The Wood Beyond

'Yeah. Great result,' said Wield.

'What about Ambler? No cracks there?'

'Butter wouldn't melt.'

'In her mouth?'

'In her anything,' said Wield savagely.

'You don't like her?'

'I saw her injecting a little monkey.'

Pascoe raised his eyebrows at this nonprofessional reaction from the man he'd always regarded as the acme of professionalism. Perhaps Dalziel was right and the sergeant had undergone some sea change in Enscombe.

'Anyway it'll clear the decks, and we'll need plenty of space to get this business with Marvell sorted.'

'Finding out who killed Walker, you mean,' emended Wield gently.

'Yes, that's what I meant. Listen, I reckon it's time I met the famous Cap. Why don't you see if you can make contact with Walker's sister-in-law, the widow in Redcar, see if she'd heard anything recently? Someone ought to tell her the news anyway.'

'I think mebbe I'll leave that to the locals,' said Wield. 'But I will have a word myself. After I've been back to Wanwood.'

'Wanwood? Look, forget those files for the time being. We've more important fish to fry.'

'Not the files. I wanted to have a word with Dr Batty about drug records and staff supervision. He was busy this morning so I didn't like to press.'

Pascoe grinned and said, 'Meaning you reckon you can keep Jimmy banged up so long as you're still pursuing enquiries. When's his first twenty-four hours up? About tea time? I don't think anyone's going to give you an extension.'

'Me neither,' said Wield. 'How's Ellie?'

'Fine. Why?'

'Walker was a mate, wasn't she? And from what she told us yesterday, it strikes me she could easily start blaming herself.'

The same thought had occurred to Pascoe the previous night, but there'd been little sign of breast-beating from his wife so he'd thought it best to let sleeping dogs lie. Wield's concern still came as a reproach.

'She's fine. I'm just going to give her a ring actually.'

The phone was answered on the second ring as if Ellie had been expecting a call.

He said, 'Hi, love. How are you?'

'Pretty well. Anything happening?'

'Just proceeding with enquiries. Which means that Cap's spent most of the morning with her solicitor while we've been checking everything twice.'

'And?'

'And she's still in the frame. Good news is, Andy's out of it. I'm in charge now.'

'Good God. What did you use? A bulldozer?'

'He went like a lamb. You sure you're OK?'

'Yes. Well, still a bit numb. Listen, if you're worried I think it's all my fault, well I do, a bit. But I'm not sure how much till you idle sods find out what really happened. Like the man said, guilt without responsibility is the prerogative of the masochist throughout the ages. And while I don't mind a bit of biting by way of erotic arousal, I draw the line at the whip. But I'm glad you rang. I've just had Poll Pollinger on the line.'

'Oh yes. Any luck?'

'Well she's seen the file on the court martial, but says that her pet colonel reckoned the Ministry of D would make whatever she can do to him seem painless if he let her make photocopies. What she did though was make pretty comprehensive notes of the things she thought you'd want to know. Even these are a bit risky and she wanted to make sure that either you or I were around before she faxed them here. Even as we speak the modern marvel which turns your house into a litter bin is starting to talk. Hang on a sec. I'll just check to make sure it is Poll's notes and not some double-glazing hand-out.'

There was a pause then she resumed. 'Yes, it is. "Field General Court Martial of Sergeant Peter Pascoe convened at Zillebeke November 1917, Officer Presiding-"'

'Yes, fine,' interrupted Pascoe. 'I'll see it all later. Not sure when. If I'm going to be late, I'll try to let you know..'

'Hang on, Peter. Before you go. That chap who called the other night, the rather charming military gent with bits missing. What was his name?'

'Studholme. Major Hilary Studholme. Why?'

'Well, just a coincidence perhaps, but your great-granddad's Prisoner's Friend, which Poll glosses as untrained defence counsel, is down here as Captain Thomas Hilary Studholme of the West Yorkshire Fusiliers. Interesting, huh?'

For a moment Pascoe was back in the museum mock-up of the front-line trench with the lifelike dummy reclining on the camp bed, open on his breast a copy of The Wood Beyond the World inscribed To Hillie with love from Mummy.

'Peter, you still there?'

'Yes,' he said. 'I am. And you're right. Very interesting indeed.'

When Wield arrived at Wanwood, Des Patten was waiting for him.

'What's the word on Jimmy Howard?' he asked.

'Helping with enquiries,' said Wield.

'You gonna do him for drugs? No, don't look like that. It's not a guilty secret. Tony Beasley gave the captain a bell.'

'So much for client confidentiality. Would it bother you if we did?'

'I'd have to hire a replacement.'

'So, not personally?'

Patten shrugged.

'I hate to see anyone getting into bother, but there's bother and bother. Like in the mob, one of your men gets himself in trouble for nutting some short-changing barman or shagging some local scrubber, you rally round, send him on a course, say he was on guard duty that night. He gets in bother with stealing a mate's dosh, or flogging his ring down the park, then that's it. He's out, and good riddance.'

'How about a drugs charge?'

'Out. In both cases. In the mob, no one wants a hop-head backing you up.'

'And in TecSec?'

'We're very particular. Get a criminal record and it's goodbye.'

'Not bothered by driving over the limit though? Or driving without a licence?'

Patten frowned.

'Over the limit can happen to anyone,' he said. 'But not having a licence.. that's plain stupid. I didn't know. We sometimes do driving jobs. That could have got us in big bother.'

'He's got himself in it, certainly. But the way it's looking, that might be all he's facing. No way your clever young brief's going to get him off that.'

'Beasley was the captain's idea. Very paternalistic, the captain. Good quality in an officer, getting close to the men. That's why they have NCOs to make sure they don't take it too far.'

'Like with Rosso?'

Dalziel had passed on Piers Pitt-Evenlode's revelations about Buster Sanderson's interesting military career.

'What's that mean?' said Patten, very alert.

'Just that he must have been very upset by the accident.'

'He was,' said Patten. 'Very upset. Dr Batty's waiting for you. I'd tread careful. He's not in a very good mood today.'

He turned smartly on his heel and marched away.

Dismissed, thought Wield.

Batty jumped up from his armchair as Wield entered the staff sitting room. He looked pale and drawn as if he hadn't slept much last night.

'Sergeant,' he said running his hand through his soft brown hair. 'What's all this about Jane Ambler?'

'Do you use ketamine hydrochloride in your labs, sir?' said Wield.

'K? Why yes. Sometimes. What's that got to do with anything?'

'What do you use it for, sir?'

'As a relaxant. In certain circumstances as an anaesthetic. It was developed by the Americans for veterinary purposes initially, and because our experimental animals are used in tests which can involve anything from new drugs to surgery we have to have available a wide variety of control techniques so we can be quite sure whatever tests we're conducting on a new drug, say, aren't being affected by an existing drug …'

'I'm with you,' said Wield. 'So would it be possible for you to check your supplies of K and see if any is missing?'

'How much are we talking?'

'Twelve capsules.'

Batty shook his head in irritation as if Wield had said something stupid.