The Wood Beyond

'Must be,' said Wield. 'From a quick glance, doesn't seem to have been any real damage either to person or property.'

'More by luck than judgment,' growled Patten. '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.'

'Walker?'

'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?'

'No. Not animal rights. She was one of them Women Against Pit Closures lot that got going during the Strike.'

'Is that right?' Patten pulled at his lip and said, 'Didn't think you lot, CID I mean, got mixed up with that. Thought it was all uniformed out there beating up the pickets.'

'Preserving the peace,' corrected Wield gently. 'No, we got involved because there was a murder, out at Burrthorpe, you might have read about it.'

'No, I don't recall. 1984, it'd be? I was nobbut a lad, not long in the army, still pretty much a lily.'

'A what?'

'Lily. What we called a sprog in our mob. So, this Walker woman, she's had a change of heart, has she? Moved from miners to monkeys?' "

'Some folk need a cause,' said Wield. 'And we like to keep a close eye on all of them. Perhaps I'd better have a word with Jimmy Howard just to make sure I've got the full picture.'

'Sorry, he's gone off duty,' said Patten.

'When's he back on?'

Patten swivelled round to examine a wall chart which wouldn'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 — small with a round smiling face beneath tightly packed blond curls — 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.

'Should have gone off at six this morning in fact,' added Patten, 'but did an extra stag 'cos of all the excitement, so I shouldn't bother him at home till he's had time to catch up on his beauty sleep.'

'Oh, shan't need to do that,' said Wield negligently. 'Likely these reports you've given me will do. Seems a well-organized firm, TecSec. Good mob to work for, are they?'

'I don't work for 'em,' said Patten, 'I'm a partner.'

'Sorry. I thought seeing you out here in the uniform …'

'Like the army, guys who really run the show are out there in the field getting shot at. My partner's out most of the time drumming up business while I'm out making sure the business we've got gets done properly. There's a girl back in the office knows where to get hold of us.'

'Sounds good,' said Wield rising. 'If ever I need security I'll know where to come. Thanks for the tea.'

'My pleasure.'

At the door Wield paused and said, 'Your security fence, the inner one, you say they'd not have got through that with a pair of wire cutters. Why not use the same stuff for the first lot of wire?'

'Expense,' said Patten. 'Costs a fortune that stuff, and you'd need a lot more 'cos it's a bigger circle. Also …'

'Yes?' prompted Wield.

'No use fighting people unless you let 'em close enough to get shot,' said Patten, this time with no attempt at a grin.

xiii

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 he'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, 'The secretaire.'

'Eh?'

'Rosie saw the secretaire in the hall and she asked me if you'd brought it for her to keep her things in and I said you may very well have.'

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 girl's refined taste could sometimes be as surprising as her occasionally fluorescent language.

'You like it, do you?' said Pascoe.

'Oh yes. I think it's bloody marvellous,' she answered very seriously.

He caught Ellie's eye again and she gave him an I-don'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, 'It belonged to Granny Pascoe and she wanted you to have it.'

'Granny who's dead?'

'That's right.'

'Is she a ghost?' asked Rosie uneasily.

'You know there's no such thing as ghosts, so she can't be, can she?' said Ellie briskly.

'No,' said Rosie without conviction.

Pascoe put his mouth to her ear and said, 'And if she is, she'll be a ghost down in Warwickshire, because everyone knows ghosts have got to do their haunting round the place where they died.'

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 Ada's writing desk.

'Told you it would find its place,’she gasped as they collapsed on Rosie's bed after lugging the secretaire upstairs.

'Clever old you,’ he said, grinning, and the truce might have been sealed with more than a loving kiss if Rosie hadn't demanded their help in tidying away all her dolls, toys and other impedimenta into her new store cupboard.

At seven o'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 Ellie's footsteps on the stairs and her voice calling, 'I'll get it.'

Wendy Walker again? he wondered. No. She'd just said she wanted a lift back. Or this time, perhaps it was the Fat Man, come to see for himself that he'd got safely home. Bastard!

But when Ellie came into the kitchen she wasn'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.

'Chap called Hilary Studholme to see you,' she said.

'Eye patch, one arm, and a limp?' he asked.

'Or grey hair, his own teeth and a nice smile,' said Ellie. 'Could it be the same guy?'

'Not in court, it couldn't,' said Pascoe. 'Let's see.'

The major was standing by the fireplace looking rather ill at ease.

'Nice to see you again,' said Pascoe remembering to offer his left hand. 'Do sit down. I was just pouring myself a drink. Can I get you anything?'

'Orange juice, anything non-alc. There are those of your colleagues who feel I shouldn't have a licence. Mustn't always help the police, must we?'

He smiled his nice smile. From the doorway Ellie said, 'I'll get the drinks.'

Seating himself opposite his visitor, Pascoe said, 'So what brings you into my neck of the woods, major?'

'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.'