even the occasional error. There would therefore be some discrepancies.”

  “It seems that would make it even more difficult to tell a fake from the original if, as you say, each of the originals in a set was written by a different person,” Ralph said.

  “That’s right. It requires a combination of skills as well as modern technology. For a start, you’d need a palaeographer, that’s an expert in ancient handwriting who was able to read the document with a degree of accuracy and then date and localize the hand-writing. With the Magna Carta, it’s such an important and well known document that it’s been studied by literally hundreds of scholars and handwriting experts. We’re familiar with the variations in handwriting styles and some errors that the monks who transcribed it made.”

  “It sounds awfully tedious and time-consuming work,” Ralph observed.

  “Yes. No doubt writing on sheepskin with a quill pen resulted in a lot of cramped hands,” Brendan said with what Ralph thought almost passed for a smile.

  “What about the King John’s signature?” Ralph asked. “Surely that would be easier to authenticate?”

  “Rumour has it that King John spoke French, but little or no Latin. So when people talk about ‘signing’, what they really mean is applying the Royal Seal. But that’s an academic point.”

  Ralph knew that he was dealing with sincere people who were passionate about their work He decided to ask the real question that was foremost in his mind.

  “How certain can you be that the manuscripts on show during the anniversary celebrations are genuine?”

  Brendon turned to Martha. “This is your area of responsibility, Martha.”

  “We get asked that question every time they go on exhibit. The authenticity of a document fascinates people. They seem unable to just enjoy the significance of the manuscript and what it stands for rather than, ‘is it the original and how much is it worth’. Of course it’s a concern that we all share.”

  “So is it possible to be a hundred per cent certain that they’re the genuine article?” Ralph realized that he was pushing his luck by his persistence; some of his students did the same thing with him, and he knew how annoying it could be.

  “To an observer, even an expert, at a showing or an exhibition, I’d say no. But to get past a professional audit it would be much more difficult. As Brendan pointed out, it would involve a palaeographer plus the use of the latest multi-spectral imaging equipment for us to be confident that it was genuine.”

  She went on to explain that there were only one or two people in the world who would have the skills to produce a fake that was undetectable without the use of modern imaging equipment. She explained that for a start, it would have to be on sheepskin, and that they could easily check it for age unless the counterfeiters had got hold of one that was from the period. She added that the inks would also have to be from the period, and that they generally used either cuttlefish dye or carbon and some form of oak or iron-gall.”

  She explained that they would also have to have access to an exact copy of the manuscript that they were attempting to fake.

  “You see, Professor, of the two we have here at the Library, one was badly damaged in a fire. So to fake that one would be impossible as the areas that were destroyed could never be replicated exactly. But the other one, although creased, is readable. It also assumes that whoever was engaged in such an enterprise is a crook. I can’t imagine that anyone with the level of expertise required to produce a top level fake would ever sell their craft for such an undertaking.”

  Ralph had a different view. He had come across people who were at the top of their profession because they were crooks. Money was a big, if not the biggest motivator. But he could see her point and just nodded.

  “Are there many people with that level of skill?” He asked. “Hypothetically speaking, of course”

  “Less than a handful. There was man at the British Museum who worked on paper conservation and I believe he taught palaeography. He moved to the Institute of Fine Art at New York University. But he must be in his late 70’s by now. And there was someone else who taught at Northumbria, but I heard that he’d retired over some sort of scandal, as rumour has it, but he must be getting on for 80 as well. The few people with the level of skill required to copy old manuscripts are dying off. The art schools and colleges try, but there are few jobs available and it takes years to acquire those skills.”

  Cynthia glanced at Ralph.

  “Look I’m sure that you’ve given Ralph a lot to think about, but we’ve used up a lot of your valuable time,” she started to get up.

  Martha Wilkes assured them that it had all been very enjoyable and that if they wanted to see the two Magna Cartas in the exhibition, they were welcome at any time. She jokingly suggested that after speaking with the Professor they would now have to go and check that theirs were genuine.

  It struck Ralph that it would be a real shock if they discovered they were not.

  Ralph treated Cynthia to lunch at a small Italian restaurant nearby. They talked about Cynthia and Lance’s plans to visit his home in New Zealand once the baby was old enough to travel and the preparations that were underway in their new home to convert one of the rooms into a nursery.

  They caught the stopper train to Surbiton. Cynthia got off at Wimbledon and wished him luck with his quest to deliver the contacts with the ABA that Granger wanted.

  ***

  Later that week Ralph made a few phone calls to follow up on what Martha Wilkes’ had told him. She was right about the professor at Northumbria. He was now retired and living in the London area, although he could not get hold of an address or phone number. A call to a friend at New York University initially drew a blank, but his contact there had called back and said that he had found a record of a Frank Dobson who had come over from the British Museum and had worked at the University for about five years, but that he had gotten a lung infection, either from the materials he used or the smog from the New York traffic, and had gone back to England. Brendan Ogilvy had also called Ralph at the College. He had found the name of a woman at the Louvre who did work on old manuscripts. But when Ralph contacted the Louvre, they told him that she had retired and was in a nursing home in Bordeaux.

  He thought that the man who had been at Northumbria and the man who went to America might be worth following up on, but was not optimistic. The chance that he had s
tumbled on the ‘faker’ after a just few phone calls was highly improbable. It looked as though his theory had run its course. He laughed at the absurdity of his vision of an old recluse in a garret, scratching away with a quill pen as he bent over a manuscript.

  _______________________

  Chapter 5

  Ralph had the afternoon free and Katie had driven down from Chelsea. After they had lunch at a small café, they strolled by the river in the afternoon sunshine and he told her about his visit to the British Library, and his theory about someone swapping a fake for one of the original manuscripts.

  “From what you tell me that the people at the British Library said, it seems to me that it would be virtually impossible for anyone to produce a fake, Ralph. Wouldn’t it be simpler to just to steal one of the later manuscripts that aren’t so heavily guarded? They’re still worth a lot.”

  “I agree, but this Mankovich seems to be hell-bent on getting hold of one of the originals. I think it started out as a game for him. Then when the American police arrested those men Stigart told me about, it became a race to get the manuscript and use it as a bargaining tool.”

  “But I thought you said that Stigart thought that was a crazy idea.”

  “He did at first,” Ralph admitted, “but in the end he agreed not to discount the idea altogether.”

  “You never give up, do you,” she said good-humouredly. “You’ve seen the manuscripts at the British Library and we know those are the genuine article. When we go with Peter and Marcia to Salisbury Cathedral you can talk to the people there. And if you still aren’t satisfied, we can go up to Lincoln Castle and look at that one as well. That should satisfy you that none of the originals have been swapped.” Ralph knew that he was no expert at medieval documents and that seeing them was unlikely to settle anything in his mind. But Katie was trying to be supportive, so he stopped himself contradicting her.

  They strolled on, but Ralph’s mind was still searching for some answers as they sat on a bench by the river and watched the swans.

  “They remind me of you, Ralph. Calm on the outside as they glide past, but under the surface they’re pedalling like mad.”

  “That’s it!” Ralph exclaimed. “Everyone’s attention was on the manuscripts when they were in London. I know mine was.”

  “What do you mean?” Katie asked.

  “Don’t you see? It’s the old conjurer’s trick: distract the audience while you do the switch.”

  “I’m not following.”

  “Mankovich distracted his audience while he somehow swapped the manuscripts before they even got to London.”

  “But that would mean that he would’ve had to have three fakes made. You said that the people at the British Library said that the fourth one was too damaged to replicate. And how could he get to them? You told me that the security was incredibly tight.”

  “I don’t know, unless the security firm were somehow in on it. Don’t forget, that man who was shot worked for T24, and they’re the outfit that did the security. Maybe they bungled it somehow, or maybe Mankovich had him silenced. From everything I know about him, he sounds like a right nasty piece of work.”

  “It all sounds too neat and tidy to me,” Katie said. “Are you sure you’re not just looking for a problem that fits your solution rather than the other way around. Besides, where’s your proof? That sort of thinking wouldn’t rate more than a D-minus if it came from one of our students.”

  “I have to speak to someone from that security firm,” Ralph said abruptly as he stood up.

  “Don’t forget, the police are conducting a murder enquiry, Ralph. Remember what happened in Devon when you interfered in police work. Why not just tell Stigart or face up to talking with that Commander Renton?”

  He knew she was right, but talking to Renton was not something he cared to contemplate. I just need a few more facts, he mused as they waved back to the people on a passing river steamer.

  ***

  Slough, set in an urban and industrial sprawl a few miles to the west of Heathrow Airport, was not high on Ralph’s list of favourite towns. Used as the location for the BBC comedy The Office; he thought that Betjeman had summed it up perfectly:

  ‘Come friendly bombs, and fall on Slough

  It isn’t fit for humans now

  There isn’t grass to graze a cow -----.

  It was an eclectic mixture of tall buildings, sporting their modern grey architecture, open parks, and the largest private industrial estate in Europe. That was where Ralph was headed. On several occasions he had played golf at nearby Stoke Poges, one of the locations for Goldfinger, but today he hoped that he would not run into the black coated ‘Oddjob’ and his steel rimmed bowler hat.

  Cynthia had grudgingly agreed that he could make enquiries about their courier services on behalf of the museum at Dorich House. He had phoned the marketing manager who had sounded more than happy to meet with a prospective client.

  Ralph waited in the modern glass and chrome reception area.

  “Jack Riley, welcome to T24,” said the tall sun-bronzed man who greeted him.

  Ralph was not sure what was worse, the shiny powder blue suit or the long pointed shoes. Add to that his gold tie with the T24 logo, and it was difficult to decide if he looked more like a nightclub compere or an East European crook; a pink shirt completed his somewhat bizarre attire.

  Jack beamed and gave Ralph a salesman’s firm handshake while he clasped Ralph’s upper arm with his other hand. He must have been watching the American Presidential campaign to have got that perfect, thought Ralph. Jack gave an expansive sweep of his arm before he led the way to a small conference room.

  “So, Professor Chalmers, you’re with Dorich House. We haven’t had the pleasure of doing work with you before, but I’m sure you’ll be more than satisfied with our service.”

  As Jack Riley poured some coffee for them both, Ralph had a twinge of conscience. The man was doing his best to get work for his company, and there he was under false pretences. Jack explained the way the firm worked and offered some brochures and a list of clients. As Ralph told him a bit about Dorich House and described some of its collections, he sensed that Jack saw through him and had him down as just another timewaster. Jack became more expansive as he explained how the firm followed strict procedures when it moved valuable property for its clients.

  “I saw your people at the Magna Carta unification event in London. That must have been quite some job,” Ralph commented.

  “It was all a bit tricky, but I think we did an excellent job there.” Riley said as he unfolded a diagram from a file that he picked up from one of the side tables.

  “We had to carry the manuscripts in special containers that were large enough for the wooden cases the manuscripts were housed in. They had to have electronic controllers with software that kept the documents at predetermined levels of both temperature and humidity.”

  “Sounds an expensive operation,” Ralph said.

  “Very.”

  “What would happen if someone had inadvertently opened one of them?”

  “That couldn’t happen. Once the documents were inside and the combination lock was set, that was it. We had the combination and so did the client and both of us had to be there to open it.”

  “What about when you returned them to their bases afterwards? Did you still have all of that security?”

  “Absolutely. When the exhibition was over the procedure was reversed to take them back to Lincoln, Salisbury and the Paccar Gallery at Euston. We performed our contract right down to the letter; our clients were very satisfied.”

  Ralph waited as Jack took a sip of his coffee.

  “I saw in the newspapers where one of your couriers was shot and killed by a mugger,” Ralph said. He knew that it must have sounded very blunt but he wanted to gage Jack’s reaction.

  “That was unfortunate,” Jack said guardedly. Ralph saw that he had hit a nerve.

  “Of course I didn’t know Frank that well; he
’d only been with that branch for about 6 months,” Jack went on. “Of course we cooperated fully with the police and they’re satisfied that the mugging was in no way connected to the business.”

  “Was this man who was killed involved in moving the manuscripts?” Ralph enquired casually.

  “He was one of the people we had on that job, but as I said, the mugging had nothing to do with his work for us.”

  “I’m sure you’re right,” Ralph said. “As I said, it was just something that caught my eye in the paper and I suppose coming here must have triggered it in my mind.”

  Jack looked relieved, but Ralph thought he had best move away from the incident and try to lower the tension.

  “So, did I understand you to say that your company makes those computer operated containers?” Ralph asked.

  “No, not ourselves,” Jack explained. “We subcontract anything like that to a firm down in Maidstone. But that’s not for ordinary shipments. As I said, the London event was special. Imperial College did the design. We try to tailor the method of transport to suit our client’s needs.”

  “Look,” Ralph said as he glanced at his watch. “I’ve taken a lot of your valuable time. Can I buy you some lunch?”

  “I’ve already arranged lunch with some of my colleagues, but thank-you for the offer,” Jack said as both men rose and shook hands.

  Ralph noticed that this time it was the garden variety gesture rather than the over the top glad-handing he had received on arrival. No doubt he sees me as a ‘no sale’ and has ‘bigger fish to fry’, thought Ralph.

  As he drove home, he heard a news broadcast warning that there were delays on tube services on the Northern Line into Euston station due to an incident. He could just imagine the chaos as the commuter rush hour approached.