Arnold Landon

Rampton Farm, Northumberland, has always been a gloomy, godforsaken place. Now it’s earmarked for demolition—to make way for just another tawdry amusement park. It will be progress, and nothing can stand in the way—except perhaps Arnold Landon, the Planning Officer who must glean the lie of the land.

Arnold Landon can’t help but feel drawn to Oldham Manor, an atmospheric medieval house in the middle of nowhere. When he is invited to catalogue the library there, he jumps at the chance. The place is a maze of musty old papers and books. And that’s not all. Late one night, he stumbles on a secret passage, twisting deep under the ground. Where will it take him? And why was it walled up? When a stranger turns up dead in a ditch, Landon begins to realize that someone is watching his every move. And they have a plan to ensure the past stays buried for good.

Arnold Landon finds himself drawn into another bitter dispute over land—in which a defenseless old woman pays the ultimate price. To the casual observer, Penbrook Farm might seem like a ramshackle hovel, buried deep in the woods of Northumberland. But to fragile old Sarah Ellis, it’s home. And the developers can have the place over her dead body. Of course, no one ever expected it to come to that.

A haughty professor comes calling on Arnold Landon for research assistance. But he’s overlooked an important fact. Landon already has a job at the council—along with a raft of superiors who’d rather he focused on the dispute at hand. Namely, who is the rightful owner of the Kilgour Estates? And the opulent manor house in the grounds? Dashing rake Patrick Yates insists it’s all his. But a black sheep in the family returns to claim otherwise. Who is telling the truth?

St Michael’s Church may be derelict but it’s not deserted. Someone still comes here to worship on nights when the moon is full. Arnold Landon should know. He’s seen the grisly evidence for himself. Blood among the roses. The butchered remains of a man, tangled in the undergrowth. The victim was a traveler. How did he come to be in the churchyard? Arnold has a theory that leads back centuries, all the way to the cult of the Raging Wolf. Everyone tells him it’s impossible, that the cultists are dead and buried. But the devil wears many faces.

Andrews is found dead in his own living room. His head blown to bloody smithereens. Who will finish what the dead man started? The publisher turns to Arnold Landon. And why wouldn’t he pick up the mantle? Everyone tells him it’s safe. The police have their man for Andrews’ killing. But the closer Landon gets to Andrews’ checkered past, the less certain he becomes. Could the true killer be out there still? Watching, waiting for his chance to strike again …

Late one night, Lynne Anderson reveals to her lover that she has something to tell him. And it’s not just pillow talk. But before she can spill her shocking secrets, a shooter silences her and her lover for ever. Meanwhile, her husband Kevin Anderson has disappeared, leaving behind only a partial report on the ancient tower houses he and Arnold Landon are reviewing. Arnold is left trying to puzzle out Kevin’s skimpy notes. But the deeper he gets the more he fears for his missing coworker.

Arnold Landon steps out with his lady friend, hunting for relics on the deserted dig site where he works. Before long, they stumble on something under a bridge. The mangled remains of Arnold’s fellow historian. His chest gapes open, his insides arranged in a pair of bloody wings. Arnold’s no expert, but he knows a blood eagle when he sees one—the handiwork of a berserker warrior. Mad with blood lust and out for vengeance.

Colin Bannock is hiding quite the secret. By day, he’s a smooth-talking lawyer. After hours, he is someone else entirely. He corners Arnold Landon, wanting him to join his society of history fanatics. Appalled, Arnold declines outright. He’s never been a joiner and, besides, he has enough on his plate already. He is hunting for a lost and ancient treasure. And he knows the hiding place is close. Then Bannock’s body washes up on the banks of the River Tyne, battered and bloated beyond recognition. Was he also chasing the mythic treasure?

From the moment Karen Stannard comes striding in the door, Arnold Landon knows his workplace will never be the same. Now, he is saddled with a project he never wanted: the Ridgeway Viking Trust. Its shady leaders tell him there’s treasure buried in the rolling Northumberland Hills—they just need one more payout to reach it. But is there more to the Trust than meets the eye? Muck-raking journalist Alan Crickley seems to think so. He’s got the scent of corruption and he’s on the trail... Until the day he drives his car into a ditch, a stone’s throw from the dig.

A skeleton buried on a lonely Northumberland hill? Nothing wrong with that. Garrigill was once an ancient burial ground. Archaeologist Rena Williams is here to excavate the site. She is an old friend of Arnold’s. And with his help, her team have uncovered more than a few old bones already. But never like this. The bludgeoned skull, the modern dental work…nothing about this death feels accidental. Or even all that old. Who was the dead man, and what did he know that was worth killing for?