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The Wood Beyond
Reginald Hill

вЂ?HillвЂ™s wit is the constant, ironic foil to his vision, and to call this a mere crime novel is to say Everest is a nice little hillвЂ™ Frances Hegarty, Mail on SundayWhen animal-rights activists uncover a long-dead uniformed body in the grounds of Wanwood House, a research facility, Dalziel is presented with a seemingly insoluble mystery. And he is further perplexed when heвЂ™s attracted to one of the campaigners вЂ“ now implicated in a murderous assault.Meanwhile, the death of his grandmother has led Peter Pascoe to the battlefields of World War 1 and the enigma of who his grandfather was вЂ“ and why he had to die.

REGINALD HILL

THE WOOD BEYOND

A Dalziel and Pascoe novel

COPYRIGHT (#uca644583-6410-5fab-b00f-e2d9704fd38c)

Harper An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF

First published in Great Britain in 1996 by HarperCollinsPublishers

www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)

Copyright Г‚В© Reginald Hill 1996

Reginald Hill asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the authorГўВЂВ™s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

HarperCollinsPublishers has made every reasonable effort to ensure that any picture content and written content in this ebook has been included or removed in accordance with the contractual and technological constraints in operation at the time of publication.

Source ISBN: 9780007313167

Ebook Edition Г‚В© JULY 2015 ISBN 9780007386772 Version: 2015-06-22

EPIGRAPH (#ulink_94f4fb91-734c-55f0-b5e6-e7d25f9922aa)

And what may I deem now, but that this is a land of mere lies, & that there is nought real and alive therein save me. Yea, belike even these trees & the green grass will presently depart from me, & leave me falling down through the clouds.

WILLIAM MORRIS, The Wood Beyond the World

No evidence was found to lead us ГўВЂВ¦ to think that the convictions were unsound or that the accused were treated unfairly ГўВЂВ¦ we cannot rewrite history by substituting our latter-day judgement for that of contemporaries ГўВЂВ¦

JOHN MAJOR, Response (Feb 1993) to request to reconsider cases of British soldiers executed during WW1

si canimus silvas, silvae sint consule dignae

(#ulink_6628fb8f-df84-50bb-9032-dd1641d0dc8b).

VIRGIL, Eclogue IV

* (#ulink_d69fe0c1-5242-5e56-9019-db884e78fbd6) If we must sing of woods, let them be woods that are worthy of a prime minister

CONTENTS

Cover (#ufe41da58-2e44-5970-9ef8-f5d05281febe)

Title Page (#u11fb36f7-5107-5cac-ae96-23814105e2b9)

Copyright

Epigraph (#uf3deb213-746a-5292-b928-9bd12b120f6a)

Prologue

Part One: Sanctuary

i (#ulink_ee937169-23fc-5caa-b20b-2dcb34fc906d)

ii (#ulink_9ab0f171-53f3-59a7-b2fb-ec33b52e102e)

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Part Two: Glencorse

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Part Three: Polygon

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Part Four: Wanwood

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Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

AuthorГўВЂВ™s Note (#litres_trial_promo)

Keep Reading

About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)

By Reginald Hill (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

PROLOGUE (#uca644583-6410-5fab-b00f-e2d9704fd38c)

Monday morning, start of a new week, air bright as ice in a crystal glass, brandy-gold sun pouring from delft-blue sky, the old bracken glowing on the rolling moors, the trees still pied with their unblasted leaves, the pastures still green with their unmuddied grass, as October runs into November and thinks itГўВЂВ™s September still.

Edgar Wield drove slowly out of Enscombe, slowly because on mornings like this what you were driving through was far more important than where you were driving to, and also because during the short time heГўВЂВ™d been living in the village heГўВЂВ™d learned that only a fool assumed that the narrow roads ran clear further than the next bend.

His caution was rewarded when he eased round a corner and found George Creed shepherding the stragglers of a flock of sheep through a gate into a field set up with holding pens. The sight made him smile at the echo of his first sighting of Creed doing much the same task on this very road. Since then theyГўВЂВ™d become both neighbours and friends.

ГўВЂВ?ГўВЂВ™Morning, George, fine-looking beasts,ГўВЂВ™ he called through his open window.

Domicile entitled him to this pretension of expertise, though he wasnГўВЂВ™t altogether sure whether the term beasts could legitimately be applied to sheep as well as cattle.

ГўВЂВ?ГўВЂВ™Morning, Edgar,ГўВЂВ™ said Creed. ГўВЂВ?Happen theyГўВЂВ™ll do. Sounds daft, but IГўВЂВ™ll be sorry to see them go.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?TheyГўВЂВ™re off then?ГўВЂВ™ said Wield now taking in the significance of the pens.

ГўВЂВ?Aye, folk have got to eat, thatГўВЂВ™s what farmingГўВЂВ™s all about. But the older I get, the more it bothers me, selling off what IГўВЂВ™ve bred up. DonГўВЂВ™t be saying owt of this down in the Morris else theyГўВЂВ™ll be thinking IГўВЂВ™m going soft in the head!ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Which market are you taking them to?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?No market. IГўВЂВ™ve always dealt man and boy with HaigГўВЂВ™s of Wharfedale. They give me top price ГўВЂВ™cos they know my stock, and I sell them my stock ГўВЂВ™cos I know theyГўВЂВ™ll see them right. So watch out for their wagon on your way into town. Take up most of the road them things.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?IГўВЂВ™ll be careful,ГўВЂВ™ said Wield. ГўВЂВ?No hurry on a morning like this. IГўВЂВ™d as lief be staying here to give you a hand if youГўВЂВ™d have me.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?IГўВЂВ™m always willing to set on a likely lad,ГўВЂВ™ laughed Creed. ГўВЂВ?But I think youГўВЂВ™d be wanting your cards afore the end of the day.ГўВЂВ™

He glanced upwards as he spoke and Wield followed his gaze into the unflawed bowl of blue sky.

ГўВЂВ?YouГўВЂВ™re never saying itГўВЂВ™s on the turn, are you?ГўВЂВ™ he asked sceptically. ГўВЂВ?Looks set for another month to me.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Nay, itГўВЂВ™ll spoil itself by tea time, and make a right job of it too.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?You reckon? Well, even if it does, youГўВЂВ™re better off here than where IГўВЂВ™m going. Wet, dry, hail or shine, thereГўВЂВ™s no place like Enscombe. See you, George.ГўВЂВ™

He engaged the clutch and continued his leisurely progress down the valley road which aped the twists and turns of the River Een as though it were of the same ancient natural birth. A couple of miles further on he saw the juggernaut of the livestock transporter coming towards him and pulled off the road into a small piece of woodland to let it past. The driver blew his horn in appreciation and Wield waved as the huge truck with its legend D. HAIG & CO Livestock Wholesalers rumbled by.

When it was past and out of sight, he continued to sit for a while, enjoying the cool breeze through the open window and the way the amber sunlight scintillaГўВЂВ™d through the trembling branches. He had the feeling that if he got out of his car and strolled off into the wood, he could keep going forever with nothing changing, no ageing, no hunger, no cold, no crime, no war ГўВЂВ¦

And certainly no rain!

Yes, that was one thing he was certain of. He was a great respecter of the rustic eye, but towns had weather too and Detective Sergeant Wield of Mid-Yorkshire CID wasnГўВЂВ™t often caught without his umbrella. No, this time George had got it wrong. This Indian summer had a lot of wear in it yet. He couldnГўВЂВ™t see any end to it himself. And what you couldnГўВЂВ™t see the end of, surely that must be forever?

part oneSANCTUARY (#uca644583-6410-5fab-b00f-e2d9704fd38c)

The wanton Troopers riding by

Have shot my Faun and it will dye.

i (#ulink_abf13b77-9ddf-54d2-a5c8-30b79a44f89b)

Dear Mrs Pascoe

I do not know if Peter ever mentioned to you that I was his superior officer for some time. Indeed one of my last acts before I was invalided out was to confirm his promotion to sergeant. You may therefore understand with what dismay I received the tragic news of his death, and I wanted to write to you at once to say that in my opinion he was one of the finest men I had the privilege to command, and in no way does the manner of his death divert me from that judgment.

I realize that at a time like this you will scarcely feel able to look ahead, but with a young daughter to bring up, the future and its problems will all too soon demand attention. Recognizing that you may have needs which are pressing and immediate, I beg you to accept the accompanying small initial contribution and my assurance that as soon as the opportunity arises I shall take steps to ensure you and your child are cared for as Peter would have wished.

Meanwhile I remain yours in deepest sympathy,

Herbert Antony Grindal

ii (#ulink_e73da10e-3b91-5974-9e6c-9c4d5b535a71)

Is this thing working? Right. Here we go. Here we go, here we go ГўВЂВ¦ sorry. Just testing. OK, from the start. Getting into the wood were easy. Out of the ditch, over the top, and there we were. Mind you, it were like jumping into a raging sea. Wind howling, everything shaking and creaking and groaning like the whole bloody issue was alive, and so much stuff flying around you were in danger of getting your head took off. But we pressed on regardless, taking our direction from the glow up ahead. Even when you canГўВЂВ™t see your hand before your face, thereГўВЂВ™s always that glow.

Then at the edge of the trees we hit wire, and we paused here to get our breath and count heads.

We were all present and correct, the whole eight of us, and Cap started in on the wire. YouГўВЂВ™ll have met the Captain? Useless with the cutters but wonГўВЂВ™t let anyone else have them. Sort of badge of office. Eventually there was a hole of sorts and we started through. Jacksie ГўВЂВ“ thatГўВЂВ™s Jacklin, the well-made one ГўВЂВ“ got snagged and swore. Cap said, ГўВЂВ?Keep it down,ГўВЂВ™ like someone might hear in all that din, and Jacksie said, ГўВЂВ?If I could keep it down, I wouldnГўВЂВ™t have got it stuck,ГўВЂВ™ and a couple of us got the giggles. ItГўВЂВ™s easy done when youГўВЂВ™re shit scared. Not that it mattered or Jacksie swearing either. Like I said, it were pissing with rain and blowing a gale, and you would have needed a lot more than a giggle to get noticed.

Then we were all through and the laughing stopped.

ThereГўВЂВ™s nowt to laugh at out there. ItГўВЂВ™s a wasteland. Used to be trees but after the big raid last summer, they blew them all to hell, roots and all, and when it rains for a week, like itГўВЂВ™s been doing, the holes all fill with water and the ground gets so clarty, you can feel it sucking you down. Smells too. DonГўВЂВ™t know why it should. It were once good mixed woodland like whatГўВЂВ™s still there. But now it stinks like a ploughed-up boneyard.

Someone ГўВЂВ“ donГўВЂВ™t know who ГўВЂВ“ said, ГўВЂВ?This is bloody stupid. We should head back.ГўВЂВ™ Seconded, I thought. But I kept my trap shut ГўВЂВ™cos if thereГўВЂВ™s one thing guaranteed to make Cap head east, itГўВЂВ™s hearing me speak up for west. I shouldГўВЂВ™ve known better than to try diplomacy. It never works. Might as well start scrapping right off and get it over with. Cap just glowered at me as if it had been me mouthing off, and said, ГўВЂВ?Follow me. Keep close.ГўВЂВ™ And we were off, no pretence of a discussion. Whatever happened to universal suffrage?

God, it were hard going. Two steps forward, one back, and as for keeping close, with that rain coming down and the mist coming up, it was all you could do to see where your next step were going to land, let alone keep an eye on anybody else. So it came as no surprise when somewhere over to the left I heard a splash and yell and a voice crying ГўВЂВ?Oh shit!ГўВЂВ™ all spluttery. Someone had gone into a crater. My money was on Jacksie, but I didnГўВЂВ™t waste time speculating. Even someone a lot better coordinated could drown in one of them holes as easy as the middle of the Atlantic. So I headed for the noise like everybody else. Only I mustГўВЂВ™ve been a bit more headstrong than the rest ГўВЂВ™cos when I got there, I didnГўВЂВ™t stop but slid right over the edge, and next thing, I were down the bleeding hole too!

For a while I thought I were going to drown, but once I got the right way up and persuaded Jacksie ГўВЂВ“ IГўВЂВ™d been right about that ГўВЂВ“ to stop grabbing my hair, I realized there were only two or three feet of water down there, which was fine so long as you didnГўВЂВ™t lose your footing. The real problem was how to get out, ГўВЂВ™cos the walls started sloshing and crumbling every time you tried to get a hold on them.

Cap and the others had arrived by now and were reaching down to grab us. They got Jacksie first and I pushed like mad and got nowt but a faceful of boot for my pains. But eventually the useless bugger got hauled out and it were my turn. I reached up and felt someone get a hold of my right hand, I couldnГўВЂВ™t see who, my eyes were so full of mud and water, and I thrashed around with my left till finally I found another hand to get hold of. Then, kicking my toes into the side, I started to haul myself out.

I soon caught on I were getting a lot of help with my right hand ГўВЂВ“ turned out to be Cap who were doing the pulling ГўВЂВ“ but nowt at all with my left. But before I could start wondering why, my feet slipped out of the hole IГўВЂВ™d kicked in the side of the crater and my hand slipped out of CapГўВЂВ™s, and I started to slide back in, putting all my weight on whoever had got a hold of my left hand.

And it just came away, the hand I was holding on to I mean. And I slid right back down into that filthy water with my fingers still grasped tight around that thing, or like it seemed then, with that thingГўВЂВ™s fingers still grasped tight round mine, and I started to scream, and some on the others started to scream too, and eventually even them buggers in the green uniforms started taking notice, and next thing there was a whole platoon of them all around us shouting and shoving and thatГўВЂВ™s how we ended up getting captured. Me ciggies are all sodden. YouГўВЂВ™ve not got a dry one, have you?

iii (#ulink_63643e25-0bb3-5907-9898-a130a553388f)

Families are a fuck-up, thought Peter Pascoe.

Otherwise, how come he was standing here in a crematorium chapel with all the inspirational ambience of a McDonaldГўВЂВ™s though without, thank God, the attendant grilled burger odours, being glared at by his sister, Myra, and squinted at by a bunch of geriatric myopes, as he attempted an extempore exordium of a grandmother he hadnГўВЂВ™t seen for nearly two years?

ГўВЂВ?Hello. IГўВЂВ™m Peter Pascoe and Ada was my grandmother and IГўВЂВ™m doing this because ГўВЂВ¦ГўВЂВ™

Because when heГўВЂВ™d arrived and discovered Myra had ordered a full-fig C of E service right down to ГўВЂВ?Abide With MeГўВЂВ™, his guilt had vaulted him onto a high horse and heГўВЂВ™d gone through the arrangements like Jesus through the money changers, till at his moment of triumph Myra had brought him crashing to earth with the question, ГўВЂВ?OK, smartarse, just what are you going to do?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?ГўВЂВ¦ because as you probably know, Ada didnГўВЂВ™t reckon much to organized religion. She always said that when she died the last thing she wanted was a funeral-chasing parson droning on about her unlikely virtues. So IГўВЂВ™m doing it instead ГўВЂВ¦ not droning on, I hope ГўВЂВ¦ and not unlikely ГўВЂВ¦ anyway, IГўВЂВ™m doing it.ГўВЂВ™

And a right cockup youГўВЂВ™re making of it too. He could see MyraГўВЂВ™s fury moderating into malicious pleasure. If only thereГўВЂВ™d been time to make a few notes. Only a fool relied on divine inspiration when heГўВЂВ™d just dumped God!

ГўВЂВ?Well IГўВЂВ™m not going to make a lot of notes ГўВЂВ¦ I mean, fuss, because Ada hated fuss. But equally IГўВЂВ™m not going to let the passing of this remarkable old lady pass un ГўВЂВ¦ er ГўВЂВ¦ remarked.ГўВЂВ™

This got worse! Pull yourself together. If you can brief a bunch of CID cynics and pissed-off plods, no need to be fazed by a pewful of wrinklies. What was Myra rolling her eyeballs at? DoesnГўВЂВ™t she know a dramatic pause when she hears one?

ГўВЂВ?Ada was born in Yorkshire though she didnГўВЂВ™t stay there long. The event which changed her life, changed all our lives, come to think of it, was the Great War. So many died ГўВЂВ¦ millions ГўВЂВ¦ numbers too large to register. One of them was AdaГўВЂВ™s father, my great-grandfather. After she got the news, my great-grandmother took her three-year-old daughter and headed down here to Warwickshire. IГўВЂВ™ve no details of how they lived. I only discovered the Yorkshire connection because I was a nosy kid. Ada wasnГўВЂВ™t one to go on about the past, maybe because there was too much pain in it for her. But I can guess that one-parent families had it even tougher in those days than they do now. Anyway here they came and here they stayed. This was where Ada grew up and in her turn got married. And in her turn she had a child. And in her turn she saw her husband, my grandfather Colin Pascoe, go off to the wars.

ГўВЂВ?Did she know as she said goodbye that in her turn she too was never going to see him again? Who knows? But I think she knew. Oh yes. IГўВЂВ™m sure she knew.ГўВЂВ™

That had them. Even Myra was looking rapt.

ГўВЂВ?The child they had was, of course, Peter, my father. Naturally he wishes he could be here today. But as you probably know when he took early retirement a few years back, he decided to follow my eldest sister, Susan, and her family out to Australia, and unfortunately urgent commitments have prevented any of them from making the long journey. But IГўВЂВ™m sure we will be very much in their thoughts at this sad time.ГўВЂВ™

He caught MyraГўВЂВ™s eye and looked away, but not before theyГўВЂВ™d shared their awareness that any thoughts turning their way in that antipodean night would probably need the attention of an oneiromantist.

ГўВЂВ?So in 1942 Ada got the same news from North Africa that in 1917 her mother had got from Flanders. Another young widow. Another fatherless child. No wonder she hated uniforms and wars and anything which seemed to be celebrating them. She could never look at an Armistice Day poppy without feeling physically sick, and one of her last cogent acts was to rebuke a British Legion volunteer who came round the ward selling them.ГўВЂВ™

Rebuke? What sheГўВЂВ™d actually said according to Myra was, ГўВЂВ?Sod off, ghoul.ГўВЂВ™ Which message it might appear he was passing on to this well-poppied congregation. Ah well. You canГўВЂВ™t please all of the people all of the time.

ГўВЂВ?But Ada did not let the past destroy her present. She joined one of the accelerated teacher training courses after the war and despite her late start, she climbed high, finishing as Head of Redstones Junior which I myself had the privilege of attending. As you can imagine, having your gran as head teacher was a mixed blessing. Certainly in school I got no favours, just a first-class education. But outside, I got all the love and indulgence a growing boy is entitled to expect from his gran.ГўВЂВ™

He caught MyraГўВЂВ™s eye again and read the message clearly. Favourite! So what? Boy with two bossy elder sisters needed an edge somewhere. Another eye was catching his, the crem. superГўВЂВ™s, reminding him of his warning that despite the nanny state, dank Novembers still meant frequent hearses and any overrun could quickly blacken up the bypass. Time to wrap it up. Pity. He just felt he was getting into his stride.

ГўВЂВ?Even after retirement, she remained at the centre of things, as a school governor, a member of innumerable committees, and a tireless campaigner in the corridors of power and on the pavements of protest.ГўВЂВ™

Now he was really motoring! Great phrase, that was. Even though getting the rhythm right meant a solecistic drift from the nounal trochee to the verbal iamb. How old Ada would have rapped his knuckles. The crem. super too looked close to physical violence. Big finish!

ГўВЂВ?I doubt if she went gentle into her good night, but gone she has, and the world is a sadder place for her going. But she left it a better place than she found it, and that would have been the only epitaph she wished.ГўВЂВ™

Big finish nothing. Big cop-out was more like it. Ada had had no illusions about progress. Watching the telly peepshow of famine and disaster and war, she used to rage, ГўВЂВ?TheyГўВЂВ™ve learned nothing. Absolutely nothing!ГўВЂВ™ Oh well. At least heГўВЂВ™d taken his poppy out.

Time for the final music. Myra had gone for ElgarГўВЂВ™s Enigma which to AdaГўВЂВ™s tin ear probably sounded like bovine eructation. The crem.ГўВЂВ™s alternatives were all just as classically solemn. Then Pascoe had recalled the one time Ada ever talked about her father, the day he found the photo in the secretaire, and heГўВЂВ™d rummaged through the tapes in his car and come up with Scott Joplin. He saw the shock on MyraГўВЂВ™s face as ГўВЂВ?The Strenuous LifeГўВЂВ™ came floating out of the speakers. HeГўВЂВ™d explain later, sharing his secret knowledge that AdaГўВЂВ™s sole recollection of her father ГўВЂВ“ indeed her first recollection of anything ГўВЂВ“ had been of a shadowy figure sitting at an upright piano picking out a ragtime melody.

So the circle closes ГўВЂВ¦ so the circle closes.

iv (#ulink_77694f40-4839-5796-a22d-d72eb597ec06)

ГўВЂВ?At his grandmotherГўВЂВ™s funeral?ГўВЂВ™ said Detective Superintendent Andy Dalziel. ГўВЂВ?YouГўВЂВ™d think a bugger wiГўВЂВ™ letters after his name could come up with a better excuse than that.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?He did tell you about it, sir,ГўВЂВ™ said Sergeant Wield, shouting to make himself heard above the lashing rain.

Dalziel viewed him gloomily through the bespattered car window which heГўВЂВ™d lowered by half an inch in the interests of more efficient communication. He was not a man totally insensitive to the comforts of his inferiors, but the sergeant was swathed in oilskins and the Fat Man could see no reason why the torrents niagaraing around their folds should be diverted to his vehicleГўВЂВ™s upholstery.

ГўВЂВ?Aye and my gran told me not to mess around wiГўВЂВ™ mucky women and I paid no heed to her either,ГўВЂВ™ he said. ГўВЂВ?Still, last time he were here, he wasnГўВЂВ™t much use, was he? OK, lad. LetГўВЂВ™s have it. WhatГўВЂВ™ve we got?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Remains, sir.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Man? Woman? Child? Dog? Politician?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Remains to be seen,ГўВЂВ™ said Wield.

Dalziel groaned and said, ГўВЂВ?I hope youГўВЂВ™re not letting happiness turn you humorous, Wieldy. YouГўВЂВ™ve not got the face for it and IГўВЂВ™m not in the mood. I were driving home to a warm bed when I were silly enough to switch me radio on and pick up the tail end of this shout. All Control could tell me was there was a body and there was a bunch of animal libbers and it was out at Wanwood. So is this another Redcar or what?ГўВЂВ™

Six months earlier in May thereГўВЂВ™d been an animal rights raid on the laboratories of Fraser Greenleaf, the international pharmaceutical conglomerate, located near Redcar on the North Yorkshire coast. As well as releasing the experimental animals, the raiders had vandalized the premises and, most seriously of all, left security officer Mark Shufflebottom, father of two, lying dead with severe wounds to the head. Several weeks later thereГўВЂВ™d been another raid, bearing all the hallmarks of the same group, on the research labs of ALBA Pharmaceuticals located on Mid-Yorks territory in a converted mansion called Wanwood House. Happily this time no one had been injured. Unhappily neither the Teeside CID in whose jurisdiction Redcar fell, nor the Mid-Yorkshire team led by Peter Pascoe, had met with any success in tracking down the culprits.

ГўВЂВ?No, sir. This bodyГўВЂВ™s been here long enough to turn into bones. ThatГўВЂВ™s not to say this couldnГўВЂВ™t be the same lot as were here in the summer, though of course it was never established for certain they were the same bunch that raided FG.ГўВЂВ™

Wield was a stickler for accuracy, a natural bent refined paradoxically by years of deception. Concealing you were gay in the police force meant weighing with scrupulous care everything you said or did, and this habit of precise scrutiny had turned him into one of the most reliable colleagues Dalziel had.

But sometimes his nit-picking could get on your wick.

ГўВЂВ?Just tell us what happened, Wieldy,ГўВЂВ™ sighed the Fat Man long-sufferingly.

ГўВЂВ?Right, sir. This group ГўВЂВ“ I gather they call themselves ANIMA by the way ГўВЂВ“ the nameГўВЂВ™s known to us but not the personnel ГўВЂВ“ sorry ГўВЂВ“ they entered the grounds with the clear intention of breaking into the labs and releasing any animals they found there. But if they were the same lot who were here in the summer, they must have got a bit of a shock as ALBAГўВЂВ™s taken some extra precautions since then.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Precautions?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?YouГўВЂВ™ll see, sir,ГўВЂВ™ said Wield not without a certain well-concealed glee. ГўВЂВ?And on their way through the grounds they sort of stumbled across these bones.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?CouldnГўВЂВ™t have brought them with them just to get a bit of publicity?ГўВЂВ™ said Dalziel hopefully.

ГўВЂВ?DoesnГўВЂВ™t look like it, sir,ГўВЂВ™ said Wield. ГўВЂВ?They kicked up such a hullabaloo that the security guards finally took heed and came out. When they realized what was going off, they took the demonstrators inside. Gather there was a bit of trouble then. They got loose and ran riot for a bit before they were brought under control.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Violent, eh? So there could be a link with Redcar?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?CanГўВЂВ™t really comment, sir. Mr HeadingleyГўВЂВ™s up at the house interviewing them. He told me to sort things out down here.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Good old George,ГўВЂВ™ said Dalziel. ГўВЂВ?Perk of being a DI, Wieldy. Start taking an interest in your promotion exams and you could be up there in the dry and warm.ГўВЂВ™

Wield shrugged indifferently, his features showing as little reaction to horizontal sleet as the crags of Scafell.

He knew you didnГўВЂВ™t learn things from books, you learned them from people. Like that other George, Creed. HeГўВЂВ™d pay a lot more attention to his weather forecasts from now on in! Also he knew for a fact that not all the elevated rank in the world was going to keep the Fat Man dry and warm.

He said, ГўВЂВ?Yes, sir. I expect youГўВЂВ™ll be wanting to view the scene before you head up there yourself.ГўВЂВ™

It was a simple statement of fact not a challenging question.

Dalziel sighed and said, ГўВЂВ?If thatГўВЂВ™s what you expect, Wieldy, I expect IГўВЂВ™d better do it. Get me waterproofs out of the boot, will you, else IГўВЂВ™ll be sodden afore I start.ГўВЂВ™

Watching Dalziel getting into oilskins and wellies through the streaming glass, Wield was reminded of a film heГўВЂВ™d seen of Houdini wriggling out of his bonds while submerged in a huge glass jar.

The car gave one last convulsive shake and the Fat Man was free.

ГўВЂВ?Right,ГўВЂВ™ he said. ГўВЂВ?WhereГўВЂВ™s it at?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?This way,ГўВЂВ™ said Wield.

At this moment Nature, with the perfect timing due to the entry of a major figure on her stage, shut off the wind machine for a moment and let the curtain of sleet shimmer to transparency.

ГўВЂВ?Bloody hell,ГўВЂВ™ said Dalziel with the incredulous amazement of a Great War general happening on a battlefield. ГўВЂВ?They had Dutch elm disease or what?ГўВЂВ™

On either side of the driveway a broad swathe of woodland had been ripped out and this fillet of desolation which presumably ran all the way round the house was bounded by two fences, the outer a simple hedge of barbed wire, the inner much more sophisticated, a twelve-feet-high security screen with floodlights and closed-circuit TV cameras every twenty yards.

Neither light nor presumably cameras were much use when the wind, as it now did once more, drove a rolling barrage of sleet and dendral debris across this wilderness.

Wield said, ГўВЂВ?These are the precautions I mentioned, sir. WeГўВЂВ™ve got duckboards down. Try and stay on them else you could need a block and tackle.ГўВЂВ™

Was he taking the piss? The Fat Man trod gingerly on the first duckboard and felt it sink into the glutinous mud. He decided the sergeant was just being typically precise.

The wooden pathway zigzagged through the mire to avoid the craters left by uprooted trees, finally coming to a halt at the edge of one of the largest and deepest. Here there was some protection from a canvas awning which every blast of wind threatened to carry away along with the two constables whose manful efforts were necessary to keep its metal poles anchored in the yielding clay.

At the bottom of the crater a man was taking photographs whose flash revealed on the edge above him, crouched low to get maximum protection from the billowing canvas, another figure studying something in a plastic bag.

ГўВЂВ?Good God,ГўВЂВ™ said Dalziel. ГўВЂВ?ThatГўВЂВ™s never Troll Longbottom?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Mr Longbottom, yes, sir,ГўВЂВ™ said Wield. ГўВЂВ?Seems he was dining with Dr Batty, thatГўВЂВ™s ALBAГўВЂВ™s Research Director, when the security staff rang him to say what had happened. Dr BattyГўВЂВ™s up at the house.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?And Troll came too? MustГўВЂВ™ve been losing at cards or summat.ГўВЂВ™

Thomas Roland Longbottom, consultant pathologist at the City General, was notoriously unenthusiastic about on-site examinations. ГўВЂВ?You want a call-out service, join the AA,ГўВЂВ™ heГўВЂВ™d once told Dalziel.

His forenames had been compressed to Troll in early childhood, and whether the sobriquet in any way predicated his professional enthusiasm for dead flesh and loose bones was a question for psycholinguistics. Dalziel doubted it. TheyГўВЂВ™d played in the same school rugby team and the Fat Man claimed to have seen Longbottom at the age of thirteen devour an opponentГўВЂВ™s ear.

He gingerly edged his way round the rim of the crater and drew the consultantГўВЂВ™s attention by tugging at the collar of the mohair topcoat he was wearing over a dinner jacket.

ГўВЂВ?How do, Troll? Good of you to come. NeednГўВЂВ™t have got dressed up, but. YouГўВЂВ™ll get mud on your dicky.ГўВЂВ™

Longbottom squinted up at him. Time, which had basted Dalziel, had wasted him to an appropriate cadaverousness.

ГўВЂВ?Would you mind staying on your own piece of board, please, Dalziel? Facilis est descensus, but IГўВЂВ™m choosy about the company I make it in.ГўВЂВ™

Education and high society had long eroded his native accent, but he had lost none of the skill of abusive exchange which form the basis of playground intercourse in Mid-Yorkshire.

ГўВЂВ?Sorry you got dragged away from your dinner, but I see you brought your snap,ГўВЂВ™ said Dalziel peering at the plastic bag which contained a cluster of small bones.

ГўВЂВ?Which I shall need to feast on at my leisure.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Looks like slim pickings to me,ГўВЂВ™ said Dalziel. ГўВЂВ?So what can you give me off the top of your head? OwtГўВЂВ™ll do. Sex. Age. Time of death. MotherГўВЂВ™s maiden name.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?ItГўВЂВ™s a hand, and itГўВЂВ™s human, and thatГўВЂВ™s all IГўВЂВ™m prepared to say till IГўВЂВ™ve seen a great deal more which may be some time. This one, I fear, like Nicholas Nickleby, is coming out in instalments.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?CanГўВЂВ™t recall him,ГўВЂВ™ said Dalziel. ГўВЂВ?What did he die of?ГўВЂВ™

Longbottom arose with a groan which comprehended everything from the joke to the stiffness of his muscles and the state of the weather.

ГўВЂВ?Just look at my coat,ГўВЂВ™ he said. ГўВЂВ?Do you know how much these things cost? I shall of course be making a claim.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?IГўВЂВ™d send it to ALBA then. Your mate, Batty. Do you reckon he keeps anything to drink up there?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?I should imagine thereГўВЂВ™s a single methanol in the labs.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?ThatГўВЂВ™ll do nicely,ГўВЂВ™ said Andy Dalziel.

v (#ulink_036a23fa-bcf2-5645-bf1a-5fad92fa1e0e)

Peter Pascoe could have done without the funeral meats but felt heГўВЂВ™d gone as far as he dared in disrupting his sisterГўВЂВ™s arrangements. In fact it worked out rather well as under the influence of cups of tea and salmon sandwiches the wrinkly clones turned into amiable, intelligent individuals, several of them well below retirement age. Some even went out of their way to compliment him on his address, saying how pleased Ada would have been with the service and how much theyГўВЂВ™d like something like that when their turn came.

Myra clearly took all this in because when theyГўВЂВ™d waved the stragglers goodbye, she said, ГўВЂВ?OK, so as usual you were right.ГўВЂВ™

He smiled at her but she wasnГўВЂВ™t ready for that yet, and turned back into the old cottage which had been AdaГўВЂВ™s home for fifty years.

ГўВЂВ?Only room for one in that kitchen,ГўВЂВ™ she said. ГўВЂВ?IГўВЂВ™ll do the washing up. You can carry on with your inventory.ГўВЂВ™

When she came back into the living room, he was manoeuvring an old mahogany secretaire through the doorway.

ГўВЂВ?YouГўВЂВ™re taking that old thing then?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Yes. I thought IГўВЂВ™d get it on the roof rack now so I can make a quick getaway in the morning. DonГўВЂВ™t worry. ItГўВЂВ™s on the inventory. IГўВЂВ™ll get it valued and make sure it goes into the estate.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?I didnГўВЂВ™t mean that ГўВЂВ¦ oh think what you will, you always did.ГўВЂВ™

She turned away, angry and hurt.

Oh shit, thought Pascoe. Whatever happened to old silver tongue?

He reached out and caught her arm and said, ГўВЂВ?Sorry. I was talking like an executor. Maybe a bit like a cop too. Listen, you donГўВЂВ™t have to say anything but anything you do say will be taken down.ГўВЂВ™

She stared at him blankly and for a second he thought sheГўВЂВ™d forgotten the grubby little schoolboy joke heГўВЂВ™d tried to embarrass her with all those years ago.

Then she smiled and said, ГўВЂВ?Knickers,ГўВЂВ™ and through the eggshell make-up he glimpsed the girl whoГўВЂВ™d been his closest ally in the long war of adolescence. OK, so her motivation had a lot to do with resentment that Sue, the eldest, could get away with shorter skirts, thicker lipstick, and later hours than herself. Whatever the reason, their closest moments within the family had been together.

ГўВЂВ?What about you?ГўВЂВ™ he said. ГўВЂВ?IsnГўВЂВ™t there anything youГўВЂВ™d like?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Far too old-fashioned for our house,ГўВЂВ™ she said firmly.

ГўВЂВ?Something small, as a memento,ГўВЂВ™ Pascoe urged.

ГўВЂВ?No need for that. IГўВЂВ™ll remember,ГўВЂВ™ she said.

There was something in her tone, not acerbic exactly, but certainly acetic. SheГўВЂВ™d never been anyoneГўВЂВ™s favourite, Pascoe realized. Susan had been the apple of their parentsГўВЂВ™ eye, would perhaps have been their only fruit if their chosen method of contraception had been more efficient. He himself had been AdaГўВЂВ™s favourite ГўВЂВ“ or, as he sometimes felt, target. Driven by the loss of two men in her life (three if you counted the disappointment of her own son) sheГўВЂВ™d focused all her shaping care on her male grandchild, leaving poor Myra to find her own way.

It had led to marriage with Trevor, the kind of financial advisor who bores clients into submission; an ultramodern executive villa in Coventry, a pair of ultra-neanderthal teenage sons in private education; and a resolve to show the world that what sheГўВЂВ™d got was exactly what she wanted.

So, no appetite-spoiling bitterness this, just a condiment sharpness.

Pascoe said, ГўВЂВ?About the music ГўВЂВ¦ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?It doesnГўВЂВ™t matter, Pete. IГўВЂВ™ve said you were right.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?No, IГўВЂВ™d like to explain. Here, let me show you something.ГўВЂВ™

He opened the drawer of the secretaire, reached inside, pressed a knob of wood, and a second tiny drawer, concealed by the inlay pattern, came sliding out of the first.

ГўВЂВ?Neat, eh?ГўВЂВ™ he said. ГўВЂВ?I found it when I was ten. No gold sovereigns or anything. Just this.ГўВЂВ™

From the drawer he took a dog-eared sepia photograph of a soldier, seated rather stiffly with his body turned to display the single stripe on his sleeve. His face, looking directly into the camera, wore the solemn set expression demanded by old technique and convention, but there was the hint of a smile around the eyes as if he was feeling rather pleased with himself.

ГўВЂВ?Know who this is?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Well, he looks so like you when youГўВЂВ™re feeling cocky, it must be our great-grandfather.ГўВЂВ™

Pascoe couldnГўВЂВ™t see the resemblance but felt heГўВЂВ™d probably earned the crack. He turned the picture over so she could see what was written on the back in black ink faded to grey.

First lance corporal from our draft! December 1914.

Then Pascoe tipped the photo so that it caught the light. There was more writing, this time in pencil long since been erased. But the writer had pressed so hard the indented words were still legible. Killed Wipers 1917.

ГўВЂВ?All those years and she couldnГўВЂВ™t bear to have it on display,ГўВЂВ™ mused Pascoe.

ГўВЂВ?All those years and you never mentioned it,ГўВЂВ™ accused Myra.

ГўВЂВ?I promised Gran,ГўВЂВ™ he said. ГўВЂВ?She caught me looking at it. She was furious at first, then she calmed down and made me promise not to say anything.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Another of your little secrets,ГўВЂВ™ she said. ГўВЂВ?The Pascoes must have more of them than MI5.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?YouГўВЂВ™re right,ГўВЂВ™ he said, trying to keep things light. ГўВЂВ?Anyway, that was when she told me her only recollection of her father was of him playing on their old piano. Her mother mustГўВЂВ™ve told her it was ragtime, I doubt if Ada could tell Scott Joplin from Janis Joplin. And thatГўВЂВ™s what made me think of that tape.ГўВЂВ™

Myra took the photo from him and said, ГўВЂВ?Poor sod. CanГўВЂВ™t have been more than twenty-two or-three. What was he in?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?West York Fusiliers. ThatГўВЂВ™s how I found out about the Yorkshire connection.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?She really hated uniforms, didnГўВЂВ™t she?ГўВЂВ™ said Myra dropping the picture back in the drawer. ГўВЂВ?I still remember how sarky she got when I joined the Brownies.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Think of how she must have felt with Dad playing soldiers in the TA once a week. Not to mention him turning out a Hang ГўВЂВ™em and Flog ГўВЂВ™em Tory.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Still voting for the revolution are you, Peter? Funny that, you being a cop. Now that was really the last straw for poor old Ada, wasnГўВЂВ™t it?ГўВЂВ™

She sounded as if the memory didnГўВЂВ™t altogether displease her.

ГўВЂВ?At least it got her and Dad on the same side for once,ГўВЂВ™ said Pascoe, determined not to be lured back into a squabble. ГўВЂВ?He told me he hadnГўВЂВ™t subsidized me through a university education to pound a beat. He wanted me to be a bank manager or something in the City. Gran saw me as a reforming MP. She was even more incredulous than Dad. She came to my graduation thinking she could change my mind. Dad had given up on me by then. He wouldnГўВЂВ™t even let Mum come.ГўВЂВ™

Despite his effort at lightness he could feel bitterness creeping in.

ГўВЂВ?Well, you got your own back, getting yourself posted up north and finding fifty-seven varieties of excuse why you could never make it home at Christmas,ГўВЂВ™ said Myra. ГўВЂВ?Still, itГўВЂВ™s all water under the bridge. GranГўВЂВ™s gone, and I bet Dad bores the corks off their hats down under boasting about my son the chief inspector.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?You reckon? Maybe IГўВЂВ™ll resign. Hey, remember how you used to beat me at tennis when I was a weedy kid and you had forearms like Rod Laver? Got any of those muscles left?ГўВЂВ™

Between them they manoeuvred the secretaire out of the cottage and up onto his roof rack. He strapped it down, with a waterproof sheet on top of it.

ГўВЂВ?Right,ГўВЂВ™ said Myra. ГўВЂВ?Now what?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Now you push off. IГўВЂВ™ll finish the inventory and start sorting her papers. YouГўВЂВ™ve got to be back here tomorrow morning to meet the house clearance man, remember?ГўВЂВ™

Pascoe had been delighted when Myra volunteered for this task, being justly derided by his wife as probably the only man in Yorkshire who could haggle a price upwards.

Myra, a terrier in a bargain, bared her teeth in an anticipatory smile.

ГўВЂВ?DonГўВЂВ™t expect a fortune,ГўВЂВ™ she said. ГўВЂВ?But IГўВЂВ™ll see weГўВЂВ™re not cheated. YouГўВЂВ™re not expecting me to sell that, are you?ГўВЂВ™

That was a plastic urn in taupe. Were WarwickshireГўВЂВ™s funerary suppliers capable of a bilingual pun? wondered Pascoe.

ГўВЂВ?No, that goes with me.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?YouГўВЂВ™re going to do what she asked with the ashes then?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?If I can.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Funny, with her hating the army so much.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?ItГўВЂВ™s a symbolic gesture, I assume. I wonГўВЂВ™t try to work out what it means as IГўВЂВ™d prefer to be thinking holy thoughts as I scatter them.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?ItГўВЂВ™s still weird. Then, so was Gran a lot of the time. I shouldnГўВЂВ™t care to spend the night in this old place with her ashes on the mantelpiece. You sure you wonГўВЂВ™t change your mind and come over to us? Trevor would be delighted to see you.ГўВЂВ™

Pascoe, who had only once set foot in MyraГўВЂВ™s executive villa and found it as aesthetically and atmospherically appealing as a multi-gym, said, ГўВЂВ?No, thanks. IГўВЂВ™ve got a lot to do and IГўВЂВ™d like to be off at the crack.ГўВЂВ™

They stood regarding each other rather awkwardly. Myra looked untypically vulnerable. Me too maybe, thought Pascoe. On impulse he stepped forward, took her in his arms and kissed her. He could feel her surprise. TheyГўВЂВ™d never been a hugging and kissing family. Then she pressed him close and said, ГўВЂВњBye, Peter. Safe journey. Give my love to Ellie. Sorry she couldnГўВЂВ™t make it. But I know about kidsГўВЂВ™ colds when theyГўВЂВ™re that age.ГўВЂВ™

And I know about urgent business appointments with important clients, thought Pascoe. At least Rosie really had been snuffling in bed when he left.

And perhaps Trevor really did have an urgent deal to close, he reproved himself.

He gave Myra another hug and let her go.

ГўВЂВ?LetГўВЂВ™s not make it so long next time,ГўВЂВ™ he said.

ГўВЂВ?And letГўВЂВ™s try not to make it a funeral,ГўВЂВ™ she replied.

But neither of them tried to put any flesh on these bones of a promise.

He stood in the porch and watched her drive away. He felt glad and sad, full of relief that theyГўВЂВ™d parted on good terms and full of guilt that they hadnГўВЂВ™t been better.

He went inside and addressed the urn.

ГўВЂВ?Ada,ГўВЂВ™ he said, ГўВЂВ?we really are a fucked-up family, us Pascoes. I wonder whose fault that is?ГўВЂВ™

He worked hard on the inventory till mid-evening then made a neat copy of it to leave for Myra. HeГўВЂВ™d need another copy to send to Susan in Australia.

One thing he felt certain of. His eldest sister might not be able to fly halfway round the world for her grandmotherГўВЂВ™s funeral, but she would expect any money making the journey in the opposite direction to be accounted for down to the last halfpenny. The will, of which Pascoe was executor, left various legacies to AdaГўВЂВ™s favourite causes and the residue to be divided equally between her three grandchildren. Whether this even-handedness had postdated his fall from grace, Pascoe wasnГўВЂВ™t sure, but he was glad that in this at least the old accusation of favouritism was clearly given the lie. Not that there was much ГўВЂВ“ Ada had lived up to her income and the cottage was rented. But Pascoe had seen blood shed over far smaller amounts than were likely to be realized from AdaГўВЂВ™s estate and heГўВЂВ™d already arranged to have all the paperwork double-checked by AdaГўВЂВ™s solicitor, a no-nonsense woman called Barbara Lomax, whose probity was beyond aspersion.

He boxed up some books that interested him or might interest Ellie and scrupulously made a note on the inventory. Next he started sorting out AdaГўВЂВ™s papers, starting with a rough division into personal/business. He was touched to find every letter he had ever written to her carefully preserved, an emotion slightly diluted when he realized that this urge to conservation also included fifty-year-old grocery receipts.

His stomach rumbled like distant gunfire. It seemed a long time since the salmon sandwiches. Also he felt like stretching his legs.

Taking a torch from the car he strolled the half-mile to the village pub where he enjoyed a pint and a pie and a reminiscent conversation about Ada with the landlord. As he walked back he found he was knee-deep in mist drifting from the fields, but the night sky was so bright it felt like his head was brushing the stars. The pub telly had spoken of severe weather with gales and sleet in the north. Dalziel was right, he thought with a smile. The soft south really did begin after Sheffield.

He resumed his work on the papers but found that his starry stroll had unsettled him. Also after a while he realized he was more aware than a rational man ought to be of the screw-top urn squatting on the mantel shelf. In the end, slightly ashamed, he took it out to the car and locked it in the boot. As for the papers, home where he had a computer, a calculator and a copier, plus a wife who knew how to work them, was the place to get AdaГўВЂВ™s affairs sorted. It was time for bed.

Getting his clothes off was an effort. His limbs felt dull and heavy and the air in the tiny bedroom, though hardly less sharp than the frosty night outside, seemed viscous and clinging. The cold sheets on the narrow bed received him like a shroud.

Sleep was a long time coming ГўВЂВ¦

ГўВЂВ¦ a long time coming ГўВЂВ“ maybe because I wouldnt take any rum ГўВЂВ“ no shortage here ГўВЂВ“ how the lads ud lap it up!

And when it did come darkdream came too terrible as ever ГўВЂВ“ only this time there was more ГўВЂВ“ this time when the muzzles flashed and the hot metal burnt I didnt scream and try to wake but went right through it and came out on the other side and kept on going ГўВЂВ“ heart pounding ГўВЂВ“ muscles aching ГўВЂВ“ lungs bursting ГўВЂВ“ like a man running from summat so vile he wont stop till he falls or knows he has left it far behind.

In the end I had to stop ГўВЂВ“ knowing somehow it werent just miles Id run over but years ГўВЂВ“ seventy or eighty of them maybe ГўВЂВ“ near clean on out of this terrible century ГўВЂВ“ and Id run home.

Where else would a frightened man run to?

O it were so good Alice! Fields so fresh and green ГўВЂВ“ woods all bursting with leaf ГўВЂВ“ river running pure and clean with fat trout shadowing all the pools. Away yonder I could see mucky old Leeds ГўВЂВ“ only now there werent no smoke hanging over it ГўВЂВ“ and all that grimy granite were washed to a pearly grey ГўВЂВ“ and shooting up above the old quiet chimneys were towers and turrets of gleaming white marble like a picture in a fairy tale.

As for Kirkton it were just the same as I long to be back in only so much better ГўВЂВ“ with all them tumbledown cottages alongside Grindals turned into gardens ГўВЂВ“ and the mill itself had big airy windows and I could see lasses and lads laughing and talking inside ГўВЂВ“ and that old bog meadow out towards Haggs Farm that used to stink so much was all drained and the river banks built up so thered be no more flooding ГўВЂВ“ and High Street seemed wider too with all them slimy cobbles that broke old Tom Steddings head when his horse slipped covered over with level tarmac ГўВЂВ“ and the Maisterhouse away through the trees with its red brick glowing and its pointing gleaming like it were just built yesterday.

Even St Marks looked a lot more welcoming cos the parson had ripped out them gloomy windows that used to terrify us kids with their blood and flames ГўВЂВ“ and in their stead hed put clear new glass which let sun come streaming through like spring water. Even the old tombstones had been cleaned up and I took this fancy to see my own ГўВЂВ“ only I thought on that Id not be buried here with tothers of my name but far away across the sea where none would ever find me ГўВЂВ“ and soon as I thought that I felt myself being hauled back to this awful place.

But I werent going easy and I fought against it and hung on still and peered over the wall into the schoolyard to see the kiddies playing there all so happy and strong and free ГўВЂВ“ and I wondered whether any on them was descended from me ГўВЂВ“ and I thought I saw a familiar face ГўВЂВ“ then came the sound of a distant crump like they was blasting out at Abels Quarry ГўВЂВ“ only I knew they werent ГўВЂВ“ and a voice a long way off saying some poor sods catching it ГўВЂВ“ and I didnГўВЂВ™t want to blink though the sun was shining straight into my eyes ГўВЂВ“ but I had to blink ГўВЂВ“ and though it was only a second or even less when I opened my eyes again sun were gone and kiddies were gone and all I could see were the night sky through the window red and terrible as that old stained glass ГўВЂВ“ and all I could hear were the rumble of the guns ГўВЂВ“ and all I could feel was the straw from my palliasse pricking into my back ГўВЂВ¦

Pascoe awoke. Had he been dreaming? He thought he had but his dream had gone. Or had it? Did dreams ever go? Our present was someone elseГўВЂВ™s future. We live in other menГўВЂВ™s dreams ГўВЂВ¦

He closed his eyes and drifted back to that other place.

ГўВЂВ¦ but Ill try to keep them dream children bright in my mind my love ГўВЂВ“ you too ГўВЂВ“ and tell little Ada about them ГўВЂВ“ I still cant credit a bible heaven spite of old padre preaching at me every other day ГўВЂВ“ so unless this lots going to teach us summat about the way we live here on earth wheres the point of it all eh?

Wheres the bloody point?

vi (#ulink_64f6c67b-7a70-54a7-88be-8b4e2ba127f1)

Wanwood House had had pieces added to it in the modern Portaloo style, but basically it was a square solid Victorian building, its proportions not palatial but just far enough outside the human scale to put a peasant in his place. Thus did the nineteenth-century Yorkshireman underline the natural order of things.

His twentieth-century successors were more self-effacing it seemed.

ГўВЂВ?DonГўВЂВ™t advertise much,ГўВЂВ™ observed Dalziel looking at a discreet plaque which read ALBA PHARMACEUTICALS Research Division. ГўВЂВ?And thereГўВЂВ™s nowt on the gate.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Might as well have put a neon sign on the roof for all the good itГўВЂВ™s done them,ГўВЂВ™ said Longbottom ringing the bell.

The door was opened by a man in a dark green uniform with the name ГўВЂВ?PATTENГўВЂВ™ and a logo consisting of an orange sunburst and the letters ГўВЂВ?TecSecГўВЂВ™ at his breast. He was leanly muscular with close-cropped hair and a long scar down the right cheek which, helped by a slightly askew nose, suggested that at some time the whole face had been removed and rather badly stitched back on. Dalziel viewed him with the distaste of a professional soldier for private armies. But at least the man sized them up at a glance and didnГўВЂВ™t do anything silly like asking for identification.

He ushered them through the nineteenth into the twentieth century in the form of a modern reception area with a stainless-steel desk, pink fitted carpet and hessian-hung walls from which depended what might have been a selection of Prince CharlesГўВЂВ™s watercolours left standing in the rain.

One of three doors almost invisible in their hessian camouflage opened and a slim fair-haired man in his thirties and a dinner jacket, who reminded Dalziel of someone but he couldnГўВЂВ™t quite say who, came towards them saying, ГўВЂВ?My dear chap, youГўВЂВ™re soaked. No need, IГўВЂВ™m sure. The fuzz must have plenty of pensioned-off sawbones all too keen to earn a bob doing basics.ГўВЂВ™

Assuming none of this solicitude was aimed at him, Dalziel said, ГўВЂВ?Aye, and we sometimes make do with a barber and a leech. YouГўВЂВ™ll be Batty, I daresay.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Indeed,ГўВЂВ™ said the man regarding Dalziel with the air of one nostalgic for the days of tradesmenГўВЂВ™s entrances. ГўВЂВ?And you ГўВЂВ¦?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Superintendent Andrew Dalziel,ГўВЂВ™ offered Longbottom.

ГўВЂВ?Ah, the great white chief. Took your time getting here, superintendent.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Got the call on my way back from a meeting in Nottingham,ГўВЂВ™ said Dalziel. He saw Longbottom smile his awareness that the meeting in question had taken place under floodlights on a rugby pitch.

ГўВЂВ?Well, at least now youГўВЂВ™re here, perhaps you can tell the bunch of incompetents whoГўВЂВ™ve preceded you to get their fingers out and start imposing some sort of order on this mess.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?IГўВЂВ™ll do my best,ГўВЂВ™ said the Fat Man mildly. ГўВЂВ?Talking of messes, sir, thatГўВЂВ™s a right one youГўВЂВ™ve got out there. Looks like a health hazard to me.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?On the contrary, itГўВЂВ™s a cordon sanitaire,ГўВЂВ™ said Batty. ГўВЂВ?After the damage those lunatics did last summer, it was quite clearly beyond the police forceГўВЂВ™s competency to protect us, so we took steps of our own to thwart these criminals.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Criminals,ГўВЂВ™ echoed Dalziel as if the word were new to him. ГўВЂВ?YouГўВЂВ™ll be prosecuting then, sir?ГўВЂВ™

Batty said, ГўВЂВ?If itГўВЂВ™s left up to me, we will! Normally we donГўВЂВ™t care to give these lunatics the oxygen of publicity, but I suspect in this case, some exposure is already unavoidable?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Aye,ГўВЂВ™ said Dalziel. ГўВЂВ?Having a body dug up in your back yard usually gives off a lot worse stink than oxygen.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?As I feared, though I suppose the exact nature of the publicity depends on how diplomatically things are handled. Troll, what can you tell us?ГўВЂВ™

Dalziel gave the pathologist a look which dared him to speculate an inch further than heГўВЂВ™d done on the edge of the crater.

ГўВЂВ?Early days, David, early days,ГўВЂВ™ murmured Longbottom.

ГўВЂВ?And getting close to early hours,ГўВЂВ™ said Dalziel looking at his watch. ГўВЂВ?Mebbe I could see the witnesses now ГўВЂВ¦?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Yes, I suppose so. Patten will take you along. Troll, letГўВЂВ™s try to get your outside dry and your inside suitably wetted.ГўВЂВ™

With an apologetic mop and mow at Dalziel, the pathologist let himself be led away. Dalziel who kept his slates as carefully as any shopkeeper, chalked up another small debt against BattyГўВЂВ™s name and followed the security man through one of the hessian doors and down a long corridor.

ГўВЂВ?WeГўВЂВ™ve got them locked up down here,ГўВЂВ™ he said.

ГўВЂВ?Locked up?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?They are trespassers, and once they got into the building, they ran amok. One of my men got hit in the stomach, I was threatened ГўВЂВ¦ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Oh aye?ГўВЂВ™ said Dalziel, interested. Mebbe this could have some connection with Redcar after all. ГўВЂВ?Anyone get really hurt?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?More dignity than owt else,ГўВЂВ™ said Patten enigmatically. ГўВЂВ?ThatГўВЂВ™s where they are.ГўВЂВ™

TheyГўВЂВ™d turned left at a T-junction in the corridor. Ahead, Dalziel had already observed another TecSec man slouching against a door, his head wreathed in smoke. As soon as he became aware of their approach, he straightened his uniform and snapped to attention. There was no sign of a cigarette. Dalziel admired the legerdemain and bet on the big front pocket of the dark green trousers.

ГўВЂВ?At ease, Jimmy,ГўВЂВ™ said Patten. ГўВЂВ?This is Superintendent Dalziel.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?I know,ГўВЂВ™ said the man. ГўВЂВ?How do you do, sir.ГўВЂВ™

Dalziel was used to being recognized but liked to know why.

ГўВЂВ?Do I know you?ГўВЂВ™ he said.

ГўВЂВ?Not exactly, sir. But I know you. I was at Dartleby nick till I took the pension. Uniformed. PC Howard, sir.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Jumped ship, did you? All right, lad. You can piss off now.ГўВЂВ™

The man looked unhappily at Patten who said, ГўВЂВ?We do have our orders ГўВЂВ¦ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?ThatГўВЂВ™s what Eichmann said, and they hanged him. So bugger off. And by the way, Howard ГўВЂВ¦ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Yes, sir?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Your cockГўВЂВ™s on fire.ГўВЂВ™

Leaving the ex-policeman beating at his pocket, Dalziel stepped into the room and halted dead in his tracks.

ГўВЂВ?Bloody hell,ГўВЂВ™ he said.

Gently steaming against a big radiator were eight women, each mucky enough to have set DalzielГўВЂВ™s granny spinning in her grave.

That Wield, he swore to himself. He kept quiet on purpose. IГўВЂВ™ll punch the bugger handsome!

One woman detached herself from the huddle and came towards him, saying, ГўВЂВ?Thank God, hereГўВЂВ™s tГўВЂВ™organ grinder. Now mebbe we can get shut of the monkeys.ГўВЂВ™

She glared towards Patten as she spoke. He returned the glare indifferently. Dalziel on the other hand studied the woman with the intense interest of a gourmet served a new dish. Not that there was much to whet the appetite. She had less meat on her than a picked-over chicken wing and her cheeks were pale and hollow as wind-carved limestone.

Memory stirred. That business down the mine when Pascoe got hurt ГўВЂВ¦

He said, ГўВЂВ?YouГўВЂВ™re one of them Women Against Pit Closures lot from Burrthorpe. Walker, isnГўВЂВ™t it? Wendy Walker?ГўВЂВ™

She stepped by him and slammed the door in PattenГўВЂВ™s face. Then she said, ГўВЂВ?ThatГўВЂВ™s right. Got a fag?ГўВЂВ™

He pulled out a packet. He rarely smoked now, not because of health fears, still less because of social pressures, but because heГўВЂВ™d found it was blunting his ability to distinguish single malts with a single sniff. But he still carried fags, finding them professionally useful both as ice-breakers and cage-rattlers.

ГўВЂВ?YouГўВЂВ™re a long way off the coalface, luv,ГўВЂВ™ he said, flicking his old petrol lighter.

ГўВЂВ?Coal?ГўВЂВ™

She drew the word into herself with a long breath that reduced the cigarette by an inch of ash.

ГўВЂВ?WhatГўВЂВ™s that?ГўВЂВ™ she said on the outgoing puff. ГўВЂВ?They shut Burrthorpe last year like theyГўВЂВ™ve shut most on tГўВЂВ™others. Them bastards made a lot of promises they didnГўВЂВ™t keep, but when they said theyГўВЂВ™d pay us back for the Strike, by God they kept that one!ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?ItГўВЂВ™s still a long way from home.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Home is where the hate is, and thereГўВЂВ™s nowt left to hate in Burrthorpe, just an empty hole in the ground where there used to be a community.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?IГўВЂВ™m sorry to interrupt this reunion and the Channel 4 documentary, but you, whoever you are, how long are we to be restrained by these thugs in these disgusting conditions?ГўВЂВ™

The voice, as up-to-Oxford county as WalkerГўВЂВ™s was down-to-earth Yorkshire, belonged to a small sturdy woman, her short-cropped black hair accentuating the determined cast of her handsome features. This one too brought a memory popping up in DalzielГўВЂВ™s mind, hot as a piece of fresh toast, of a woman heГўВЂВ™d known and liked ГўВЂВ“ more than liked ГўВЂВ“ down in Lincolnshire after PascoeГўВЂВ™s wedding ГўВЂВ¦ He hadnГўВЂВ™t thought about her for years. What could have pressed that button? he wondered as he stared with undisguised pleasure at the way this womanГўВЂВ™s wet sweater clung to her melopeponic breasts.

ГўВЂВ?Nay, lass,ГўВЂВ™ he said. ГўВЂВ?No oneГўВЂВ™s restraining you, whoever you are. You can bugger off any time you like, once youГўВЂВ™ve made your statement. You have been asked to make a statement, Miss er ГўВЂВ¦?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Marvell. Amanda Marvell. Yes, weГўВЂВ™ve been asked but most of us are refusing till such time as we have proper representation.ГўВЂВ™

She glared accusingly, and in DalzielГўВЂВ™s eyes, most becomingly, at Wendy Walker who snapped, ГўВЂВ?Yeah, IГўВЂВ™ve made my statement. In fact, when it comes down to it, IГўВЂВ™m the only one whoГўВЂВ™s really got owt to state. Mebbe more than youГўВЂВ™ll care to hear, Cap. All I want is to get out of here.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?You surprise me, Wendy,ГўВЂВ™ said Marvell, all cool control. ГўВЂВ?What happened to all the big talk about going for the jugular and taking no prisoners? First sign of trouble, and youГўВЂВ™re all for breaking ranks.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Yeah? Mebbe I should have been more choosy who I formed ranks with in the first place,ГўВЂВ™ snarled Walker.

ГўВЂВ?Really? You mean we donГўВЂВ™t match up to the standards of your mining chums? Well, I can see that. Once they encountered real opposition, they pretty soon crumbled too, didnГўВЂВ™t they?ГўВЂВ™

There was a time when a provocation like this to a Burrthorpe lass would have started World War Three, and indeed a small red spot at the heart of those pallid cheeks seemed to indicate some incipient nuclear activity. But before she could explode, a round-faced blonde who looked even wetter and more miserable than the rest said, ГўВЂВ?WendyГўВЂВ™s right, Cap. This is serious stuff. It was bones we found out there, a body. LetГўВЂВ™s just make our statements and go home. Please.ГўВЂВ™

MarvellГўВЂВ™s et-tu-Brute look was even more devastating than her jГўВЂВ™accuse glare, and Dalziel was experiencing a definite wringing of the withers when the door opened and George HeadingleyГўВЂВ™s broad anxious face appeared.

ГўВЂВ?Hello, sir. Heard you were here. Can we have a word?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?If we must,ГўВЂВ™ said Dalziel reluctantly, and with a last mnemonic look at Cap MarvellГўВЂВ™s gently steaming bosom, he went out into the corridor.

ГўВЂВ?All right, George,ГўВЂВ™ he said. ГўВЂВ?Fill me in.ГўВЂВ™

Headingley, a pink-faced middle-aged man with a sad moustache and a cream-tea paunch, said, ГўВЂВ?That lot in there belong to ANIMA, the animal rights group and they wereГўВЂВ”ГўВЂВ™

Dalziel said, ГўВЂВ?I donГўВЂВ™t give a toss if they belong to the Dagenham Girl Pipers and theyГўВЂВ™ve come here to rehearse, theyГўВЂВ™re witnesses is all that matters. So what did they witness?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Well, IГўВЂВ™ve got one statement on tape so far. The others arenГўВЂВ™t being very cooperative but this lass ГўВЂВ¦ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Aye. Wendy Walker. First time in her life sheГўВЂВ™s been cooperative with the police, I bet. LetГўВЂВ™s hear this tape then.ГўВЂВ™

Headingley led him to a small office where the recorder was set up. Dalziel listened intently then said, ГўВЂВ?This Cap, the one with the chest ГўВЂВ¦ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Marvell. Captain Marvell, get it? SheГўВЂВ™s the boss, except that she and Walker donГўВЂВ™t see eye to eye.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?I noticed. She sounds a bit of a hard case.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Yes, sir. Patten, thatГўВЂВ™s the TecSec chief, reckons she had serious thoughts about taking a swing at him.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Could pack quite a punch with that weight behind it,ГўВЂВ™ said Dalziel, smiling reminiscently.

ГўВЂВ?It were a set of wire cutters she was swinging. WeГўВЂВ™ve got them here, sir. Give you a real headache if these connected.ГўВЂВ™

Dalziel looked at the heavy implement and said, ГўВЂВ?Bag it and have it checked for blood.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?But no one got hurt,ГўВЂВ™ protested Headingley.

ГўВЂВ?Not here they didnГўВЂВ™t.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?You donГўВЂВ™t mean you think maybe Redcar ГўВЂВ¦ but theyГўВЂВ™re women, sir!ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?WorldГўВЂВ™s changing, George,ГўВЂВ™ said Dalziel. ГўВЂВ?So what else have you been doing, apart from collecting one statement?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Well, I had a talk with Dr Batty when I got here ГўВЂВ¦ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?He was here when you arrived?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Yes, sir. Expect that Patten rang him first. Then I got things organized outside, and I thought IГўВЂВ™d better see if we could rustle up some sort of refreshment for the ladies. I asked that fellow Howard ГўВЂВ“ he used to be one of ours ГўВЂВ“ but he said he couldnГўВЂВ™t leave the door, so I went to look for myself. Found the staff canteen, got a tea urn brewing ГўВЂВ¦ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?You must be the highest paid tea boy since Geoffrey Howe left the cabinet,ГўВЂВ™ said Dalziel. Still, at least old George knew his limitations. Why get wet and in the way outside when you had someone like Wieldy, who could organize a piss-up on a Welsh Sunday, fifty miles from the nearest brewery.

ГўВЂВ?So what now, sir?ГўВЂВ™ said Headingley. ГўВЂВ?Statements?ГўВЂВ™

Dalziel thought then said, ГўВЂВ?WalkerГўВЂВ™s the only one with owt to state and weГўВЂВ™ve got hers. Give them all their cup of tea, take details, name, address, the usual, keep it all low key and chatty, but see if you can get any of them to let on theyГўВЂВ™ve been here before.ГўВЂВ™

Headingley was looking puzzled and the Fat Man said with didactic clarity, ГўВЂВ?Tie ГўВЂВ™em in with last summerГўВЂВ™s raid here and weГўВЂВ™re well on the way to tying ГўВЂВ™em in with Redcar.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Oh yes. I see. You really think thenГўВЂВ”ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Not paid to think, George. I employ someone to think for me, and the buggerГўВЂВ™s at a funeral so weГўВЂВ™ll have to get by on our lonesome. Patten!ГўВЂВ™

Closed doors and thick walls were no sound barrier and a moment later the TecSec man appeared.

Dalziel said, ГўВЂВ?The ladies are going along to the staff canteen for refreshments then theyГўВЂВ™ll be going home. I presume youГўВЂВ™ve got all your animals locked away?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?DonГўВЂВ™t worry. They wonГўВЂВ™t get anywhere near the labs,ГўВЂВ™ said Patten confidently.

ГўВЂВ?Nay, lad, itГўВЂВ™s your men IГўВЂВ™m talking about. No more strong-arm stuff, you with me?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Because theyГўВЂВ™re female, you mean? Listen, that chunky cow, the one they call Cap, she nearly took my head off with a bloody great pair of wire cutters.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Is that right? Your head looks OK to me,ГўВЂВ™ said Dalziel examining it critically.

ГўВЂВ?No thanks to her,ГўВЂВ™ said Patten. ГўВЂВ?All IГўВЂВ™m saying is, if my men get assaulted ГўВЂВ¦ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?They should count their blessings,ГўВЂВ™ said Dalziel. ГўВЂВ?ThereГўВЂВ™s a place in Harrogate where it costs good money to get beaten up by a handsome young woman. Like the address? All right, George? Everything under control?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Yes, sir. What about you, sir?ГўВЂВ™ said George Headingley. ГўВЂВ?Where are you going to be?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Me?ГўВЂВ™ said Dalziel smacking his lips in anticipation. ГўВЂВ?IГўВЂВ™m going to be wherever Dr Batty keeps his single methanol.ГўВЂВ™

vii (#ulink_e7b77478-12c5-5dbd-b85d-0db4e27edc84)

As Pascoe drove north the following morning, the weather got worse but his mood got better. By the time he got within tuning distance of Radio Mid-Yorkshire, his car was being machine-gunned by horizontal hail, but the familiar mix of dated pops and parish pump gossip sounded in his ears like the first cuckoo of spring.

I must be turning into a Yorkshireman, he thought as he sang along with Boney M.

A newscast followed, a mixture of local and national. One item caught his attention.

ГўВЂВ?Police have confirmed the discovery last night of human remains in the grounds of Wanwood House, research headquarters of ALBA Pharmaceuticals. Tests to ascertain the cause of death are not yet complete and the police spokesman was unwilling to comment on reports that the discovery was made by a group of animal rights protesters.ГўВЂВ™

It sounded to PascoeГўВЂВ™s experienced ear that Andy Dalziel was sitting tight on this one, and with one of those mighty buttocks in your face, even the voice of nation speaking unto nation got a bit muffled.

It also confirmed him in his half-formed resolution that it was worth diverting to dispose of AdaГўВЂВ™s ashes. Dalziel believed that time off on any pretext meant you owed him a week of twenty-five-hour days. With a possible murder on his hands, heГўВЂВ™d probably raise that to thirty, particularly as Pascoe had been in sole charge of the investigation into the ALBA raid last summer. It had only merited a DCIГўВЂВ™s involvement because of the possible connection with the killing at FGГўВЂВ™s labs up at Redcar. ThereГўВЂВ™s always a certain pleasure in solving another mobГўВЂВ™s case, but Dalziel who was a good delegator had neither interfered nor complained when Pascoe had reported that the investigation was going nowhere. On the other hand Pascoe did not doubt he would be held personally responsible for not having noticed the presence of human remains out at Wanwood even if they turned out to have been buried six feet under!

So, dispose of Ada, else the urn could end up sitting on his mantelpiece for some time, and his guess was that even someone as conscientiously house-humble as Ellie would draw the line at such an hydriotaphic ornament.

Leeds was only a little out of his way. With luck he could be in and out in half an hour.

This pious hope died in a one-way system as unforgiving as a posting to the Western Front. Even when he arrived where he wanted to be, where he wanted to be didnГўВЂВ™t seem to be there any more. At least the hail had stopped and the blustery wind was tearing holes in the cloud big enough for the occasional ray of sun to penetrate.

He pulled into the car park of a pile-ГўВЂВ™em-high-sell-ГўВЂВ™em-cheap supermarket and addressed an apparently shell-shocked old man in charge of a convoy of errant trolleys.

ГўВЂВ?Is this Kirkton Road?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Aye,ГўВЂВ™ said the man.

ГўВЂВ?IГўВЂВ™m looking for the West Yorkshire FusiliersГўВЂВ™ barracks.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?YouГўВЂВ™ve missed it,ГўВЂВ™ said the man.

ГўВЂВ?Oh God. You mean itГўВЂВ™s back along there,ГўВЂВ™ said Pascoe unhappily regarding the one-way street he had just with such pain negotiated.

ГўВЂВ?Nay, youГўВЂВ™ve missed it by more ГўВЂВ™n ten years. Wyfies amalgamated wiГўВЂВ™ South Yorks Rifles way back. Shifted to their barracks in Sheffield. Call themselves the Yorkshire Fusiliers now. War Office sold this site for development.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Bugger,ГўВЂВ™ said Pascoe.

AdaГўВЂВ™s wishes were precise if curious. My ashes should be taken by the executor of my will and scattered around the Headquarters of the West Yorkshire Fusiliers in Kirkton Road, Leeds.

Knowing her feelings about the army, Pascoe did not doubt that her motive was derisory. She would probably have liked to leave instructions that the urn was to be hurled through a window but knew she would need to moderate her gesture if she hoped to have it carried out. But moderation must surely stop a long way short of being scattered in a car park!

ГўВЂВ?MuseumГўВЂВ™s still here but,ГўВЂВ™ said the man, happy to extend this interruption of his tedious task.

ГўВЂВ?Where?ГўВЂВ™ said Pascoe hopefully.

ГўВЂВ?Yon place.ГўВЂВ™

The man pointed to a tall narrow granite building standing at the far end of the car park, glaring with military scorn at the Scandinavian ski-lodge frivolity of the supermarket.

ГўВЂВ?Thanks,ГўВЂВ™ said Pascoe.

He drove towards the museum and parked before it. Close up the building looked even more as if it had been bulled, boxed and blancoГўВЂВ™d ready for inspection. Pascoe collected the urn from the boot, scuffed his feet on the tarmac to make sure he wasnГўВЂВ™t tracking any dirt, and went up the steps.

The lintel bore a mahogany board on which was painted a badge consisting of a white rose under a fleur-de-lis, with beneath it WEST YORKSHIRE FUSILIERS ГўВЂВ“ Regimental Museum. The paint was fresh and bright, the brass door knob gleamed like a sergeant majorГўВЂВ™s eye, and even the letter box had a military sharpness which probably terrified any pacifist postmen.

Pascoe turned the knob, checked to be sure he hadnГўВЂВ™t left fingerprints, and entered.

He found himself in a large high-ceilinged room, lined with display cabinets and hung with tattered flags. It was brightly lit and impeccably clean, but that didnГўВЂВ™t stop the air from being musty with the smell of old unhappy far-off things and battles long ago.

Pascoe moved swiftly through a series of smaller rooms without finding any survivors. He even tried calling aloud but there was no response.

Sod it! he thought. The absence of witnesses should be making things a lot easier. All he had to do was scatter and scarper! But somehow, even without a witness, the thought of sullying these immaculate surfaces with powdered Ada was hard for an obsessively tidy man. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust ГўВЂВ¦ but there had to be some old dust for the new dust to go to!

He tried a pinch in the darkest corner he could find but it stood out like a smear of coke on a nunГўВЂВ™s moustache. Finally he settled on a fireplace. Even this looked to have been untroubled by coal for a hundred years, and the Victorian fire irons which flanked it stood as neat and shiny as weapons in an armoury. But it must have known ash in its time. And what after all was this philopolemic building but a mausoleum in need of a body?

His conscience thus quietened, Pascoe unscrewed the top of the urn, took out a handful of dust, examined it for fear, found it, and with an atavistic prayer, threw it into the grate.

ГўВЂВ?What the hell do you think youГўВЂВ™re playing at?ГўВЂВ™ demanded an outraged voice.

He turned his head and looked up at a tall grey-haired man wearing an indignant expression, a piratical eye patch and a hairy tweed jacket with the right sleeve pinned emptily across the breast.

Time, thought Pascoe, for the disarming smile, particularly as the manГўВЂВ™s present hand was pointing what looked like a flintlock pistol very steadily at his head.

ГўВЂВ?You may find this a trifle hard to believe,ГўВЂВ™ said Pascoe. ГўВЂВ?But I do hope you are going to try.ГўВЂВ™

viii (#ulink_f378cb9f-fae7-507b-ade6-07b7712a9c95)

It was clear that Troll LongbottomГўВЂВ™s forecast was right. These bones were going to be a long time coming.

The drenching dark which had finally made them abandon the hunt the previous night had been replaced by fitful sunlight, but visibility did little to make the job more attractive.

ГўВЂВ?Could lose a man down there,ГўВЂВ™ said Wield looking down into the water-filled crater.

ГўВЂВ?I can think of a couple weГўВЂВ™d not miss,ГўВЂВ™ said Dalziel. ГўВЂВ?Even if we pump it out, the mudГўВЂВ™s going to be a problem.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?The lads last night reported a lot of big granite slabs,ГўВЂВ™ said Wield. ГўВЂВ?They should give us something to work from. But youГўВЂВ™re right. We could spend more time digging each other out than old bones.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Same thing in my case,ГўВЂВ™ said Dalziel. ГўВЂВ?Good God, have you got a twin or what?ГўВЂВ™

This last was to Troll Longbottom who was edging his way towards them along the duckboards.

ГўВЂВ?Just thought IГўВЂВ™d check to see if you had anything more for me yet,ГўВЂВ™ he said with a smile which wouldnГўВЂВ™t have looked out of place at a pirate masthead.

ГўВЂВ?Oh aye?ГўВЂВ™ said Dalziel. ГўВЂВ?If theyГўВЂВ™d asked you to take a look at Julius sodding Caesar, youГўВЂВ™d have told ГўВЂВ™em to wait till they invented the video camera. So how come twice in twelve hours IГўВЂВ™ve found you up to your fetlocks in clart, breathing fresh air?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Friendship, Andy. Friendship.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Well thanks a lot, Troll. I didnГўВЂВ™t realize you cared.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Not for you,ГўВЂВ™ said the pathologist with a grimace not so different from his smile. ГўВЂВ?For David Batty.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?WhatГўВЂВ™s that mean? You shagging his missus or something?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Or something, Andy. So, anything more for me to look at?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Give us a chance! And did you not get plenty last night? Thought all you needed for a life history was a fingernail and a pinch of belly-button fluff.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?You flatter me,ГўВЂВ™ said Longbottom. ГўВЂВ?But I do need just a little more in order to confirm my preliminary dating.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?YouГўВЂВ™ve got a dating? WhyГўВЂВ™d you not say so? Come on, letГўВЂВ™s hear it.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?I should say from what IГўВЂВ™ve seen so far that the remains were certainly more than five years old.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?More than five?ГўВЂВ™ echoed Dalziel in disgust. ГўВЂВ?Is that the best you can manage? IГўВЂВ™ve got lads just out of training could have come up with that!ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Well, it was mainly monosyllabic, wasnГўВЂВ™t it? What I really need is a jawbone. You can tell a lot from dental work. And a bit of flesh would be a real godsend.ГўВЂВ™

He spoke with such enthusiasm that Dalziel laughed.

ГўВЂВ?Tell you what, Troll,ГўВЂВ™ he said. ГўВЂВ?If I were you, IГўВЂВ™d turn vegetarian.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?And I you,ГўВЂВ™ said the pathologist elliptically, prodding the Fat ManГўВЂВ™s gut. ГўВЂВ?Now I must be off. Some of us have work to do.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?IГўВЂВ™ll be in touch,ГўВЂВ™ bellowed Dalziel after him, then turning to Wield he asked, ГўВЂВ?So, what do you think?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Bit of mutual backscratching?ГўВЂВ™ suggested Wield. ГўВЂВ?This BattyГўВЂВ™s not just Research Director, heГўВЂВ™s the son and heir of Thomas Batty who owns the whole company. Useful contact for Mr Longbottom.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?DonГўВЂВ™t use a lot of drugs when your specialtyГўВЂВ™s dead ГўВЂВ™uns,ГўВЂВ™ objected Dalziel.

ГўВЂВ?I think youГўВЂВ™ll find Mr LongbottomГўВЂВ™s an influential man on his NHS TrustГўВЂВ™s governing body, sir. Also I hear heГўВЂВ™s got a twenty-per-cent share in that new private hospital on the Scarborough Road.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?By God, Wieldy, I thought mebbe life out among the turnip tops were turning you soft, but now I see itГўВЂВ™s turning you cynical!ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?I just state the facts, sir,ГўВЂВ™ said Wield. ГўВЂВ?And hereГўВЂВ™s another. ALBA, as Mr Longbottom likely knows, have been here just four years.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Meaning TrollГўВЂВ™s saying the bones are at least five years old just to stress that Batty and his staff canГўВЂВ™t be in the frame? You donГўВЂВ™t reckon heГўВЂВ™s fixed the figures as a favour, do you?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?No, sir. IГўВЂВ™d mebbe not care to do business with him, but when it comes to his job, as weГўВЂВ™ve all found out, he doesnГўВЂВ™t give an inch. YouГўВЂВ™ve known him longer than anyone, but, so you must know that.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?IГўВЂВ™m afraid so, Wieldy,ГўВЂВ™ sighed Dalziel. ГўВЂВ?Pity though. If I thought heГўВЂВ™d stretched it to five for Batty, IГўВЂВ™d have made bloody sure he stretched it to fifty for me. Still, itГўВЂВ™s early days. Mebbe itГўВЂВ™ll still turn out to be archaeology. IГўВЂВ™m off to have another word with Batty, tell him the good news.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?I bet youГўВЂВ™ll find Mr LongbottomГўВЂВ™s told him already,ГўВЂВ™ said Wield.

ГўВЂВ?Very like, but one thing youГўВЂВ™re forgetting, Wieldy.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Yes, sir?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?The wanker keeps a nice drop of malt. See about getting this water shifted, will you?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?My pleasure,ГўВЂВ™ said Sergeant Wield.

This morning there was a receptionist on duty in the hessian-hung hall. She informed Dalziel that the director was in the labs but would no doubt make himself available as soon as was convenient. Meanwhile if the superintendent cared to take a seat ГўВЂВ¦

Ex-Constable Howard was hovering behind her. HeГўВЂВ™d changed his burnt trousers but looked pretty bleary eyed.

ГўВЂВ?Working you hard, arenГўВЂВ™t they?ГўВЂВ™ said Dalziel sympathetically.

ГўВЂВ?Bit short staffed, sir. Also Dr Batty wanted extra men on duty.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Someone should tell him about stable doors. Someone like me. Take me to the labs, lad.ГўВЂВ™

Without hesitation, Howard opened one of the doors and led the way through pursued by the receptionistГўВЂВ™s indignant twitter.

To DalzielГўВЂВ™s inexpert eye, the lab he entered looked like a cross between a small menagerie and a high-class bog. BattyГўВЂВ™s features crinkled in a frown when he saw Dalziel but cleared almost immediately. HeГўВЂВ™d learned quickly ГўВЂВ“ probably coached by Longbottom ГўВЂВ“ that you didnГўВЂВ™t trade blows with the Fat Man, not unless youГўВЂВ™d got a horseshoe up your boxing glove. Last night heГўВЂВ™d poured the Scotch with a generous hand and theyГўВЂВ™d parted on excellent terms which didnГўВЂВ™t prevent either from heartily despising the other.

ГўВЂВ?Andy,ГўВЂВ™ he said. ГўВЂВ?Good morning. Any news?ГўВЂВ™

Nowt the Troll wonГўВЂВ™t have told you already, thought Dalziel. And nowt that a drop of the Caledonian cream wouldnГўВЂВ™t improve.

ГўВЂВ?Just thought IГўВЂВ™d let you know weГўВЂВ™ll be working out there most of the day, IГўВЂВ™m afraid. Good news is them bones were likely here when your company took the place over, so I shouldnГўВЂВ™t have to bother your staff.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Excellent. WeГўВЂВ™re very busy at the moment so could ill afford an interruption. And, Andy, I must compliment you on the way youГўВЂВ™ve handled the media. Hardly a mention this morning. Our PR Department are very impressed. Many thanks both personally and on behalf of ALBA.ГўВЂВ™

Dalziel smiled with false modesty. False, not because he hadnГўВЂВ™t called in a lot of favours and up a lot of threats to minimize response to all the phone calls Marvell had made as soon as she got home, but because he permitted this twat to go on thinking it had anything to do with him or his sodding company.

ГўВЂВ?When weГўВЂВ™ve got a closer dating weГўВЂВ™ll need to look back at the history of the house,ГўВЂВ™ he said.

ГўВЂВ?Anything we can do to help, youГўВЂВ™ve just got to ask,ГўВЂВ™ said Batty. ГўВЂВ?As I explained last night, all the records will be stored at Kirkton of course.ГўВЂВ™

Kirkton, an industrial suburb of Leeds, was ALBAГўВЂВ™s home base. Here the company had begun and grown, developing into a large rambling complex which Batty (once the truce had been struck the previous night) had described as a security nightmare. ГўВЂВ?As I explained to your chap who came out when we had that first lot of bother in the summer, Pascoe his name was I think, seemed a very decent kind of fellowГўВЂВ™ ГўВЂВ“ his faintly surprised tone had not passed unremarked ГўВЂВ“ ГўВЂВ?the reason we decided to move our research labs was because they were far too vulnerable at HQ. Chap from some animal mag just strolled right in and started taking pictures. Bloody cheek! So we decided to move out here, lock, stock, and barrel. It had been used as a hospital or clinic or something for years, so that was a step in the right direction and it meant we could give the impression that all the refurbishment and extension work had something to do with resuming its old function.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Oh aye,ГўВЂВ™ Dalziel had interrupted. ГўВЂВ?With no one knowing what was going off but a few lawyers, and all the contractors, and your own staff members and every bugger living in a radius of ten miles, I can see how you mightГўВЂВ™ve hoped to keep it quiet.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Put like that it does sound a touch optimistic,ГўВЂВ™ laughed Batty. ГўВЂВ?But we left a token presence in the Kirkton labs to fool the activistsГўВЂВ™ spies, and for nearly four years it seemed to work. Must have lulled us, I suppose. Then bang! Suddenly last summer the loonies got in and really made a mess of things. ThatГўВЂВ™s when I realized that being remote and isolated was an advantage only till they winkled you out. Moving again clearly wasnГўВЂВ™t a solution. So we got a new security company in and gave them the brief to make us secure. The results you have seen.ГўВЂВ™

He had spoken complacently. Dalziel had kept his own thoughts about those results to himself. No point in rowing with a fellow who had a half-full bottle of Glenmorangie at his elbow.

It had been empty by the time he left, but heГўВЂВ™d noticed an unopened one in the cabinet Batty had taken his glass from. The memory rose before him now like a vision of the Holy Grail. He coughed he hoped thirstily and said, ГўВЂВ?Now youГўВЂВ™ve had a chance to clear up, did that lot last night do much damage when they ran loose inside?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Not a lot and mainly superficial,ГўВЂВ™ said Batty. ГўВЂВ?But itГўВЂВ™s good of you to be concerned.ГўВЂВ™

All this gratitude undiluted by a dram was beginning to grate a bit. Wield had entered the lab. He caught DalzielГўВЂВ™s eye and gave a minute shake of his head to indicate he wanted a word but it wasnГўВЂВ™t desperate.

Dalziel said, ГўВЂВ?What IГўВЂВ™m really concerned about is making sure these arenГўВЂВ™t the same lot who were running riot in the summer.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Oh thatГўВЂВ™s all behind us now,ГўВЂВ™ said Batty dismissively. ГўВЂВ?We learnt our lesson. LetГўВЂВ™s stick with the present, shall we?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Might be behind you,ГўВЂВ™ said Dalziel magisterially. ГўВЂВ?Not behind the family of that poor sod who got himself killed up at Redcar. Fraser Greenleaf. Same line of business as you only a lot bigger. IГўВЂВ™d have thought youГўВЂВ™d have heard of them.ГўВЂВ™

For a second Batty allowed himself to look irritated, then his face assumed a solemn air and he said, ГўВЂВ?Of course. I wasnГўВЂВ™t thinking. But do you really believe there might be a connection with these people?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?CanГўВЂВ™t ignore the possibility, sir.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Of course not. Good lord. Women. WhatГўВЂВ™s the world coming to?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?WeГўВЂВ™re a long way from proving a connection,ГўВЂВ™ said Dalziel. ГўВЂВ?What about you? Made up your mind about prosecuting yet?ГўВЂВ™

Batty smiled and shrugged.

ГўВЂВ?Like I said, not up to me. Head office decision. I know what IГўВЂВ™d do, but IГўВЂВ™m just a poor scientist.ГўВЂВ™

Who also, if Wield was right, happened to be a member of ALBAГўВЂВ™s ruling family. Which probably meant they werenГўВЂВ™t going to prosecute, but Batty wanted to distance himself from a decision heГўВЂВ™d opposed.

Sharp bugger this, thought Dalziel. But not sharp enough to see there was a man dying of thirst in front of him!

Wield meanwhile was taking a tour round the lab, looking at the caged animals with a distaste not even his rugose features could disguise.

He watched as a radiantly beautiful young woman in a radiantly white lab coat picked up a tiny monkey which threw its arms round her neck in a baby-like need for reassurance. Expertly she disengaged it, turned it over and plunged a hypodermic into the base of its spine.

ГўВЂВ?Ouch,ГўВЂВ™ said Wield. ГўВЂВ?DoesnГўВЂВ™t that hurt?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Done properly, the animal hardly feels it,ГўВЂВ™ she reassured him.

He glanced at her security badge which told him he was speaking to Jane Ambler. Research Assistant.

ГўВЂВ?No, Jane,ГўВЂВ™ he said amiably. ГўВЂВ?It was you I meant.ГўВЂВ™

She regarded him dispassionately and said, ГўВЂВ?Oh dear. Perhaps before you come on so judgmental, you should talk to someone with rheumatoid arthritis.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?OK,ГўВЂВ™ said Wield.

He stooped to the cage, pushed his finger through the mesh and made soothing guttural noises to the tiny beast. Then he straightened up.

ГўВЂВ?HeГўВЂВ™s against it,ГўВЂВ™ he said.

He found he was talking to Dalziel.

ГўВЂВ?When youГўВЂВ™re done feeding the animals, sergeant, mebbe we can have a word.ГўВЂВ™

The Fat Man led the way through the reception area where the receptionist was still sulking. He gave her a big smile and nodded at Howard whoГўВЂВ™d snapped to attention.

Outside Wield said, ГўВЂВ?That TecSec man, donГўВЂВ™t I know him?ГўВЂВ™

Dalziel, used to being upstaged by his sergeantГўВЂВ™s encyclopaedic knowledge of the dustiest corners of Mid-Yorkshire, was not displeased to be able to reply negligently, ГўВЂВ?Oh aye. But not the way youГўВЂВ™re thinking. He were one of ours, uniformed out at Dartleby till he took early retirement and got himself privatized. Thinking of following suit, lad?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Not more than once a day, sir. Howard. Oh yes. Jimmy Howard. DidnГўВЂВ™t so much take retirement as had it force-fed, if I remember right.ГўВЂВ™

Dalziel, who took too much pride in WieldГўВЂВ™s internet mind to be a bad loser, said, ГўВЂВ?You usually do. So fill me in.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?There was talk he was on the take, but before it got anywhere, he were picked up driving over the limit. Got himself a soft quack who gave him a note saying job stress, and no one stood in his way when he went for medical retirement with pension afore the case came up and he got kicked out without.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?And the other? Being on the take?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Well, nowt was proved. But heГўВЂВ™s a hard-betting man and those who saw him at the races reckoned he couldnГўВЂВ™t be losing that much on a constableГўВЂВ™s take-home. Makes you wonder, donГўВЂВ™t it?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Wonder what, Wieldy?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Did TecSec not know about him? Or did they know and take him on despite? Or did they know and take him on because?ГўВЂВ™

Dalziel shook his head admiringly.

ГўВЂВ?ThatГўВЂВ™s a really nasty mind youГўВЂВ™ve got there, Wieldy. Any reason other than natural prejudice?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?It was you who said private security companies are guilty till proven innocent, sir,ГўВЂВ™ said Wield reproachfully. ГўВЂВ?IГўВЂВ™ve not seen much of this lot, but thereГўВЂВ™s something about them doesnГўВЂВ™t sit right.ГўВЂВ™

Dalziel regarded him thoughtfully. A Wield uneasiness was not something to be dismissed lightly.

ГўВЂВ?All right,ГўВЂВ™ he said. ГўВЂВ?Take a closer look. Let on itГўВЂВ™s these animal libbers weГўВЂВ™re interested in, how they acted when they got into the building last night. Which we are.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Right, sir. But it doesnГўВЂВ™t sound to me like ALBA will be prosecuting.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Big ears youГўВЂВ™ve got. Listen, lad. No one tells me when to stop looking. And IГўВЂВ™ll keep this ANIMA bunch in view till IГўВЂВ™m completely satisfied thereГўВЂВ™s no link with Redcar.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?You donГўВЂВ™t really think there could be a connection, sir?ГўВЂВ™ said Wield dubiously. ГўВЂВ?I mean from whatГўВЂВ™s known about this lot, theyГўВЂВ™re at the soft end of the movement.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?First rule of this job is, take nowt on trust,ГўВЂВ™ said the Fat Man sternly. ГўВЂВ?Keep your eye on the ball and youГўВЂВ™ll not buy any dummies.ГўВЂВ™

This struck Wield as a bit rich when he recalled from DalzielГўВЂВ™s complaint last night at not having been warned of the gender of the protesters that the main thing he seemed to have kept his eye on, and which he mentioned at least three times in the sergeantГўВЂВ™s mitigation, was Amanda MarvellГўВЂВ™s knockers.

He said, ГўВЂВ?IГўВЂВ™ll make a note of that,ГўВЂВ™ not bothering to muffle the sarcasm.

Dalziel snorted in exasperation and said, ГўВЂВ?All right, so whatГўВЂВ™s going off? Toad-licking season started early in Brigadoon, has it?ГўВЂВ™

This was DalzielГўВЂВ™s name for Enscombe.

ГўВЂВ?Sorry, sir?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Jokes last night, and back there you were coming over like the press agent for disadvantaged chimps. So whatГўВЂВ™s it all mean?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?I donГўВЂВ™t much like what theyГўВЂВ™re doing there,ГўВЂВ™ admitted Wield. ГўВЂВ?Sorry. I know I should keep my neb out.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Bloody right you should. Public needs protecting from a neb like yours. Any road, what was it you came in to tell me? You realize IГўВЂВ™ve come out of there as thirsty as I went in, so it had better be important.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Not really, sir. Control came through on the radio. Said that woman in charge of the ANIMA lot, whatГўВЂВ™s her name? Marbles ГўВЂВ¦? Movables ГўВЂВ¦?ГўВЂВ™

Wield forgetting a name was as likely as the Godfather forgetting a grudge, but Dalziel found himself saying, ГўВЂВ?Marvell,ГўВЂВ™ before he could stop himself.

ГўВЂВ?ThatГўВЂВ™s right. Seems she called in at the station, wanted to see you to make a statement. Could be youГўВЂВ™re right, sir, and sheГўВЂВ™s come to confess.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Oh aye? Well, she had her chance to confess last night,ГўВЂВ™ said Dalziel. ГўВЂВ?Let her wait. She can sit around till she gets piles.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Oh sheГўВЂВ™s not sitting around, sir. When she found you werenГўВЂВ™t there, she took off. Said for you to call at her flat, it ГўВЂВ™ud be more comfortable there anyway. Says not to worry about turning up at lunch time as she can easily rustle up a snack. You want the address, sir?ГўВЂВ™

All this was said absolutely deadpan, and pans didnГўВЂВ™t come any deader than WieldГўВЂВ™s. But Dalziel was not fooled.

ГўВЂВ?No, I donГўВЂВ™t want the bloody address,ГўВЂВ™ he snarled. ГўВЂВ?And just because you look like the man in the iron mask, donГўВЂВ™t imagine I canГўВЂВ™t see youГўВЂВ™re smirking!ГўВЂВ™

He strode away. And Wield, his smirk now externalized, watched him go, thinking, and just because you look like a rhino in retreat, donГўВЂВ™t imagine I canГўВЂВ™t see youГўВЂВ™re horny!

ix (#ulink_f0c3c3c3-57f8-5fa8-a03d-6526ea0e7a38)

In a long narrow office as chaotic as the museum was neat, Pascoe drank strong tea with Major Hilary Studholme.

The major had listened to PascoeГўВЂВ™s story with an attention as undiverted as his pistol. With a mental moue of apology in the direction of Ada, Pascoe had felt it better in the circumstances not to explicate her probable motives, and though stopping well short of any direct assertion of regimental pride, it was as nothing to the distance he stayed from even a hint of paranoiac loathing.

The production of his police ID finally convinced the major he was neither a dangerous lunatic nor a bomb-planting terrorist.

As Pascoe sipped his tea, the major riffled through a couple of leather-bound volumes with a dexterity remarkable in a man with only a left hand.

ГўВЂВ?Odd,ГўВЂВ™ he said. ГўВЂВ?Pascoe rings a definite bell, but thereГўВЂВ™s no record of an NCO of that name buying it at Ypres in 1917. Could have lost his stripe, of course. ThereГўВЂВ™s a Private Stephen Pascoe got wounded ГўВЂВ¦ could that be a connection, do you think?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?I doubt it,ГўВЂВ™ said Pascoe. ГўВЂВ?Point is, it wonГўВЂВ™t be Pascoe, will it?ГўВЂВ™

The single eye regarded him blankly, then the upper lip spasmed in a silly-ass grimace which laid the hairs of his moustache horizontal and he said, ГўВЂВ?Sorry. Mind seeping out through my eye socket. Of course Pascoe would be your grandmotherГўВЂВ™s married name. So, what was her maiden name?ГўВЂВ™

Pascoe thought then said, ГўВЂВ?Clark, I think.ГўВЂВ™

Studholme grimaced. ГўВЂВ?Got a hatful of Clarks in here,ГўВЂВ™ he said, patting the leather-bound books. ГўВЂВ?With an ГўВЂВњeГўВЂВќ or without? Got an initial?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Sorry,ГўВЂВ™ said Pascoe. ГўВЂВ?All I know about him is thereГўВЂВ™s a photo with him showing off a lance corporalГўВЂВ™s stripe with the date 1914, then a scrawl, presumably my great-grandmotherГўВЂВ™s, saying Killed Wipers 1917. That puzzles me a bit. I thought the big battle at Ypres was earlier in the war.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Oh yes? If thatГўВЂВ™s the limit of an educated manГўВЂВ™s knowledge, Mr Pascoe, just imagine the ignorance of most of your fellow cits!ГўВЂВ™

Pascoe found himself ready to bridle. Studholme with his bristly moustache, clipped accent and sturdy tweeds, looked a prototypical member of the British officer class which liberal tradition characterized as snobbish, philistine, and intellectually challenged, not at all the kind of person a young(ish) Guardian-reading graduate, who could get Radio 3 and sometimes did, ought to let himself be lectured by.

On the other hand as a public servant in a police force threatened with radical restructuring, it would be impolitic as well as impolite to get up the nose of a war hero.

ГўВЂВ?I know what most educated people know about the Great War, major,ГўВЂВ™ he said carefully. ГўВЂВ?That even by strict military standards, it was an exercise in futility unprecedented and unsurpassed.ГўВЂВ™

Shit, that had come out a bit stronger than intended.

ГўВЂВ?Bravo,ГўВЂВ™ said Studholme surprisingly. ГўВЂВ?ThatГўВЂВ™s a start. Let me fill in a bit of detail. The first battle of Ypres took place in October and November 1914. British losses about fifty thousand, including the greater part of the prewar regular army. First Ypres marked the end of anything that could be called open warfare. During the winter both sides concentrated on fortifying their defences and after that it was trench warfare from the North Sea to the Swiss border till 1918.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?So why was Ypres so important?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?It was the centre of a salient, a considerable bulge in the line. A breakthrough there would have enabled the Allies to roll up the Boche in both directions. Disadvantage of course was that a salient means the enemy can lob shells at you from three sides. Service in the Salient was not something our lads looked forward to even before Passchendaele. My father managed to be in both Ypres Two and Ypres Three. He used to say there was always a special feel about the Salient even at relatively quiet times. Its landscape was more depressing, the stink of its mud more nauseating, its skies more lowering. You felt as you left Ypres by the Menin Gate that it should have borne a sign reading ГўВЂВњAll Hope Abandon Ye Who Enter HereГўВЂВќ.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Sounds like the entrance to CID on a Monday morning,ГўВЂВ™ said Pascoe with a forced lightness.

ГўВЂВ?No, I donГўВЂВ™t think so,ГўВЂВ™ said Studholme regarding him gravely. ГўВЂВ?My father said that service there changed human nature. You reverted to a kind of subhumanity, the missing link between the apes and Homo sapiens. He called it Homo Saliens, Salient Man. I donГўВЂВ™t think he was joking.ГўВЂВ™

Pascoe drank his tea. He felt the need for warmth. It was very quiet in here. The supermarket car park seemed a thousand miles away.

He said, ГўВЂВ?So what happened at Ypres Two?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Spring of ГўВЂВ™15. Jerry made a determined effort to get things straight. Used chlorine gas for the first time. Gained a bit of ground but the Salient remained. Our casualties about sixty thousand including one general, Horace Smith-Dorrien.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?That must have really got them worried back home,ГўВЂВ™ said Pascoe, drifting despite himself towards a sneer. ГўВЂВ?I mean, whatГўВЂВ™s a few thousand men here or there, but a dead general ГўВЂВ¦ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Not dead,ГўВЂВ™ said Studholme. ГўВЂВ?Stellenbosched. That is, sacked. Terrible offence. Competence.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Sorry?ГўВЂВ™ said Pascoe, thinking heГўВЂВ™d misheard.

ГўВЂВ?He was actually in the thick of things and made judgments based on realities. Also he was foolish enough to suggest to French, the C-in-C, that they were losing too many men in pointless frontal attacks. There arenГўВЂВ™t many other recorded expressions of doubt by top brass, I tell you.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?No wonder, if you got sacked for it.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Indeed. Now, jump forward two years to 1917. Third Ypres, your great-grandfatherГўВЂВ™s battle. You probably know it as Passchendaele.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Good God, yes. The mud.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?ThatГўВЂВ™s right. Everyone remembers the mud. One of manГўВЂВ™s worst nightmares, a slow drowning in glutinous filth. Practically a metaphor for the whole conduct of the war.ГўВЂВ™

Pascoe was now regarding Studholme with wide-eyed interest.

ГўВЂВ?You donГўВЂВ™t sound like a member of Douglas HaigГўВЂВ™s fan club, major.ГўВЂВ™

Studholme gave a snort like a rifle shot.

He said, ГўВЂВ?When they finally got rid of Sir John French at the end of ГўВЂВ™15, it was as if his main fault was not killing off his own men quickly enough. So what they looked for was a general whoГўВЂВ™d get the job done quicker. French had slain his ten thousands, but Haig was soon slaying his hundred thousands, nearly half a million on the Somme and now another quarter million at Passchendaele. Of course Third Wipers went down as a victory. They gained six or seven miles of mud. Imagine a column of men, twenty-five abreast, stretching out over those six or seven miles, and youГўВЂВ™re looking at the British dead. Bit different from Agincourt, eh?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Tell me, major,ГўВЂВ™ said Pascoe curiously. ГўВЂВ?Feeling like this, how come you took the job of looking after a military museum? In fact, how come you got started on a military career at all?ГўВЂВ™

For a moment he thought heГўВЂВ™d gone too far. The major was regarding him once more with the flintlock gleam in his eye. Then he sipped his tea, brushed his moustache, smiled faintly and said, ГўВЂВ?How come a bright young fellow like you went into the police? Was it the bribes or the chance to beat up suspects that attracted you?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?TouchГѓВ©,ГўВЂВ™ said Pascoe. ГўВЂВ?And apologies for my youthful impudence.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Accepted. Now IГўВЂВ™ll answer you. I joined the army ГўВЂВ™cos way back about the time of Waterloo, someone decided that the only way to make anything out of my line of Studholmes was to get ГўВЂВ™em into uniform and send ГўВЂВ™em out for foreigners to shoot at. No oneГўВЂВ™s come up with a viable alternative since, so on we go, generation after generation, providing moving targets. Rarely get beyond my rank, though my father made colonel. Shot from being a subaltern in ГўВЂВ™15 to major, acting lieutenant colonel in ГўВЂВ™18. That was one plus for that show ГўВЂВ“ lots of scope for accelerated promotion. If you survived.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Nice to know someone did,ГўВЂВ™ said Pascoe.

ГўВЂВ?Oh yes, he had a talent for it. Lived to be ninety. Still working on his memoirs when he died. I told him heГўВЂВ™d left it a bit late, but he said no point in starting till you were pretty sure you were past doing anything worth remembering.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Sounds as if theyГўВЂВ™d make interesting reading,ГўВЂВ™ said Pascoe. ГўВЂВ?Talking of which, is there anything youГўВЂВ™d recommend to start remedying my immense ignorance about the Great War?ГўВЂВ™

The major looked at him with one-eyed keenness to see if he was taking the piss. Then selecting a volume from the bookshelf behind him he said, ГўВЂВ?This is about as good a general introduction as youГўВЂВ™ll get. After that, if you develop a taste for horror, you can specialize.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Thank you,ГўВЂВ™ said Pascoe, taking the book. ГўВЂВ?IГўВЂВ™ll return it, of course.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Damn right you will,ГўВЂВ™ said the major. ГўВЂВ?Chaps who borrow your kit and donГўВЂВ™t return it always come to a sticky end. Now letГўВЂВ™s see if we canГўВЂВ™t find somewhere a bit more suitable for your gran than a fireplace, shall we?ГўВЂВ™

He rose abruptly. As Pascoe followed him out of the office, he said, ГўВЂВ?You run a very tidy museum, sir.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?What? Oh thank you. Or do I detect an irony? Perhaps you find tidiness incompatible with a place dedicated to the glorification of war?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?All I meant wasГўВЂВ”ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?DonГўВЂВ™t lie out of politeness, please. Policemen should always speak the truth. So should museums. ThatГўВЂВ™s what I hope this one does. If it glorifies anything it is courage and service. But when the truth is that men were sacrificed needlessly, even wantonly, in the kind of battle your great-grandfather died in, a place like this mustnГўВЂВ™t flinch from saying so. We owe it to the men who died. We owe it to ourselves as professional soldiers too.ГўВЂВ™

They had entered a room at the back of the house, formerly the kitchen but now given over to an exhibition of catering equipment. Studholme pointed through the window into a small paved yard with a single circular flowerbed at its centre. It contained three brutally pruned rose bushes.

ГўВЂВ?Looks better in the summer,ГўВЂВ™ he said. ГўВЂВ?White roses surrounded by lilies. The regimental badge. Used to be an old joke. You always get a good cup of tea from the Wyfies, they even advertise in their badge. Roses, fleur-de-lis; Rosy Lee, you follow? Not a very good joke. Also new recruits are called lilies; passing out, you get your rose. Sorry. Regimental folklore. Set me off, I go on forever. What started this?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?My grandmotherГўВЂВ™s ashes,ГўВЂВ™ prompted Pascoe.

ГўВЂВ?Indeed. The rose bed. Good scattering of bonemeal wouldnГўВЂВ™t go amiss there. Or ГўВЂВ¦ГўВЂВ™ He hesitated then went on, ГўВЂВ?Just say if you think it a touch crass but down in the cellar ГўВЂВ¦ well, let me show you.ГўВЂВ™

He opened a door onto a steep flight of stone steps.

ГўВЂВ?Cold, damp and miserable down there,ГўВЂВ™ said Studholme. ГўВЂВ?CouldnГўВЂВ™t think what to do with it. Cost a fortune to cheer it up. Then I thought, why bother? Go with the flow, isnГўВЂВ™t that what they say? Not original, of course. Imperial War Museum does something similar, but I reckon for atmosphere, weГўВЂВ™ve got the edge.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?IГўВЂВ™m sorry ГўВЂВ¦?ГўВЂВ™ said Pascoe.

ГўВЂВ?My fault. Rattling on again. Bad habit. Here, take a look.ГўВЂВ™

He pressed a switch in the wall. Below lights came on, not bright modern electric lights, but the kind of dull yellow flicker that might emanate from old oil lamps. And sound too, a dull basso continuo of distant artillery overlaid from time to time by the soprano shriek of passing shells or the snare-drum stutter of machine-gun fire.

ГўВЂВ?Go down,ГўВЂВ™ urged Studholme.

Pascoe descended, and with each step felt his stomach clench as his old claustrophobia began to take its paralysing grip.

At the foot of the steps he had to duck under a rough curtain of hempen sacking and when he straightened up, he found he was standing in a First World War dugout.

There were figures here, old shop-window dummies, he guessed, now clad in khaki, but their smooth white faces werenГўВЂВ™t at all ludicrous. They were death masks, equally terrifying whether belonging to the corporal crouched over a field telephone on a makeshift table or the officer sprawled on a canvas camp bed with an open book neglected on his breast.

In the darkest corner, face turned to the wall, lay another figure with one leg completely swathed in a bloodstained bandage. Close by his foot two large rats, eyes glinting in the yellow light, seemed about to pounce.

ГўВЂВ?Jesus!ГўВЂВ™ exclaimed Pascoe, uncertain in that second if they were real or stuffed.

ГўВЂВ?Convincing, ainГўВЂВ™t they?ГўВЂВ™ said Studholme with modest pride. ГўВЂВ?Could have had the real thing down here with very little effort, but didnГўВЂВ™t want the local health snoops down on me. Everything you see is authentic. Kit, weapons, uniforms. All saw service on the Western Front.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Even this?ГўВЂВ™ said Pascoe indicating the sleeping officerГўВЂВ™s book.

ГўВЂВ?Oh yes. My fatherГўВЂВ™s. Not a great reader, but he told me that at that time in that place, it was a lifeline to home.ГўВЂВ™

Pascoe picked up the book.

ГўВЂВ?Good God,ГўВЂВ™ he said.

It was a copy of the original Kelmscott Press Edition of William MorrisГўВЂВ™s The Wood Beyond the World.

ГўВЂВ?What?ГўВЂВ™ said Studholme.

ГўВЂВ?This book, itГўВЂВ™s worth, I donГўВЂВ™t know, thousands maybe. You really shouldnГўВЂВ™t leave it lying around down here.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Spoken like a policeman,ГўВЂВ™ said Studholme. ГўВЂВ?DidnГўВЂВ™t realize it was valuable to anyone except me. Still, kind of johnny who comes down here isnГўВЂВ™t likely to be a sneak thief, eh?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Spoken like a soldier,ГўВЂВ™ said Pascoe opening the book and reading the inscription: To Hillie with love from Mummy Christmas 1903. It was clearly a well-thumbed and well-travelled volume. Lifeline to home, Christmas, mother, childhood ГўВЂВ¦

ГўВЂВ?Take your time,ГўВЂВ™ said Studholme. ГўВЂВ?Bit more dust round here wonГўВЂВ™t be noticed, richer dust concealed, eh? But if you feel itГўВЂВ™s too macabre, thereГўВЂВ™s always the rose bush. IГўВЂВ™ll leave you to have a think.ГўВЂВ™

He turned and vanished up the steps. Carefully Pascoe replaced the book on the dummyГўВЂВ™s chest, taking care not to touch the pale plastic hand.

ГўВЂВ?So, Gran, whatГўВЂВ™s it to be?ГўВЂВ™ he said to the urn which heГўВЂВ™d placed by the telephone. ГўВЂВ?Up there with the flowers or down here with the roots?ГўВЂВ™

HeГўВЂВ™d already made up his mind, but some pathetically macho pride prevented him from going in immediate pursuit of the major. Next moment he wished he had as one of the passing shells on the sound tape failed to pass, its scream climaxing to a huge explosion with a power of suggestion so strong that the whole cellar seemed to shake and, simultaneously, the lights went out.

Coincidence, or part of StudholmeГўВЂВ™s special effects? wondered Pascoe, desperately trying to stem the panic rising in his gut.

The telephone rang, a single long rasping burr.

His hand shot out to grab it, hit something, then found the receiver.

ГўВЂВ?Hello!ГўВЂВ™ came a voice, tinny and distant. ГўВЂВ?WhoГўВЂВ™s that?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?This is Pascoe.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Pascoe? What the hell are you doing there?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Is that you, Studholme?ГўВЂВ™ he demanded.

ГўВЂВ?DonГўВЂВ™t be an ass, man. This is Lieutenant ГўВЂВ¦ГўВЂВ™

And a voice behind him at the same time said, ГўВЂВ?Someone wanting me? Damn these lamps!ГўВЂВ™

For a moment it seemed to his disorientated and panicking mind that the voice came from the camp bed. Then a torch beam shone in his eyes and the major went on, ГўВЂВ?Sorry about this. Often happens when one of those supermarket juggernauts goes up the service road behind us. Sometimes feels like the whole damn place is coming down. Lights should be back on in a tick ГўВЂВ¦ ah, there we are.ГўВЂВ™

The pseudo oil lamps flickered back on. Pascoe blinked then looked at the dummy on the bed. It lay there with the book where heГўВЂВ™d replaced it.

Studholme said mildly, ГўВЂВ?Ringing for help?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?What?ГўВЂВ™ He realized he was still holding the telephone. ГўВЂВ?I thought it rang ГўВЂВ¦ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Does sometimes,ГўВЂВ™ said the major. ГўВЂВ?Little battery-operated random ringing device I knocked up. Helps with the atmosphere. Makes people jump, I tell you. Oh dear. Your decision or has your grandmother chosen for herself?ГўВЂВ™

Pascoe followed his gaze and saw that when heГўВЂВ™d grabbed for the phone he must have knocked the urn off the table. It had cracked open when it hit the floor and a spoor of ash marked where it had rolled a few inches.

Pascoe replaced the telephone.

ГўВЂВ?CanГўВЂВ™t argue with fate,ГўВЂВ™ he said, trying to establish control.

He picked up the urn and scattered the ashes into the corners of the dugout where, as Studholme had forecast, they blended in imperceptibly.

He felt he ought to say something. But what? It would either come out flip, or pseudo-religious, which was worse. In the end he contented himself with thinking, there you go, Ada. This world was a bit of a disappointment to you. I hope the next comes up to scratch.

It was a relief to get back to the ground floor.

Studholme said, ГўВЂВ?Got a number? IГўВЂВ™ll check through our records, see if I can get any details on your great-grandfatherГўВЂВ™s time in the regiment if you like. Or would you rather put all that behind you?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?No, IГўВЂВ™d be interested,ГўВЂВ™ said Pascoe, producing a card. ГўВЂВ?And thanks for being so helpful.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?My pleasure. Goodbye, Mr Pascoe.ГўВЂВ™

He held out his left hand. There was a momentГўВЂВ™s awkwardness as Pascoe instinctively reached for it with his right. To cover it he said, ГўВЂВ?By the way, that pistol. It wasnГўВЂВ™t really loaded, was it?ГўВЂВ™

Studholme said, ГўВЂВ?One thing my father taught me was, never point a loaded weapon at anyone youГўВЂВ™re not willing to shoot.ГўВЂВ™

It wasnГўВЂВ™t till Pascoe was driving away that it dawned on him that he still didnГўВЂВ™t know if his question had been answered or not.

x (#ulink_ca98d648-08fc-54f8-843a-096612a18250)

1982 was a key year for the Tory Party both nationally and in Mid-Yorkshire.

At its start, Margaret ThatcherГўВЂВ™s grasp of the premiership seemed rather less secure than Richard NixonГўВЂВ™s of the principles of democracy, while Amanda Pitt-Evenlode, nГѓВ©e Marvell, seemed set to be Vice President (Functions) of the Mid-Yorks Conservative Association for at least the next forty years.

Then came the Falklands War. Never (or at least not since Troy) in the field of human daftness had so many gone so far to sacrifice so much for the sake of one silly woman.

Its effect on the fortunes of the UK government is a matter of public record.

Its effect on the life of Amanda Pitt-Evenlode is less widely known.

What it came down to was this: on June 12th, 1982, she was radicalized.

Curiously it was not the news that her only son, Second Lieutenant Piers Pitt-Evenlode of the Yorkshire Fusiliers, was missing in action, believed dead, that did the trick. That came on June 7th and left her prostrate with shock and unable to register, let alone reject, the canonical comforts of her parish priest, the patriotic platitudes of her committee colleagues, or the phylogenic fortitude of her spouse, the Hon. Rupert Pitt-Evenlode, JP.

No, it was the news that Piers had been discovered alive and, apart from a few inconsequential bullet holes, well, that pricked her into life. While all around the air was full of joyful congratulation, and talk of a possible gong, and plans for the welcome-home party, all she could think of was her recent certainty that this war ГўВЂВ“ any war ГўВЂВ“ was a crime against humanity, and its attendant conclusion that those responsible for it, or supportive of it, or even indifferent to it, must therefore be war criminals.

She tried to pretend that such a certainty should crumble in face of her sonГўВЂВ™s survival, but found she couldnГўВЂВ™t keep it up.

Other womenГўВЂВ™s sons had fallen without being raised from the grave. How then could she be so arrogant as to assert the health of her own boy as the sole yardstick?

She tried to talk about her feelings with those she felt closest to, and found herself once again prayed over and patronized, and finally pushed towards a very fashionable psychiatrist whoГўВЂВ™d done wonders for Binky BullmainГўВЂВ™s nervous flatulence.

Piers himself, far from being the hoped-for confidant, took to the role of bemedalled hero like a blowfly to dead meat and clearly regarded any hint of her new anxieties as a personal slur.

But still she looked for ways to adapt her new-found self to her family, her social circle and her political party, and still she found herself rejected like a new heart in an old body.

So she resigned from all of them.

The old Amanda Pitt-Evenlode felt a slight pang that the sighs which marked her passing contained as much relief as sorrow.

The new Mandy Marvell didnГўВЂВ™t give a toss.

She had married at seventeen, borne Piers at eighteen, and spent the next two decades performing all the duties proper to a woman of her husbandГўВЂВ™s status in society. This meant that while tennis, golf and swimming kept her body in pretty good shape, her mind had fewer demands made upon it than would have stretched the ratiocinative powers of a footballerГўВЂВ™s parrot.

Now she found that one thought led to another in a most delightful way. Happily her father had died before succeeding in his avowed intent of dissipating all the wealth his father had so assiduously accrued, leaving Mandy with a sufficient private income to be able to live comfortably while at the same time paying the divorce settlement from Pitt-Evenlode straight into the coffers of various excellent charities. Her time and energy she gave generously too, but she did not miss any chance of proving all the pleasures which the hills and valleys, dales and fields, of her quiet country existence had failed to yield. She popped and snorted, drank and smoked; she read, wrote, painted and performed; she travelled widely and tried most alternatives from the religious to the medicinal.

For ten years she overwhelmed herself in experience and at this crowded decadeГўВЂВ™s end she found that all she retained any real enthusiasm for was Mexican beer, the songs of Gustav Mahler, and straight sex. She even found sheГўВЂВ™d gone off the poor a bit, not in particular, but as an insoluble symptom of humanityГўВЂВ™s shittiness. Fifty was approaching fast. She wanted to do something she could see getting done. But what?

It had occurred to her from time to time as interesting though hardly significant that her strongest memories of life with the Hon. Rupert involved animals rather than people. They had started even, but as the humans faded, the beasts came into ever clearer focus. Now ten years on, with the Hon. reduced to little more than a long nose under a silly hat, she could still recall the exact disposition of the dark spots on a pair of Dalmatians called Aggers and Staggers sheГўВЂВ™d been given on her twentieth birthday. An upwardly mobile farm cat trying to ingratiate itself into smoked-salmon circles with gifts of moles and shrews was clearer to her than the infant Piers; and while she couldnГўВЂВ™t have sworn to the HonГўВЂВ™s private parts in a line-up, the splendid equipment of Balzac, the estateГўВЂВ™s prize Charolais, was as detailed in her mind as if etched there by Stubbs.

She explained this to her current lover, an American evangelist, on their last night together before he bore his burden of souls and shekels home.

ГўВЂВ?This is your heart bleeping you, Cap. Pick up that phone and get in touch with base.ГўВЂВ™

His phraseology made her wince, but against that she set the pleasure she derived from his habit of crying ГўВЂВ?HALLELUJAH!ГўВЂВ™ at the moment of climax. And when he had gone she spoke to her heart.

Animals, her heart answered, were the unacknowledged legislators of mankind. They showed fortitude in adversity and temperance in prosperity. They had no need of prisons, nor did they prey on their own kind. Therefore the way humans treated them was the touchstone of their humanity.

To conclude was to act. Six months later her vigorous sampling of local loose coalitions of hunt saboteurs, cetaphiles, donkey sanctuarians, et cetera, had drawn to her several similarly minded women who agreed to form a more tightly knitted group which came to be known as ANIMA. That it was all female was not a conscious choice but a dynamic inevitability. Men fear more than they admire a powerful woman, and for her to rule over them she must normally usurp the masculine leadership of an already existing group. If instead she forms a new one, she will rarely attract male recruits till she is so successful, she doesnГўВЂВ™t want them.

The day after the abortive raid on Wanwood House, Cap Marvell laid the table in the kitchen of her flat for two.

It was simple fare: a large pie, a bowl of crisps, a green salad, a wedge of cheese, a jar of onions, and a couple of baguettes. By one place setting she put a tankard and three cans of draught bitter, by the other a tumbler and a bottle of Mexican beer.

At one oГўВЂВ™clock precisely the doorbell rang.

Smiling she drew open the door.

The smile faded as she saw Wendy Walker standing in the corridor.

ГўВЂВ?Wendy,ГўВЂВ™ she said. ГўВЂВ?What do you want?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?IГўВЂВ™m not selling bloody brushes thatГўВЂВ™s for sure,ГўВЂВ™ snapped the other.

ГўВЂВ?IГўВЂВ™m sorry,ГўВЂВ™ said Cap. ГўВЂВ?I didnГўВЂВ™t mean to be rude, only IГўВЂВ™m expecting someone for lunch ГўВЂВ¦ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?And IГўВЂВ™ll be in the way? Well that shouldnГўВЂВ™t bother you, Cap. You lot get trained to roll over folk who get in your way, donГўВЂВ™t you?ГўВЂВ™

Cap gritted her teeth. Why was it that every time Wendy treated her like she was still the Hon. Mrs Rupert she found herself wanting to act like she was still the Hon. Mrs Rupert?

She said, ГўВЂВ?Wendy, please, unless itГўВЂВ™s a matter of life or death, I wonder ifГўВЂВ”ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Life or death!ГўВЂВ™ Wendy interrupted her. ГўВЂВ?WhyГўВЂВ™d that bother you? ГўВЂВ™Less it was some sodding animalГўВЂВ™s life or death, and even then I daresay youГўВЂВ™ve slaughtered more birds and beasts than youГўВЂВ™ve ever bloody well saved!ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?What is it you want to talk about, Wendy?ГўВЂВ™ said Cap, dangerously calm.

ГўВЂВ?Last night, what the fuck do you think? The price of tea? YouГўВЂВ™re our group leader, arenГўВЂВ™t you? Right, I want to talk to my leader about what happened on the raid last night.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Look, I can see how it must have upset you, finding that body ГўВЂВ¦ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?ThatГўВЂВ™s not whatГўВЂВ™s upsetting me, no, itГўВЂВ™s not a few old bones thatГўВЂВ™s upsetting me ГўВЂВ¦ look, you gonna let me in or not?ГўВЂВ™

Cap leaned forward and sniffed.

ГўВЂВ?YouГўВЂВ™ve been drinking,ГўВЂВ™ she said.

ГўВЂВ?Well pardon me for breathing,ГўВЂВ™ said Wendy. ГўВЂВ?Pardon me for eating and drinking and sleeping and waking and pissing and crapping and doing all the other things that real human beings do. Yes, IГўВЂВ™ve been drinking, not much, just enough for me to get the crazy idea it might be worthwhile coming round here to sort things out ГўВЂВ¦ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Very impressive,ГўВЂВ™ said Cap. ГўВЂВ?But it will have to keep till youГўВЂВ™re a little more sober and IГўВЂВ™m a little less busy. IГўВЂВ™ll see you later, Wendy.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Later? Yeah sure, only it might be a bit too fucking late for you, Cap, a bit too fucking late!ГўВЂВ™

Cap Marvell stepped back and closed the door. Wendy Walker turned away and headed for the lift but before she could reach it, Andy Dalziel whoГўВЂВ™d been standing in it, listening, for the last few minutes, withdrew the foot which was holding the doors open, and pressed the button for the next floor up.

ГўВЂВ?Shit,ГўВЂВ™ said Wendy, and headed for the stairs.

Five minutes later the flat bell rang again.

Cap checked through the peephole this time to be sure, then opened the door, smiling widely.

ГўВЂВ?Hello there,ГўВЂВ™ she said. ГўВЂВ?No need to apologize for being late. ItГўВЂВ™s permissible on a first date.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Oh aye?ГўВЂВ™ said Dalziel. ГўВЂВ?Told me down the station you wanted to make a statement. DidnГўВЂВ™t say owt about dates.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?I believe I did mention lunch. But whether youГўВЂВ™ve come with that in mind or your timing is merely a happy coincidence matters little. YouГўВЂВ™re here. There is food. Please take a seat.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?What if IГўВЂВ™m not hungry?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?You donГўВЂВ™t look to me, Mr Dalziel, like a man in whom appetite has much to do with hunger. Do sit down.ГўВЂВ™

Dalziel considered this. The woman were right. So he did sit and eat.

She watched in silence, admiring the simple almost poetic efficiency of his technique.

There was no impression of gluttony, no overfilling of or overspilling from the mouth (which would indeed have been difficult given the cetacean dimensions of that maw), just a simple procession of food through the marble portals of his teeth, a short rhythmic manducation, and a quick swallow which hardly registered on the massy column of his oesophagus.

The pie vanished save for the small wedge she had taken.

He said, ГўВЂВ?You going to eat or just watch?ГўВЂВ™

She began to nibble at the pastry crust, still observing with awe as he split one of the baguettes in half, expertly lined it with cheese, crisps, salad, and pickled onions, replaced the lid, raised it to his lips.

ГўВЂВ?Remember that scene in the film of Tom Jones where they turn each other on just by eating?ГўВЂВ™ she said. ГўВЂВ?I never really understood how it worked before.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Eh?ГўВЂВ™ said Dalziel.

She said, ГўВЂВ?YouГўВЂВ™ll never get it in.ГўВЂВ™

Dalziel didnГўВЂВ™t reply. His mother had brought him up not to speak with his mouth full.

When the baguette had vanished like a waking dream, he poured himself the third can of bitter and said, ГўВЂВ?Right, Mrs Marvell, whatГўВЂВ™s all this about?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Call me Cap,ГўВЂВ™ she said.

ГўВЂВ?Why?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?It was a nickname my ingenious fellow pupils at my boarding school gave me. Captain Marvell. I tried to live up to it during my adolescence. In fact it was trying to live up to it that lost me it. It seemed a Captain Marvellish thing to do to get married to an Hon. at seventeen, but I soon discovered you cannot be called Cap if youГўВЂВ™re Mrs Rupert Pitt-Evenlode. In fact with that chain of words to trail around behind you, itГўВЂВ™s difficult to be anything at all except the Hon. Mrs et cetera. But back in ГўВЂВ™82 I got myself rechristened. I was a born-again pagan ГўВЂВ¦ But I see IГўВЂВ™m boring you. Why should that be? I know. None of this is news to you, is it? YouГўВЂВ™ve been checking up on me!ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Aye,ГўВЂВ™ said Dalziel completing his yawn. ГўВЂВ?Since they cut back on my taster, IГўВЂВ™m careful who I eat with. Why didnГўВЂВ™t mean I wanted the story of your life. It meant, why should I call you anything but Mrs or Miss or Ms Marvell?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?It would be friendly.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Ah well, I try not to get too friendly wiГўВЂВ™ folk I might have to bang up.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?I take it your idiom is penal rather than penile, superintendent? Does this mean ALBA are going to prosecute? Excellent.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Fancy your day in court, do you? Slap on the wrist? Tuppenny fine? Headlines in the Guardian and flash your kneecaps on breakfast TV?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?That would suit me nicely. But, despite your intimidatory threats, I doubt if it would suit ALBA. Such people are usually more concerned with damping publicity than provoking it.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Could be youГўВЂВ™re right about ALBA, missus. But itГўВЂВ™s not them you should be worried about.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?IГўВЂВ™m sorry ГўВЂВ¦ oh, you mean you. But what charges could the police bring against me if ALBA wonГўВЂВ™t press for trespass?ГўВЂВ™

Dalziel smiled like a crocodile being asked if heГўВЂВ™d got teeth.

ГўВЂВ?Going equipped for burglary. Criminal damage. Assault. Obstructing the police.ГўВЂВ™

She considered this then said, ГўВЂВ?Assault?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?You threatened the TecSec boss with them wire cutters.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Threatened? He must be a man of very nervous disposition. The cutters are a tool not a weapon.ГўВЂВ™

And a very clean tool too. Forensic had found no trace of blood. Surprisingly clean? Dalziel had asked hopefully. That would depend on the mind-cast of their owner, Dr Gentry, Head of the Forensic Lab, who disliked the Fat Man heartily, had replied.

ГўВЂВ?WeaponГўВЂВ™s a tool for killing,ГўВЂВ™ said Dalziel. ГўВЂВ?And you could have taken his head off if youГўВЂВ™d made contact. Courts donГўВЂВ™t like that sort of thing, especially not since Redcar.ГўВЂВ™

At least she didnГўВЂВ™t pretend not to take the allusion.

ГўВЂВ?That was terrible, and a great disservice to the movement. It wasnГўВЂВ™t even good protest. Simply turning the poor animals loose achieves very little in terms of their wellbeing and nothing at all in terms of public support.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?You mean itГўВЂВ™s the tactics you object to, not killing the odd security guard?ГўВЂВ™ said Dalziel.

ГўВЂВ?Of course I deplore the manГўВЂВ™s death,ГўВЂВ™ she said with some irritation. ГўВЂВ?It was tragic. But I cannot believe you seriously suspect my group had anything to do with it.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Why not?ГўВЂВ™ said Dalziel. ГўВЂВ?By all accounts once you got inside the building last night, you all ran wild like a bunch of lagered-up Leeds supporters. What was that all about? Premenstrual tension?ГўВЂВ™

She was unprovoked. Very cool this one. But beneath it all there was plenty of heat. The notion had him crossing his legs.

ГўВЂВ?A release of tension, certainly,ГўВЂВ™ she said. ГўВЂВ?WeГўВЂВ™d had a shock. Then suddenly I realized that weГўВЂВ™d got where we wanted to be, inside the building. It seemed foolish not to make a gesture.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?A gesture?ГўВЂВ™ He articulated the word as if some passing bird had crapped in his mouth.

ГўВЂВ?ThatГўВЂВ™s right. An act which resounds with significance far beyond its mere physical limitations. You should try one some day, superintendent.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?At my age it happens all the time,ГўВЂВ™ he said. ГўВЂВ?So you took off. And headed straight for the labs. Just a bit of luck that, was it?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?What else could it be?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Prior knowledge. Like, from being there before.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Being there when?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?In the summer, maybe, when there was a break-in at Wanwood.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Yes, I recall ГўВЂВ¦ ah, I see your game, Mr Dalziel. Or may I call you Andy? If I remember right, the raid on Wanwood had many of the characteristics of the raid on Redcar. Lots of mindless vandalism and the animals merely released into the countryside. And you think they could have been done by the same people. Therefore link ANIMA with the second, you link us with the first. Right?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Right as a confession,ГўВЂВ™ said Dalziel.

ГўВЂВ?Which it isnГўВЂВ™t. Do you have dates for both these raids?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?CanГўВЂВ™t remember? I get like that,ГўВЂВ™ said Dalziel. ГўВЂВ?June 28th. May 19th.ГўВЂВ™

She rose and went through into the living room, returning with a leather-bound diary.

ГўВЂВ?Here we are,ГўВЂВ™ she said. ГўВЂВ?On June 28th I had dinner with my son, Piers.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?HeГўВЂВ™ll vouch for you, will he? WhatГўВЂВ™s his line? Urban terrorism?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?In a manner of speaking. HeГўВЂВ™s Lieutenant Colonel Pitt-Evenlode MC of the Yorkshire Fusiliers. Like his number?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Just tell me which bishops you were with on May 19th,ГўВЂВ™ growled Dalziel.

ГўВЂВ?Sorry. No clergy. I went to a wedding at Scarborough, but it was a civil rather than a religious ceremony. I stayed the night there. In fact, I stayed up most of the night. There was a postnuptial party which went on until dawn. I think youГўВЂВ™ll find I made my presence felt sufficiently to be recalled through the alcoholic haze.ГўВЂВ™

Dalziel belched. She took it as an expression of doubt.

ГўВЂВ?DonГўВЂВ™t you believe me? Please, feel free to check.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?I may just do that. And itГўВЂВ™s nowt to do with not believing you. ItГўВЂВ™s just that I never believe my luck when folk start volunteering alibis before IГўВЂВ™ve even asked for them.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?That is perhaps because most of your customers are of a lower order of intelligence in which such pre-emptive thought would indeed be suspicious. If our acquaintance is to mature, youГўВЂВ™ll have to get used to dealing with someone whose brain is quite as good as yours. And also with someone who, unlike most of those others, is unworried by your ultimate threat of locking them away. For me to get a prison sentence would be a real publicity coup, so you must see that your threats, even if you meant to carry them through which I doubt, have little weight with me.ГўВЂВ™

She gave him a smile of great sunniness which was well worth basking in on a drab November day. He returned it gladly. She did after all have a point, and he never minded letting opponents build up a points lead. The more confident they got, the more likely they were to drop their guards and reveal a fatal weakness. Like here. Anyone who seriously doubted his willingness to carry through any threat he cared to make was wide open to a sucker punch any time he cared to throw it. But no need to rush, not with beer and crisps and pickles still on the table, and them lovely sugar loaves to leer at.

He drank and nibbled and leered, and waited to see where she would lead the conversation.

She said, ГўВЂВ?I cannot of course provide alibis for all of my colleagues though two of them, Meg and Donna, were in fact at the Scarborough wedding also.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?That ГўВЂВ™ud be Jenkins and Linsey? The dykes?ГўВЂВ™

His reaction when heГўВЂВ™d come across this surmise in George HeadingleyГўВЂВ™s notes had been, ГўВЂВ?What the fuckГўВЂВ™s that got to do with anything?ГўВЂВ™ But now he was happy to use the term as a possible irritant.

ГўВЂВ?ThatГўВЂВ™s right,ГўВЂВ™ she said, unirritated. ГўВЂВ?The dykes. As for the others, all I can do is vouch for their commitment to peaceful protest. Except perhaps Wendy.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Walker? But she acted as peacekeeper, didnГўВЂВ™t she?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Rather out of character, I feel. What about you? I got the impression you were already acquainted.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Aye. WeГўВЂВ™ve met.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?And did I get the impression you were surprised to find her in such company?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?WhatГўВЂВ™re we talking here?ГўВЂВ™ he said. ГўВЂВ?Class or causes?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Are the two really distinguishable in some peopleГўВЂВ™s eyes? But what I meant was, at the peaceful protest end of the activist scene.ГўВЂВ™

Dalziel laughed and said, ГўВЂВ?You call what you got up to peaceful protest? IГўВЂВ™d not like to see you if you went to war.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?IГўВЂВ™ll try not to invite you then. But youГўВЂВ™ve not answered my question.ГўВЂВ™

She was very insistent, he thought. That little exchange heГўВЂВ™d overheard between her and Wendy Walker must have really got her going for some reason.

He said, ГўВЂВ?What surprised me werenГўВЂВ™t so much Walker joining you lot as you lot taking her on board. HowГўВЂВ™d that happen?ГўВЂВ™

If heГўВЂВ™d hoped to throw her off balance by reversing the question, he had failed. She was smiling rather slyly, an expression he found strangely exciting.

He crossed his legs the other way and waited for the answer.

ГўВЂВ?Oddly enough,ГўВЂВ™ she said, ГўВЂВ?it was through a colleague of yours in a manner of speaking, man and wife being one flesh. A mutual acquaintance introduced us. I expect you know her well. Mrs Ellie Pascoe.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?YouГўВЂВ™re not saying sheГўВЂВ™s one of your lot?ГўВЂВ™ he groaned.

ГўВЂВ?Not really. Sympathetic but too concerned with suffering humanity to have much energy left for the animal kingdom, so no need to be embarrassed.ГўВЂВ™

Another weakness, imagining embarrassment was one of his.

ГўВЂВ?Still, a bit of a handful, isnГўВЂВ™t she? Wendy, I mean.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?SheГўВЂВ™s certainly got her own ideas, and IГўВЂВ™m not sure sheГўВЂВ™ll stay with us forever. Too much energy and resentment, not perhaps enough self-knowledge. Like me, her marriage broke up, but she thinks it was because her husband was a scab, while the truth I suspect is that she so enjoyed the role she found in the Strike that there was no way she was ever going to go back to the life servitude of being a pitmanГўВЂВ™s wife. Pitman. I had my own Pitt man too, so I can sympathize. But the difference is, I changed sides, while she lost; not only a battle but a whole bloody war. So perhaps it was no wonder she was looking for a new role where the issues were clear cut, even if it meant she has to work for a while at least alongside an old class enemy like me.ГўВЂВ™

She laughed and Dalziel grinned too. Weakness three. Believing sheГўВЂВ™d got Wendy Walker and her kind sussed. Couple of weeks on the dole could root out the centuries-deep deference of the British worker, but it took major surgery to eradicate the built-in smugness of the middle class.

He sucked the last drops out of the last can. Every plate was empty. Time for business.

He said, ГўВЂВ?All right, missus ГўВЂВ¦ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Cap,ГўВЂВ™ she urged.

ГўВЂВ?All right, Cap. So why did you want to see me?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?To make a statement, of course. You were very keen for us to make statements last night.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Was I? Funny how you take these fancies, then go off them. Like being pregnant they tell me.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?So you donГўВЂВ™t want a statement?ГўВЂВ™ she said, disconcerted.

ГўВЂВ?Depends what youГўВЂВ™ve got to state.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?I thought we could negotiate,ГўВЂВ™ she said, recovering. ГўВЂВ?I mean, youГўВЂВ™ve got a body in the grounds of Wanwood House. I bet youГўВЂВ™ve got some ideas about that already. So if it would help for me to say I saw that plonker Batty start like a guilty thing surprised when he got the news, just say the word. Or that TecSec Nazi, Patten, if itГўВЂВ™s him you fancy and you need an excuse to search his pad, maybe I could help there.ГўВЂВ™

Dalziel scratched his bubaline neck and said, ГўВЂВ?What makes you think IГўВЂВ™d take kindly to the idea of fitting someone up?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Oh, I know you wouldnГўВЂВ™t do it maliciously,ГўВЂВ™ she reassured him, her candid brown eyes gazing deep into his. ГўВЂВ?Only if you were sure it was in the best interests of justice. I mean, when I contacted the local media this morning to ask why ANIMA was hardly getting a mention, and got told that in matters sub judice it was editorial policy to afford the police full cooperation, I didnГўВЂВ™t immediately think, that bastard Andy DalzielГўВЂВ™s put the frighteners on. No, I thought, that nice superintendentГўВЂВ™s imposed a temporary media blackout in the best interests of all concerned. No need for me to go running hysterically to my cousin who does features for Channel 4 or my old school chum whoГўВЂВ™s a junior minister in the Home Office, is there? Why have confrontation when you can have consultation instead?ГўВЂВ™

Not bad, approved Dalziel. Just because heГўВЂВ™d identified three weaknesses didnГўВЂВ™t mean she couldnГўВЂВ™t still kick him in the balls. But he was still intrigued as to why she should think he was susceptible to consultation. She didnГўВЂВ™t give the impression of being thick.

He said, ГўВЂВ?LetГўВЂВ™s get things straight. I take the frighteners off the local media and youГўВЂВ™ll sign any statement I care to dictate to you?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?More or less,ГўВЂВ™ she said.

ГўВЂВ?Talking about fitting folk up always makes me thirsty,ГўВЂВ™ he said, crushing the last empty can in his huge fist.

ГўВЂВ?Have to be Mexican,ГўВЂВ™ she said, going to the fridge. ГўВЂВ?ItГўВЂВ™s good. So good some of the American companies started spreading rumours the Mexican workers piss in it.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?So what? Yon reservoir up Dendale, the one supplies most of our tap water, we fished five bodies out of there last year. Cheers. DonГўВЂВ™t have another bit of pork pie in there too, do you?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Another bit?ГўВЂВ™ she said.

It took him a second to work this out.

ГўВЂВ?You mean it werenГўВЂВ™t pork?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?I donГўВЂВ™t eat dead animals, Andy, nor encourage my friends to do so. It was basically tofu.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Bloody hell,ГўВЂВ™ said Dalziel, taking a long cleansing suck at his beer. ГўВЂВ?Two things I donГўВЂВ™t do, missus. One is feed folk stuff they donГўВЂВ™t know what it is. TГўВЂВ™other is fit people up. Understand that and we might get on a bit better.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Oh dear,ГўВЂВ™ she said, concerned. ГўВЂВ?IГўВЂВ™ve offended you. IГўВЂВ™m not very good on moral codes. I suppose that means goodbye to Plan Two as well.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?WhatГўВЂВ™s that when itГўВЂВ™s at home?ГўВЂВ™ he asked suspiciously.

ГўВЂВ?Well, after our first encounter last night I had the feeling that my boobs hadnГўВЂВ™t been so closely scanned since my last radiography checkup. I thought if all else failed ГўВЂВ¦ let me rephrase that ГўВЂВ¦ I rather hoped all else might fail and IГўВЂВ™d have to fall back on the flesh, so to speak. But naturally IГўВЂВ™d never come between a man and his moral code.ГўВЂВ™

Dalziel considered. Another man might have played for time by pretending to suck on the empty bottle or making reference to the weather, but Dalziel did his considering in plain view. Offers of trade-offs of sexual for constabulary favours werenГўВЂВ™t uncommon. He rarely bothered himself. A bang was only a bang but a good result was a collar.

On the other hand, if he was honest with himself (and with himself what was the point of being other?), he really fancied this lass. Not just the boobs. These days even Mid-Yorkshire was bulging with highly visible boobs. See two, youГўВЂВ™ve seen ГўВЂВ™em all. And not the way she spoke which still carried too many overtones of the Pitt-Overload era, or whatever the pratГўВЂВ™s name was. And certainly not all this dotty animal rights stuff. And she wasnГўВЂВ™t young. And she wasnГўВЂВ™t beautiful. Any other strikes against her? Yes, of course, the big one. OK so ALBA would almost certainly decide not to proceed against her. And the possible charges heГўВЂВ™d just listed werenГўВЂВ™t worth wasting his time on. But if he thought there was any chance at all that sheГўВЂВ™d been mixed up in this Redcar thing ГўВЂВ¦

Very long odds against. One in a million. Less. SheГўВЂВ™d offered alibis and from what heГўВЂВ™d seen he reckoned that sheГўВЂВ™d sussed out he wasnГўВЂВ™t the kind of cop whoГўВЂВ™d let a bit of nookie stop him from checking. So why was he looking for an excuse to reject what his whole being was urging him to grab with both hands?

Mebbe he was a bit scared of his own desire. Mebbe it was because there was something about her that hit the spot, like the bouquet of an untried single malt when you opened the bottle, telling you that this was one to be savoured.

She was regarding him oddly. Calculatingly?

ГўВЂВ?WhatГўВЂВ™re you thinking of?ГўВЂВ™ he asked abruptly.

ГўВЂВ?Old friend of mine, same name as the novelist. Balzac,ГўВЂВ™ she said smiling.

Bloody incomprehensible. But which on ГўВЂВ™em wasnГўВЂВ™t? Condition of service! And at least he now understood her motive for getting him alone. Just as heГўВЂВ™d been identifying her weaknesses over the past hour, so sheГўВЂВ™d identified his last night, and taken a bloody sight less time about it.

Question his sodding vanity wanted answering was this. Was Plan Two a Last Resort, or really a Principle Object disguised as a Last Resort?

She read a question in his eyes, but misread it also.

She said, ГўВЂВ?I had nothing to do with the Redcar raid, Andy. And I deplore what they did, both personally and as an activist.ГўВЂВ™

Well, she would say that, wouldnГўВЂВ™t she? Clever thing for a cop to reply was, I believe you.

ГўВЂВ?I believe you,ГўВЂВ™ he replied. ГўВЂВ?Them bones you lot found last night, looks like they could be pretty old.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?So?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?I mean too old to have owt to do with ALBA. With a bit of luck they might even turn out too old to have owt to do with the CID!ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?ThatГўВЂВ™s interesting.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Aye. Means there might be nothing at all to investigate. Certainly means you and the folk up there arenГўВЂВ™t mixed up in any investigation. I rang my media contacts on the way here, told ГўВЂВ™em they could go to town.ГўВЂВ™

There. Now letГўВЂВ™s see if the chicken still crossed the road.

The phone started ringing.

ГўВЂВ?Could be for me,ГўВЂВ™ said Dalziel. ГўВЂВ?I left ГўВЂВ™em your number. Or it could be News at Ten.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Shall I answer it?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Up to you. YouГўВЂВ™re a free agent.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Yes, I am,ГўВЂВ™ she said seriously. ГўВЂВ?How about you, Andy? HowГўВЂВ™s the moral code?ГўВЂВ™

Dalziel didnГўВЂВ™t mind a bit of obliquity but this was beginning to sound ГўВЂВ¦ what was that word Pascoe sometimes came out with? ГўВЂВ¦ sphincteresque? Summat like that. Any road, enough was enough.

He stood up and started taking his tie off.

ГўВЂВ?Moral code? he said. ГўВЂВ?YouГўВЂВ™ve just cracked it.ГўВЂВ™

xi (#ulink_9ddac4c1-d408-5d4a-ba15-9cf9ed7c723b)

ГўВЂВ?That, I hope, is the secretaire you mentioned. Or have you gone into the funeral business?ГўВЂВ™ said Ellie Pascoe.

Pascoe, reluctantly acknowledging that the passionate welcome-home embrace was over, followed her gaze to the sheet-shrouded cargo on his roof rack.

ГўВЂВ?Have no fear,ГўВЂВ™ he said. ГўВЂВ?Ada is safely scattered as per wishes, more or less. It was quite entertaining in a macabre way. Give me a hand with this, will you? HowГўВЂВ™s Rosie?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?At school. Memory that it was her friend SarahГўВЂВ™s birthday today coincided with a miracle recovery.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Ah,ГўВЂВ™ said Pascoe.

ГўВЂВ?Ah what? She really wasnГўВЂВ™t fit to go yesterday.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?I know she wasnГўВЂВ™t,ГўВЂВ™ said Pascoe mildly, thinking that such a hint of defensiveness in a suspect would have had him chiselling at the weakness till it gave. ГўВЂВ?Here we go. YouГўВЂВ™ve got that end? Right ГўВЂВ¦ just let it slide. Great. Et voila!ГўВЂВ™

Dramatically he whipped the sheet off the secretaire. Ellie regarded it in silence.

ГўВЂВ?You are dumbfounded with admiration?ГўВЂВ™ he said hopefully.

ГўВЂВ?You said it was Sheraton.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?After Sheraton,ГўВЂВ™ said Pascoe.

ГўВЂВ?About eighty long hard years after.ГўВЂВ™

Pascoe couldnГўВЂВ™t argue. Out of the friendly shadows of AdaГўВЂВ™s living room, the secretaire had lost much of its antique charm and stood forlorn and rather shabby in the cruel November sunlight.

ГўВЂВ?ItГўВЂВ™s got a secret drawer,ГўВЂВ™ he pleaded.

He opened it and showed her the photo. She studied it with interest.

ГўВЂВ?Poor devil,ГўВЂВ™ she said. ГўВЂВ?Gosh, doesnГўВЂВ™t he look like you?ГўВЂВ™

Pascoe took the picture from her and looked at it again. He still couldnГўВЂВ™t see it but something in those eyes spoke to him.

ГўВЂВ?ItГўВЂВ™ll look better inside,ГўВЂВ™ he said, dropping the photo back into the drawer. ГўВЂВ?Unless this is the day youГўВЂВ™ve got the Beautiful Homes photographers coming round?ГўВЂВ™

It was a low shot but she had it coming. Ellie was savage in her mockery of the Good Taste Theme Parks which gleamed at you out of the glossies, but this didnГўВЂВ™t stop her from being pretty finical about what stood on her floors and hung on her walls.

They carried the secretaire into the house and set it down in the hallway.

ГўВЂВ?Leave it there for the time being,ГўВЂВ™ said Ellie. ГўВЂВ?Hopefully itГўВЂВ™ll find its own place. LetГўВЂВ™s have a coffee and you can tell me all about everything.ГўВЂВ™

She listened alertly to his narrative, laughing aloud from time to time and asking the occasional pertinent question.

ГўВЂВ?So,ГўВЂВ™ she said. ГўВЂВ?Ada ended up as part of a military tableau. Not her intention, I presume.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?No. I think on the whole sheГўВЂВ™d have been happier messing up one of the tidier exhibits,ГўВЂВ™ Pascoe admitted. ГўВЂВ?She was a lot like you, wanting people to be quite clear what she thought, I mean.ГўВЂВ™

Ellie considered this. She rarely talked about PeterГўВЂВ™s family, not because she disliked them (which on the whole she did) but because Peter himself had made them a no-go area. On the surface Ada was the one she had most in common with, but when strong wills clash, common ground can often be a battlefield. Neither was happy about PeterГўВЂВ™s career in the police force but AdaГўВЂВ™s objections were the deeper. Ellie had married him because she loved him despite the fact he was a policeman, while Ada felt that all her love and care and hopes for her grandson were betrayed by his choice of career. Ellie, she implied, being the new responsible woman in his life, must bear some of the blame. Such an accusation was an irony which amusement might have rendered barbless had not Ellie surprised in herself a strong resentment which boiled down to simple jealousy that anyone else should dare to imagine they shared her right to criticize her husband! Self-knowledge, she now realized, may bring about changes in the head, but the heart doesnГўВЂВ™t give a toss for psychology.

The two women had settled into a polite neutrality easy to maintain as contact between them was minimal. Nevertheless Ellie had encouraged Peter in his attempts to re-establish his old closeness with his grandmother, sensing that Ada was the source of most of the family warmth in his upbringing, but hope of any real rapprochement had died with the old ladyГўВЂВ™s reaction to RosieГўВЂВ™s birth.

ГўВЂВ?A girl,ГўВЂВ™ she said. ГўВЂВ?You planning any more?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?WeГўВЂВ™ll have to see,ГўВЂВ™ said Pascoe.

ГўВЂВ?DoesnГўВЂВ™t matter. Maybe itГўВЂВ™s best you should be the last of the Pascoes. I sometimes wonder if Mother didnГўВЂВ™t have the right of it after all.ГўВЂВ™

Slightly enigmatic this last comment might have been, but the general tenor of her indifference to the birth of her great-granddaughter was unmistakable and, in PascoeГўВЂВ™s proudly paternal eyes, unforgivable. Hereafter contact was intermittent and formal, which didnГўВЂВ™t stop him from feeling a tremendous upsurge of guilt at the news of her death and the realization that he hadnГўВЂВ™t seen her for almost two years.

Ellie had felt neither the indignation nor the guilt. And she would definitely have gone to the funeral, she assured herself, if RosieГўВЂВ™s cold hadnГўВЂВ™t interfered.

Or maybe, she added with that instinctive honesty which kept her certainties this side of fanaticism, maybe IГўВЂВ™d have found some other reason, like cleaning an old tennis shoe.

ГўВЂВ?It really got to her, didnГўВЂВ™t it?ГўВЂВ™ she said. ГўВЂВ?Losing her dad like that in the war. It dominated her life. I hope IГўВЂВ™m not that obsessive?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?WeГўВЂВ™d better ask Rosie in twenty years or so,ГўВЂВ™ said Pascoe lightly. ГўВЂВ?Any calls by the way?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?From on high, you mean? Yes, naturally. His Fatship rang first thing this morning, asked if you were back yet. Implied that you were an overeducated rat swimming away from an overloaded ship. Something about animals rights and finding bones in a wood?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Wanwood House, ALBA Pharmaceuticals, I was there in the summer, remember? I heard on the news some activists had got in the grounds and discovered human remains. So heГўВЂВ™s missing me? Good! What did you tell him?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?I said that your family and fiduciary duties were such as would probably detain you in Warwickshire until late this evening at the earliest.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Excellent,ГўВЂВ™ said Pascoe. ГўВЂВ?Many thanks.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?For what?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?For lying for me.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?IsnГўВЂВ™t that a wifeГўВЂВ™s duty, lying for her husband, vertically and horizontally?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Well, yes, of course,ГўВЂВ™ said Pascoe. ГўВЂВ?Tell me, how dutiful are you feeling?ГўВЂВ™

Before Ellie could reply the doorbell rang.

ГўВЂВ?Shit,ГўВЂВ™ said Pascoe. ГўВЂВ?If itГўВЂВ™s him, tell him IГўВЂВ™m still fiducing.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?And your car came back by itself? Good trick.ГўВЂВ™

Through the frosted panel of the front door, Ellie could see at once it wasnГўВЂВ™t Dalziel. With a bit of luck it would just be a JehovahГўВЂВ™s Witness who could be told to sod off with utmost dispatch. She was feeling pleasantly randy and there was a good hour or more before she needed to think about picking up Rosie from school.

It wasnГўВЂВ™t a Witness, it was Wendy Walker, looking like a good advert for the afterlife.

ГўВЂВ?Hi, Ellie,ГўВЂВ™ she said. ГўВЂВ?Spare a mo for a chat?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Yes, of course,ГўВЂВ™ said Ellie brightly. ГўВЂВ?Come in.ГўВЂВ™

Wendy moved past her and stopped by the secretaire.

ГўВЂВ?Nice,ГўВЂВ™ she said.

ГўВЂВ?Make me an offer,ГўВЂВ™ said Ellie. ГўВЂВ?Come into the kitchen.ГўВЂВ™

They sat opposite each other at the stripped pine table.

ГўВЂВ?Coffee?ГўВЂВ™ said Ellie.

ГўВЂВ?No thanks. OK if I smoke, but?ГўВЂВ™

There were several reasons why it wasnГўВЂВ™t, each of them absolute.

On the other hand, to be asked permission by someone who would have lit up in Buck House without reference to the Queen was a flattery it seemed churlish to deny.

She said weakly, ГўВЂВ?All right but IГўВЂВ™ll open a window.ГўВЂВ™

It was a counterproductive move, merely adding the risk of primary pneumonia to that of secondary cancer.

Drawing a curtain to cut down the draught, she said, ГўВЂВ?Sure you wouldnГўВЂВ™t like a coffee?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?To sober me up you mean?ГўВЂВ™ said Wendy aggressively.

ГўВЂВ?No, I didnГўВЂВ™t, actually. But do you need sobering up?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?No. Sorry I snapped. Did have a couple at lunch time but that doesnГўВЂВ™t make me a drunk.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?No, of course it doesnГўВЂВ™t. Was there something particular ГўВЂВ¦?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?We went on a raid last night.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Wanwood House? Was that you?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?You know about it?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Only what I heard on the news and that wasnГўВЂВ™t much.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Yeah, I think that fat bastardГўВЂВ™s put the muzzle on.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?That wonГўВЂВ™t please Cap.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Goose feather up the arse wouldnГўВЂВ™t please her.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?IГўВЂВ™m not sure it would do much for me either,ГўВЂВ™ said Ellie. ГўВЂВ?There was something about a body ГўВЂВ¦ГўВЂВ™

Wendy told the story quickly, dismissively, scattering more ash than Etna.

Ellie said, ГўВЂВ?Good God, Wendy, no wonder youГўВЂВ™re shook up.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Who says IГўВЂВ™m shook up?ГўВЂВ™ demanded the smaller woman.

ГўВЂВ?Well, if youГўВЂВ™re not, you ought to change your make-up,ГўВЂВ™ said Ellie spiritedly.

ГўВЂВ?What? Oh yeah.ГўВЂВ™ She managed a faint smile, then went on, ГўВЂВ?No it wasnГўВЂВ™t that, something else ГўВЂВ¦ when they took us inside and Cap ran riot ГўВЂВ¦ look, Ellie, I need an ear ГўВЂВ¦ someone to tell me if IГўВЂВ™m being stupid or what ГўВЂВ¦ and you said, anything came up, I should let you know, right? Or was that just one of the things you lot say to keep us lot happy?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Wendy,ГўВЂВ™ said Ellie dangerously. ГўВЂВ?That you lot crap only works when youГўВЂВ™re up in the fighting line and IГўВЂВ™m with a bunch of noncombatants shouting encouragement from the back. This is about friendship or itГўВЂВ™s about nothing.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Yeah, sorry,ГўВЂВ™ said Wendy. ГўВЂВ?ItГўВЂВ™s just with your man being a bobby ГўВЂВ¦ heГўВЂВ™s not at home, is he? IГўВЂВ™m not ready ГўВЂВ¦ГўВЂВ™

As if in answer the door opened and Pascoe appeared.

ГўВЂВ?Peter,ГўВЂВ™ said Ellie brightly. ГўВЂВ?You remember Wendy, donГўВЂВ™t you? Wendy Walker, from Burrthorpe?ГўВЂВ™

Burrthorpe. Where heГўВЂВ™d almost lost his life down a mine. And almost lost his wife to a young miner.

ГўВЂВ?Yes, of course. Hi. Keeping well, I hope?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Fine,ГўВЂВ™ said Wendy Walker. ГўВЂВ?Hey, look at the time. IГўВЂВ™d better get going.ГўВЂВ™

She stubbed her fag in a saucer and stood up.

Pascoe said guiltily, ГўВЂВ?DonГўВЂВ™t rush off on my account.ГўВЂВ™

She said, ГўВЂВ?No, my timingГўВЂВ™s bad today. Ellie, are you going to the party tonight? Thought I might cadge a lift home afterwards if you were. Buses stop at ten and the bikeГўВЂВ™s a menace when youГўВЂВ™re pissed.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Party?ГўВЂВ™ said Pascoe.

ГўВЂВ?You know, the Extramural DepartmentГўВЂВ™s do.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?But I thought ГўВЂВ¦ГўВЂВ™ He changed his mind about uttering the thought.

Wendy flashed a bright smile and said, ГўВЂВ?Cheers then,ГўВЂВ™ and went past him into the entrance hall. Ellie caught up with her on the doorstep.

ГўВЂВ?You havenГўВЂВ™t said what you want to talk about,ГўВЂВ™ she said.

ГўВЂВ?Probably all in my imagination,ГўВЂВ™ said Wendy unconvincingly. ГўВЂВ?Look, weГўВЂВ™ll have a chat at the party, OK? You will be there, wonГўВЂВ™t you?ГўВЂВ™

She fixed Ellie with those bright unblinking eyes, like a hungry whippet that doesnГўВЂВ™t know how to beg.

ГўВЂВ?Yes,ГўВЂВ™ said Ellie reluctantly. ГўВЂВ?IГўВЂВ™ll definitely be there.ГўВЂВ™

She watched as Walker mounted the dilapidated mountain bike which was her urban transport and stood on the pedals to accelerate away.

ГўВЂВ?Shit,ГўВЂВ™ said Ellie.

The party in question was basically a celebration of the University Extramural DepartmentГўВЂВ™s twenty-fifth year of running day-release courses for the National Union of Miners. Ellie had taught on the course briefly, and it was here that had begun the relationship which had caused so much pain. SheГўВЂВ™d backed off any further involvement in the course after that. Peter had urged her to go to the party, particularly as it wasnГўВЂВ™t just a celebration but a wake. The present course was the last. After Christmas the NUM wouldnГўВЂВ™t have enough miners left to make day-release viable. Samson had been brought low. The triumph of Dagon was complete.

But despite her husbandГўВЂВ™s urgings, or perhaps because of them, Ellie had resolved not to go, a decision confirmed by the coincidence of his return from AdaГўВЂВ™s funeral this same day.

Now the case was altered but not in any way she could explain.

It would be nice, she thought, just now and then, to be like one of those bright-eyed brain-deads in the telly ads who never had a problem more pressing than which pack of chemical crap washed whiter.

But that wasnГўВЂВ™t an option she had been programmed for.

She turned back into the entrance hall and banged her shin against AdaГўВЂВ™s secretaire.

ГўВЂВ?And up you too!ГўВЂВ™ said Ellie Pascoe.

xii (#ulink_ac23b9a8-c75b-5a83-8c52-dc63fa009dd3)

By early afternoon, even with the help of a small pump to keep the water level down, WieldГўВЂВ™s team hadnГўВЂВ™t recovered as many bones from the crater as would make a good stock. These were dispatched to Longbottom who reacted like a ravenous panther offered a harvest mouse.

His complaints were heard elsewhere because about 1.30, Wield had a rendezvous with Death.

This was the sobriquet of Arnold Gentry, Head of the Police Forensic Laboratory. Rumour had it that he had been excavated along with the Dead Sea Scrolls, and he was certainly one of the few men to make Troll Longbottom look healthy.

He acknowledged WieldГўВЂВ™s greeting with a minuscule nod, brooded on the edge of the pit for a while, then said, ГўВЂВ?Sluice it.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Eh?ГўВЂВ™ said Wield.

ГўВЂВ?From what Mr Longbottom says, I gather there has been considerable dispersion of the remains, probably both through natural causes and as a result of the use of mechanical and explosive devices in the clearance of the area earlier this year. This means the precise disposition of the bones is unlikely to be central to your investigation. Therefore it makes sense to load say fifty or sixty cubic metres of earth onto a truck and deliver them to my lab where I will arrange to have them sluiced, thus isolating any bones or other evidential material. This will save you a great deal of time and the state a great deal of money.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?YouГўВЂВ™d best talk to Mr Headingley, sir,ГўВЂВ™ said Wield seeing the DI approaching. ГўВЂВ?OK if I go off to lunch now, sir?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Aye, why not,ГўВЂВ™ said Headingley with postprandial expansiveness.

Wield moved quickly away. Dr DeathГўВЂВ™s suggestion seemed a good one, but he wasnГўВЂВ™t going to let George Headingley get his feelings on record. Over the years heГўВЂВ™d shown a growing reluctance to take responsibility though none to taking credit. That was what had kept him a superior unlike Peter Pascoe whoГўВЂВ™d become a mate.

As he reached the drive, a strangulated cry made him glance back.

Gentry had been supporting his proposition by pointing to the fluid condition of the sides of the crater which made any search by manual means both slow and perilous. Headingley, in his efforts to show an alert interest while postponing decision, had ventured too near the edge and suddenly found himself proving Dr DeathГўВЂВ™s thesis. As Wield watched, the ungainly inspector slid slowly like a ship down a launch ramp into the water-filled crater.

For a moment Wield was tempted to return and supervise the rescue operation. But only for a moment. GodГўВЂВ™s gifts should be savoured in tranquillity, and besides there were plenty of strong young constables in thigh-length waders to pluck old George from the depths. He turned and continued up the drive.

At the top, he headed down the side of the house and into the old tradesmenГўВЂВ™s entrance, now leading directly into the TecSec quarters which consisted of an office, a sitting room with a couple of Z-beds, a washroom and a kitchen.

Wield peered through the office door. Patten was sitting at his desk, typing on a computer. On one wall a range of TV screens showed scenes from various parts of the grounds and building. Very hi-tech, thought Wield. Must be costing ALBA a bomb.

ГўВЂВ?OK if I clean up?ГўВЂВ™ he said.

ГўВЂВ?Surprised you bother to ask. DonГўВЂВ™t all get your manners from that fat fucker, then?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?No. Get mine from SainsburyГўВЂВ™s. Where do you get yours from?ГўВЂВ™

The security man looked abashed.

ГўВЂВ?Sorry. Of course you can. Should be a clean towel in the cupboard.ГўВЂВ™

When he came back, he found Patten on the phone.

He said, ГўВЂВ?ThatГўВЂВ™s right. Roll ГўВЂВ™em up, all three. You got it.ГўВЂВ™

Then replacing the receiver he said to Wield, ГўВЂВ?IГўВЂВ™ve just made a brew. Fancy a cup?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?That ГўВЂВ™ud be nice. No sugar.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Keep healthy, eh? IГўВЂВ™ve seen you down the Leisure, havenГўВЂВ™t I? Kung fu, wasnГўВЂВ™t it?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?I try to keep in shape.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Working with yon tub of lard must give you a real incentive.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Nowt wrong with being big so long as you can punch your weight,ГўВЂВ™ said Wield mildly.

ГўВЂВ?And he can?ГўВЂВ™ said Patten sceptically.

ГўВЂВ?HeГўВЂВ™s wired a few jawbones in his time,ГўВЂВ™ said Wield. ГўВЂВ?You army?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?ThatГўВЂВ™s right. You been checking up?ГўВЂВ™ said Patten with a return to his earlier aggression.

ГўВЂВ?No. Private security folk are usually ex-cops or ex-forces, and youГўВЂВ™re not ex-cop.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?How do you know that?ГўВЂВ™

Wield shrugged and said, ГўВЂВ?Way you donГўВЂВ™t stick your pinkie out when you drink your tea.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?What? Oh, I see. A joke.ГўВЂВ™ He sounded surprised.

HereГўВЂВ™s another thinks I shouldnГўВЂВ™t make jokes, and he doesnГўВЂВ™t even know me! thought Wield.

He said, ГўВЂВ?What mob?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?York Fusiliers. I busted my leg on an exercise, mended fine but they were rationalizing, that means dumping bodies. Offered me a medical discharge. I offered them a fifty-mile yomp across the moors, my pension against their jobs. No takers.ГўВЂВ™

It was clearly a bitter memory.

ГўВЂВ?So youГўВЂВ™ve ended up deskbound,ГўВЂВ™ said Wield with provocative sympathy.

ГўВЂВ?Yeah. Well, not all the time, and at least IГўВЂВ™m doing something useful.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Guarding this place is useful?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?ItГўВЂВ™s important work they do and theyГўВЂВ™ve a right to do it in peace.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?You reckon? Bit of overkill that mess out there, isnГўВЂВ™t it?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?You reckon?ГўВЂВ™ mimicked Patten. ГўВЂВ?Listen, back last summer they had one watchman and locks you could fart open. Those mad buggers just walked in, smashed the place up and helped themselves to everything, including the watchmanГўВЂВ™s so-called guard dog. So we got called in. I took one look and said, first thing you want here is a fire zone. ThatГўВЂВ™s a piece of ground in clear view where if anything moves, you shoot it. No need to go too far. Nearer the house the better, as that keeps the circle nice and small and cuts down cost. Also it leaves enough of the outer woodland untouched to keep things from the road looking much the same as theyГўВЂВ™ve always done. Now if they come, theyГўВЂВ™ve got to cross the open. WeГўВЂВ™ve got lights and cameras, and thereГўВЂВ™s an alarmed security fence itГўВЂВ™ll take more than a pair of ordinary wire cutters to get through. InstallationГўВЂВ™s expensive, I agree. But once itГўВЂВ™s done theyГўВЂВ™re secure forever, and thatГўВЂВ™s worth more than money to a firm like ALBA.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?I can see that,ГўВЂВ™ said Wield pleasantly. ГўВЂВ?When they were clearing the wood, did the contractors say anything about hitting an old wall or something like that? Seem to be a lot of granite slabs lying around out there.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Not to me.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?What about Dr Batty?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?CouldnГўВЂВ™t say. But if they did, IГўВЂВ™m pretty damn sure heГўВЂВ™d have said carry on regardless. Old stones can mean a lot of bearded wonders slapping a preservation order on you if youГўВЂВ™re not careful.ГўВЂВ™

He gave Wield a conspiratorial all-mates-together grin which sat uneasily on his scarred and watchful face.

Wield said, ГўВЂВ?IГўВЂВ™ll need to talk with your men who were on duty when they brought those women in last night, especially those as chased them round the offices.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?WhyГўВЂВ™s that?ГўВЂВ™ said Patten, matiness gone.

ГўВЂВ?In case ALBA fancy bringing charges. Trespass is no good as far as the house goes, as technically they were invited in, so theyГўВЂВ™d need to go for criminal damage, assault even. So weГўВЂВ™ll need statements.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Save you the bother,ГўВЂВ™ said Patten delving into his desk. ГўВЂВ?We got our system too. Full reports on any incident. Here, take a look, all signed and sealed.ГўВЂВ™

He handed a thin file across. Wield looked inside. The reports were all there, full of necessary detail of time, place, duration.

ГўВЂВ?Everything in order?ГўВЂВ™ said Patten. ГўВЂВ?Jimmy Howard keeps us straight on rules of evidence. Useful having an ex-cop around.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Must be,ГўВЂВ™ said Wield. ГўВЂВ?From a quick glance, doesnГўВЂВ™t seem to have been any real damage either to person or property.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?More by luck than judgment,ГўВЂВ™ growled Patten. ГўВЂВ?That fat cow, the one called Cap, she belted one of my lads in the belly with them cutters and looked like she was going to have a swing at my head with them till that skinny lass caught a hold of her.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Walker?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Aye. The one who found the bones in the first place. Got the impression your fat boss knew her. She been in trouble for this kind of thing before?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?No. Not animal rights. She was one of them Women Against Pit Closures lot that got going during the Strike.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Is that right?ГўВЂВ™ Patten pulled at his lip and said, ГўВЂВ?DidnГўВЂВ™t think you lot, CID I mean, got mixed up with that. Thought it was all uniformed out there beating up the pickets.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Preserving the peace,ГўВЂВ™ corrected Wield gently. ГўВЂВ?No, we got involved because there was a murder, out at Burrthorpe, you might have read about it.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?No, I donГўВЂВ™t recall. 1984, itГўВЂВ™d be? I was nobbut a lad, not long in the army, still pretty much a lily.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?A what?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Lily. What we called a sprog in our mob. So, this Walker woman, sheГўВЂВ™s had a change of heart, has she? Moved from miners to monkeys?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Some folk need a cause,ГўВЂВ™ said Wield. ГўВЂВ?And we like to keep a close eye on all of them. Perhaps IГўВЂВ™d better have a word with Jimmy Howard just to make sure IГўВЂВ™ve got the full picture.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Sorry, heГўВЂВ™s gone off duty,ГўВЂВ™ said Patten.

ГўВЂВ?WhenГўВЂВ™s he back on?ГўВЂВ™

Patten swivelled round to examine a wall chart which wouldnГўВЂВ™t have disgraced the Pentagon. Next to it hung a photo of three men smiling into the camera. On the left was Patten, wearing TecSec uniform. The man on the right ГўВЂВ“ small with a round smiling face beneath tightly packed blond curls ГўВЂВ“ was similarly dressed. His name tag was too small to read except for the initial R. In the centre, elegant in a well-cut, dark grey pinstripe suit, was a lean handsome man who looked as if he might have a very good opinion of himself, not altogether unjustified.

ГўВЂВ?Should have gone off at six this morning in fact,ГўВЂВ™ added Patten, ГўВЂВ?but did an extra stag ГўВЂВ™cos of all the excitement, so I shouldnГўВЂВ™t bother him at home till heГўВЂВ™s had time to catch up on his beauty sleep.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Oh, shanГўВЂВ™t need to do that,ГўВЂВ™ said Wield negligently. ГўВЂВ?Likely these reports youГўВЂВ™ve given me will do. Seems a well-organized firm, TecSec. Good mob to work for, are they?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?I donГўВЂВ™t work for ГўВЂВ™em,ГўВЂВ™ said Patten, ГўВЂВ?IГўВЂВ™m a partner.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Sorry. I thought seeing you out here in the uniform ГўВЂВ¦ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Like the army, guys who really run the show are out there in the field getting shot at. My partnerГўВЂВ™s out most of the time drumming up business while IГўВЂВ™m out making sure the business weГўВЂВ™ve got gets done properly. ThereГўВЂВ™s a girl back in the office knows where to get hold of us.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Sounds good,ГўВЂВ™ said Wield rising. ГўВЂВ?If ever I need security IГўВЂВ™ll know where to come. Thanks for the tea.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?My pleasure.ГўВЂВ™

At the door Wield paused and said, ГўВЂВ?Your security fence, the inner one, you say theyГўВЂВ™d not have got through that with a pair of wire cutters. Why not use the same stuff for the first lot of wire?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Expense,ГўВЂВ™ said Patten. ГўВЂВ?Costs a fortune that stuff, and youГўВЂВ™d need a lot more ГўВЂВ™cos itГўВЂВ™s a bigger circle. Also ГўВЂВ¦ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Yes?ГўВЂВ™ prompted Wield.

ГўВЂВ?No use fighting people unless you let ГўВЂВ™em close enough to get shot,ГўВЂВ™ said Patten, this time with no attempt at a grin.

xiii (#ulink_e85ff338-f76b-55f3-a5c7-b2917b4db7c0)

The atmosphere in the Pascoe household had remained definitely overcast with poor air quality till Rosie on her return from school burst in on it like the wild west wind. She flung herself on her father as if heГўВЂВ™d been away for a decade not a day and gripped him in a stranglehold which would have won style points from a Thug, the whiles rattling off a stream-of-consciousness account of all that had happened to her during their long separation.

Also in there somewhere were expressions of gratitude for her prezzie which at first he took to be creatively predictive, and he was seeking a form of words which would explain why fathers after such a short absence on such a sad mission should be allowed to come home empty handed when it dawned on him that the thanks were for a present received not a gift anticipated.

He glanced at Ellie who mouthed, ГўВЂВ?The secretaire.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Eh?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Rosie saw the secretaire in the hall and she asked me if youГўВЂВ™d brought it for her to keep her things in and I said you may very well have.ГўВЂВ™

After a recent and ideologically very dubious spat between Ellie and her daughter about the state of her room, Pascoe had asserted his paterfamilial authority with the promise of a large gin and tonic for his wife and a large storage chest for his Rosie. He had in mind something in puce plastic, but the little girlГўВЂВ™s refined taste could sometimes be as surprising as her occasionally fluorescent language.

ГўВЂВ?You like it, do you?ГўВЂВ™ said Pascoe.

ГўВЂВ?Oh yes. I think itГўВЂВ™s bloody marvellous,ГўВЂВ™ she answered very seriously.

He caught EllieГўВЂВ™s eye again and she gave him an I-donГўВЂВ™t-know-where-she-gets-it-from look. Since going to school Rosie had moved up a linguistic gear and like Caliban, her profit on it was she now knew how to curse. The problem was to stop her from cursing without letting her know that she had been.

Pascoe said, ГўВЂВ?It belonged to Granny Pascoe and she wanted you to have it.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Granny whoГўВЂВ™s dead?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?ThatГўВЂВ™s right.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Is she a ghost?ГўВЂВ™ asked Rosie uneasily.

ГўВЂВ?You know thereГўВЂВ™s no such thing as ghosts, so she canГўВЂВ™t be, can she?ГўВЂВ™ said Ellie briskly.

ГўВЂВ?No,ГўВЂВ™ said Rosie without conviction.

Pascoe put his mouth to her ear and said, ГўВЂВ?And if she is, sheГўВЂВ™ll be a ghost down in Warwickshire, because everyone knows ghosts have got to do their haunting round the place where they died.ГўВЂВ™

The little girl looked greatly relieved though he saw Ellie grimace at this betrayal of rational principles. But she was as pleased as he was at this solution to the problem of AdaГўВЂВ™s writing desk.

ГўВЂВ?Told you it would find its place,ГўВЂВ™ she gasped as they collapsed on RosieГўВЂВ™s bed after lugging the secretaire upstairs.

ГўВЂВ?Clever old you,ГўВЂВ™ he said, grinning, and the truce might have been sealed with more than a loving kiss if Rosie hadnГўВЂВ™t demanded their help in tidying away all her dolls, toys and other impedimenta into her new store cupboard.

At seven oГўВЂВ™clock with Rosie safely stowed in bed and Ellie making ready for her party, Pascoe was in the kitchen pouring himself a lager when the doorbell rang. He heard EllieГўВЂВ™s footsteps on the stairs and her voice calling, ГўВЂВ?IГўВЂВ™ll get it.ГўВЂВ™

Wendy Walker again? he wondered. No. SheГўВЂВ™d just said she wanted a lift back. Or this time, perhaps it was the Fat Man, come to see for himself that heГўВЂВ™d got safely home. Bastard!

But when Ellie came into the kitchen she wasnГўВЂВ™t wearing her Apocalypse Now face, though she was wearing a silk dress which struck him as being a touch showy for such a proletarian celebration.

ГўВЂВ?Chap called Hilary Studholme to see you,ГўВЂВ™ she said.

ГўВЂВ?Eye patch, one arm, and a limp?ГўВЂВ™ he asked.

ГўВЂВ?Or grey hair, his own teeth and a nice smile,ГўВЂВ™ said Ellie. ГўВЂВ?Could it be the same guy?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Not in court, it couldnГўВЂВ™t,ГўВЂВ™ said Pascoe. ГўВЂВ?LetГўВЂВ™s see.ГўВЂВ™

The major was standing by the fireplace looking rather ill at ease.

ГўВЂВ?Nice to see you again,ГўВЂВ™ said Pascoe remembering to offer his left hand. ГўВЂВ?Do sit down. I was just pouring myself a drink. Can I get you anything?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Orange juice, anything non-alc. There are those of your colleagues who feel I shouldnГўВЂВ™t have a licence. MustnГўВЂВ™t always help the police, must we?ГўВЂВ™

He smiled his nice smile. From the doorway Ellie said, ГўВЂВ?IГўВЂВ™ll get the drinks.ГўВЂВ™

Seating himself opposite his visitor, Pascoe said, ГўВЂВ?So what brings you into my neck of the woods, major?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Dining out this way with friends. Was going to ring you in the morning, but thought face to face better. Especially as I wanted to show you something.ГўВЂВ™

He picked up a large envelope which he had set down on a coffee table, flicked the flap open with his thumb and shook some photographs out.

They were all of soldiers in Great War uniform. Two were formal groups, the other was informal, showing four men resting against a gun limber. Their clothes were mud-stained and their efforts to look cheerful sat on their fatigued faces like prostitutesГўВЂВ™ smiles.

ГўВЂВ?Anyone you recognize?ГўВЂВ™ said Studholme.

ГўВЂВ?Good lord,ГўВЂВ™ said Ellie whoГўВЂВ™d returned with the drinks which she was setting down on the table. ГўВЂВ?There you are again, Peter.ГўВЂВ™

This time, even Pascoe couldnГўВЂВ™t deny the resemblance between himself and one of the exhausted soldiers. It was less clear in the group pictures, but Ellie went with unerring accuracy to a face which had Studholme nodding his agreement.

ГўВЂВ?So whatГўВЂВ™s your point?ГўВЂВ™ said Pascoe. ГўВЂВ?You think this is my great-grandfather, is that it?ГўВЂВ™

It didnГўВЂВ™t seem to him a particularly exciting discovery, certainly not one to bring Studholme even a short distance out of his way.

The major said, ГўВЂВ?You mentioned a photograph you had?ГўВЂВ™

With the perfect timing she had inherited from her mother, Rosie pushed open the door and came in, barefooted and nightgowned, carrying the photograph from AdaГўВЂВ™s secretaire.

ГўВЂВ?Look what I found, Daddy,ГўВЂВ™ she said.

ГўВЂВ?Good God,ГўВЂВ™ said Pascoe, taking the photo. ГўВЂВ?I was twice your age before I learned how to open that drawer.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Girls mature quicker,ГўВЂВ™ observed Ellie. ГўВЂВ?But that doesnГўВЂВ™t mean they donГўВЂВ™t need their sleep. Come on. Back to bed with you, Lady Macbeth.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?But why is Daddy wearing those funny clothes?ГўВЂВ™ asked Rosie who had learned early on that the way to delay her mother from any undesirable course of action was to ask as many questions as possible.

ГўВЂВ?ItГўВЂВ™s not me, darling,ГўВЂВ™ interposed Pascoe. ГўВЂВ?ItГўВЂВ™s your great-great-granddad, and he just happened to look a tiny little bit like me.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?He looks the spitting image of you,ГўВЂВ™ said Ellie. ГўВЂВ?DoesnГўВЂВ™t he, dear?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Fucking right he does,ГўВЂВ™ agreed Rosie.

Pascoe winced and glanced an apology at the major whose one visible eyebrow arched quizzically. Ellie caught the girl up in her arms and said, ГўВЂВ?Off we go. Say good-night.ГўВЂВ™

There was a momentГўВЂВ™s pause which had Pascoe wondering if his daughter was rifling her word-horde for one of the less conventional valedictory forms such as, ГўВЂВ?DonГўВЂВ™t let the bastards grind you downГўВЂВ™ or ГўВЂВ?Up yours, arseholeГўВЂВ™, but she contented herself with a long-suffering ГўВЂВ?Goodnight thenГўВЂВ™ over her motherГўВЂВ™s shoulder.

ГўВЂВ?She is making surprising progress at school,ГўВЂВ™ said Pascoe when the door had closed.

ГўВЂВ?Indeed,ГўВЂВ™ said Studholme dryly.

He took the photograph from PascoeГўВЂВ™s hand and studied it, then set it alongside the ones heГўВЂВ™d brought.

ГўВЂВ?Might be doubles,ГўВЂВ™ he said. ГўВЂВ?Such things happen. Anything can. But chances are theyГўВЂВ™re the same. WouldnГўВЂВ™t you agree?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Well, yes. But so what? Do you have a name for the chap in your pics?ГўВЂВ™ asked Pascoe.

ГўВЂВ?Yes. Names for nearly all of them. One of my predecessors was very thorough back in the twenties. Double-checked with survivors. ThatГўВЂВ™s why I came.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Because this is definitely Corporal Clark?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Sergeant at the end. And not Clark. Here. Look.ГўВЂВ™

He produced a sheet of paper on which someone had patiently traced one of the groups in outline with numbers instead of faces. Below was a key.

Pascoe checked the number of his lookalike. Twenty-two. Then he dropped his gaze to the key.

He was glad he wasnГўВЂВ™t standing. Even sitting he felt the chair lurch beneath his behind and saw the air shimmer like the onset of migraine. He blinked it clear and reread the entry.

No 22. Pascoe Peter (Corporal).

ГўВЂВ?Is this your idea of a joke?ГўВЂВ™ he said steadily.

ГўВЂВ?No joke,ГўВЂВ™ said Studholme regarding him closely and with concern.

ГўВЂВ?Then what? CanГўВЂВ™t be right. My grandmother was Ada Clark who became a Pascoe by marriage, so how could this be her father? Hang on though. DidnГўВЂВ™t you say there was a Pascoe in the Wyfies at Third Wipers? Surely this is just a mix up of names?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?That was Private Stephen Pascoe. He got wounded not killed. This Corporal Peter, later sergeant, is someone else.ГўВЂВ™

Ellie came back in.

ГўВЂВ?I think sheГўВЂВ™ll go to sleep now but donГўВЂВ™t let her play you up. IГўВЂВ™d better be on my way. Peter, you OK?ГўВЂВ™

He forced a smile.

ГўВЂВ?Yes. Fine. IГўВЂВ™ll check in a little while. Enjoy yourself.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?IГўВЂВ™ll try. Major Studholme, nice to meet you. Sorry IГўВЂВ™ve got to dash. ГўВЂВ?Bye.ГўВЂВ™

She was gone. She was good at exits thought Pascoe with the envy of one who usually made an awkward bow.

Studholme was standing up.

ГўВЂВ?IГўВЂВ™d better be on my way too,ГўВЂВ™ he said. ГўВЂВ?Bad form, being late.ГўВЂВ™

Pascoe didnГўВЂВ™t rise but studied the other from his chair. With Dalziel breathing down your neck for all those years, one thing you practised till it became instinctive was the art of detailed observation. He let his gaze drift down StudholmeГўВЂВ™s clothing from his collar to his toecaps. He was beginning to feel something which if not anger, had a deal of anger in it.

ГўВЂВ?Late for what?ГўВЂВ™ he asked. ГўВЂВ?If I had to make a guess, major, IГўВЂВ™d say you werenГўВЂВ™t going anywhere. All that about having dinner with friends in this neck of the woods is a load of baloney, isnГўВЂВ™t it?ГўВЂВ™

Studholme brushed his forefinger across his moustache and said in a voice which had more of interest than indignation in it, ГўВЂВ?And on what would you base such an unmannerly speculation?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?You havenГўВЂВ™t changed from when I saw you this morning. Same shirt, same tie, same jacket, same trousers. You havenГўВЂВ™t even given your shoes a rub. Oh you look tidy enough, donГўВЂВ™t misunderstand me, but IГўВЂВ™m certain a man like you wouldnГўВЂВ™t go to dine with friends without changing your shirt at least.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Man like me? Little presumptuous on such short acquaintance, isnГўВЂВ™t it?ГўВЂВ™

Again mildly curious rather than outraged.

ГўВЂВ?YouГўВЂВ™ve known me exactly the same length of time,ГўВЂВ™ said Pascoe who could play this game till the cows came home and went out again. ГўВЂВ?Yet you feel you know me well enough to decide that whatever it really was that you came here to say might be best left unsaid. HowГўВЂВ™s that for presumption?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Pretty extreme,ГўВЂВ™ the major admitted with the hint of a smile. ГўВЂВ?All right. May have been wrong. Still canГўВЂВ™t be sure.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?ThereГўВЂВ™s only one way to find out,ГўВЂВ™ said Pascoe. ГўВЂВ?Like another drink?ГўВЂВ™

Studholme shook his head.

ГўВЂВ?Thanks but IГўВЂВ™ll wait till I get home and can treat myself to a real nightcap. No offence, excellent orange juice.ГўВЂВ™

He sat down again, easing his right leg straight out in front of him. Did he have a prosthesis or just some muscle damage? wondered Pascoe. He felt a sympathetic twinge in his own leg damaged when heГўВЂВ™d been trapped down Burrthorpe Main. Theoretically heГўВЂВ™d made a complete recovery from that traumatic experience. His mind had other ideas.

He said, ГўВЂВ?So whatГўВЂВ™s the big mystery, major?ГўВЂВ™

Studholme said, ГўВЂВ?Tell me first of all. Your grandmother, why do you think she wanted her ashes scattered at regimental HQ?ГўВЂВ™

It was honesty time.

ГўВЂВ?Not as a mark of respect, thatГўВЂВ™s for certain,ГўВЂВ™ said Pascoe. ГўВЂВ?She hated all things military, and the Wyfies in particular. If I had to guess, IГўВЂВ™d say it was the nearest she could get to spitting in somebodyГўВЂВ™s face.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Any idea why she felt so strongly?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?She lost her father in the war.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Millions did.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?We all find our own way of dealing with things.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Indeed,ГўВЂВ™ said the major frowning. ГўВЂВ?Though this was extreme.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?But you think you know why.ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Not absolutely certainГўВЂВ”ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?I think you are,ГўВЂВ™ interrupted Pascoe. ГўВЂВ?Perhaps not when you arrived, but now ГўВЂВ¦ yet you were going to go without saying anything. Why?ГўВЂВ™

ГўВЂВ?Because of your face when you saw the name on that list. You looked like a man looking at his own tomb. I felt, perhaps it would be better ГўВЂВ¦ГўВЂВ™

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