The man was dead all right. His throat had been cut, but surely not with the jagged flint clutched in his right hand? He lay on a stone table slab in the ruins of a twelfth-century priory. That once hallowed place had recently become of major significance to a group of scholars in nearby Cambridge. The site was also the midnight meeting-place of the Satanists, whose nocturnal rituals included sacrifice and sexual orgies.
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