Death's Jest-Book (57 page)

'No, sir’ said Pascoe.
'Just trying to avoid stepping in this milk of human kindness
someone's spilt all over the floor.'

'Ha bloody ha. That's the trouble
with you poncy liberals. Think you've cornered the market in heart.'

‘Talking of which, sir, do
you really think Wieldy's right to be concerned about Lubanski?'

'Shouldn't imagine so,' said
Dalziel.

'Then why did you send him to
look for the lad?'

' 'Cos if we're going to start
taking this Hoard thing seriously, I wouldn't mind half an hour with
the little scrote myself, see what he really knows. This seemed as
good a way as any to get Wieldy to bring him in without coming over
all maternal. Can't abide to see a grown man crying, that's always
been my trouble. So stop worrying, he'll be back with his likely lad
in half an hour and then I'll really give the young sod something to
suck on!'

But
for once Andy Dalziel was wrong.

More than an hour had passed
before Wield returned, and he was alone.

'He wasn't at his address, I
checked out I all the other likely spots and there was no sign.
Someone thought they might have seen him getting into a car, but
couldn't be sure.'

'There you are then,' said Pascoe
reassuringly. 'Off with a punter.'

'It's the middle of the sodding
day!'

'Come on, Wieldy! What's that got
to do with anything? OK, maybe it was a mate who picked him up. Your
witness said "getting into a car", not "being dragged"
into it. So wherever he is, he's gone willingly and I don't doubt
he'll be back in his own good time.'

Dalziel returned from dealing
with the happily unscalded Immigration official.

'Not a bad fellow,' he opined.
'Mad eyes and shoulders on him like an ox. Don't know if that
influenced Aiif, but he were real co-operative. Put his hand up like
teacher's pet. Likely that call Belch made from his car were to
whoever's behind Turk. Belch and him had had a word, Turk wanted to
know what the deal was if he look the rap, Belch passes the word. Up
goes Turk's kand and the buck stops there.'

Wield said, 'Let's hope you're
right.' But he didn't sound very hopeful.

And when six o'clock arrived with
still no sign of Lubanski, he reembraced his first theory with
renewed passion.

'I think k's time we had a word
with Belchamber’ he said forcefully.

'And what's he going to say? Yes,
I fixed for Lee to be kidnapped? Get real, Wieldy.'

'Depends how you put the
question’ said Wield grimly.

Pascoe and Dalziel exchanged
glances.

The Fat Man said, 'I can see it's
an attractive notion, Wieldy, taking Belch somewhere quiet and
kicking his guts till he spills them. But you'd have to go all the
way and kill him 'cos if there's one person a good cop doesn't want
coming after him with a complaint, it's Marcus Belchamber.'

Pascoe, seeking a less basic
appeal, said, 'More importantly, if you're wrong about this, and
Belchamber's got no reason to think Lee has been grassing him up, you
could be dropping Lee right in it, plus we'll have shown our hands in
a big way.' .

Wield considered this then said,
'Let's say you're right. So why's Lee vanished?'

'Simple’ said Dalziel. 'You
warned him that what he was doing could be dangerous, right? Told him
to take care’

'Yes, but he wasn't taking a damn
bit of notice’ said Wield.

'Might give that impression, kids
like him live on bravado, eh? Show you're scared in the streets and
you're knackered. But he trusts you, Wieldy, everything you've said
about him shows that. So you say something, it'll have sunk in. Then
what happens? He's sitting with you in Turk's and suddenly the place
is full of cops. I know you explain it's nowt to do with you, but
even if he believes you, it's a reminder. You may be a wise old
father-figure, but you're a cop as well, and he's been cosying up to
you in public, and God knows who's been watching. So maybe it's time
he took a little holiday. Business has been good, he's got a bit in
the bank. Wouldn't surprise me if he wasn't on his way to Marbella
this very moment’

It was logical, it was
persuasive. Pascoe could see Wield setting the Fat Man's hypothesis
alongside everything he knew about Lubanski and getting a good match.

Also it gave him real hope and
that's a bait it takes a Beckett to spit out.

'All right’ he said. 'You
could be right. But if you're not. . ‘

He left his threat unspoken, or
perhaps he simply hadn't yet worked out the details but knew it would
be the terror of the earth.

'You really think he's on his way
to Spain, sir?' said Pascoe after Wield had left.

'Fuck knows. But for the sake of
argument, let's assume he's been kidnapped. Why? 'Cos someone got
worried about what he's been telling Wieldy about Belch's plan. What
has he been telling Wieldy about Belch's plan? Not a lot. Most of
what we think we know about it is loaves and fishes, a big meal based
on a few scraps. But if they tret him like yon Saint Aspidistra you
were asking Ivor about and pulled his teeth out to find out what he'd
said, all they'd hear about were the scraps. And, not knowing what
active imaginations Wieldy and you have got, they likely think
they're still in the clear’

'So if we are right and it's the
Elsecar Hoard they're after, which is being transported here next
Saturday, a week from tomorrow, that doesn't leave much time.'

'No it doesn't, but it's still
not a lot to go on,' grumbled Dalziel. 'What we need is some
silver-tongued bastard full of low cunning who can go down to
Sheffield tomorrow morning and sell them this notion in such a way
that, if it turns out a dud, it's all their fault, and if it turns
out a winner, we get most of the credit.'

That would indeed take a huge
length of silver tongue and a dizzy depth of cunning’ said
Pascoe. 'Have you anyone in mind, sir?'

'Belt up and bugger off,' said
Dalziel.

Pascoe
liked Sheffield. Everyone with an eye for beauty, a nose for
excitement, a taste for variety likes Sheffield. Built on seven hills
like Rome, it is possible to pass from spring in its valleys to
winter on its heights without ever crossing the city boundary.

Perhaps it gets its peculiar buzz
from being a frontier town, for this is where Yorkshire in particular
and the North in general end. After this, wrap it up how you will,
you're into the Midlands. The White Peak bits of Derbyshire may have
something of the North in them, but it's hilly landscape stood on its
head. You are looking down from edges rather than staring up at
heights.

DI Stan Rose was certainly
looking down rather than staring up. His lost snout had been picked
up in London trying to use a dodgy credit card. Rose had gone south
to see him. He'd found a very scared man, showing signs of a recent
severe beating.

As Pascoe heard this, he thought
uneasily of Lee Lubanski. Mate Polchard didn't have a reputation for
gratuitous violence, but he was up for anything that the situation
demanded. And God knows what kind of mindless muscle he was
employing.

Then Rose, unprompted, mentioned
the Elsecar Hoard, and his concern for the missing rent boy
evaporated.

Strong hints that further info on
the Sheffield job could persuade Rose to put in a word when the Met
came to decide how to proceed in the snout's present difficulty had
at first produced only the eloquent comment that he might be better
off inside. To which Rose had replied that, in that case, he would
make sure he got a conditional discharge, then let it be known around
Sheffield that he'd been down for a chat.

Even then, all he got was a date.
January 26th, a week from today, the day the Hoard was being
transferred from Sheffield to Mid-Yorkshire.

'But what made you think of the
Hoard as a target in the first place?' asked Pascoe.

Tolchard's record made me think
it might be a security-van hit, so I researched a list of all
possibles this month,' said Rose proudly. 'When I saw the date
matched the Hoard transfer day, I got all the museum security tapes
and went through them. And you know what, Polchard's visited the
exhibition twice at least. Coat collar turned up, hat pulled down,
but it was definitely him.'

'Perhaps he's just interested in
Roman history,' said Pascoe drily. 'You were going to tell me all
this, weren't you, Stan? I mean, we are talking about next Saturday,
right?'

'Of course I was. I've been
putting some ideas together, just wanted to run them by my boss, he's
been off with this Kung Flu, just got back today, so I was planning
to ring you. Anyway, it's still all a bit speculative, isn't it?'

'I think it's a bit more than
that, Stan,' said Pascoe.

As he explained the reasons for
his visit, Rose had the grace to look positively embarrassed at the
contrast between Pascoe's speedy sharing of new information and his
cards-close-to-the-chest approach.

'Pete, this is really good. This
is all I need to get the go-ahead on my ... on our op.'

'I'm pleased for you. Though of
course if, as seems likely, they're planning to make the hit during
transfer, it's as likely, in fact more likely to take place on Andy
Dalziel's turf.'

He paused a moment just to let
Rose contemplate the life-threatening perils of a power struggle with
the Fat Man, then went on, 'But the guy who takes the call calls the
shots, isn't that what they say? It's your show, Stan. You'll get
full backing from our side of the fence - just as long as we're
getting full intelligence from yours.'

'Pete, that's great. Thanks a
bunch. Look, I've got a lot of ideas for this oppo. I'm calling it
Operation Serpent, by the way. Thought that fitted.'

He spoke almost defiantly and
Pascoe concealed his amusement.

'So why don't we get down to some
hard planning while you're here,' the DI continued.

To be honest, I'd rather get down
to the museum and see what all the fuss is about,' said Pascoe.

He had seen photographs of
various items in the Hoard, but they hadn't prepared him for its full
splendour. It wasn't a huge collection but it had clearly been put
together by a man with an eye for beauty who must have approved the
care which had been taken in setting his pieces out on display.
Rings, bracelets, brooches, necklaces, each was shown to its best
advantage on slowly rotating stands covered with black velvet and lit
by shifting lights which moved from the full glare of sunshine to the
soft glow of candleshine. At the very centre, set on a fibreglass
ovoid, which though faceless somehow invited you to see whatever
features you found most beautiful there, was the serpent coronet.

For a moment as he studied it,
Pascoe almost understood Belchamber's desire for possession. And he
could certainly share his indignation that this treasure was being
allowed out of the country.

They saw the Exhibition Director
and questioned him about the transfer arrangements at the end of the
exhibition. They kept the tone as low-key as possible, stressing that
these were just the routine security enquiries any movement of so
valuable a cargo would require. Prevention might be better than cure,
but neither of them had any desire to alert the gang to their
suspicions and warn them off. As Dalziel once put it, with hardbitten
pros, the only true crime prevention was prison. Anything else was
mere postponement.

One piece of information caught
Pascoe's interest. The transfer was going to be done by Praesidium
Security.

Rose, with a sensitivity to
reaction which boded well for him in his career, noted the flicker of
interest and brought it up as they left the Director's office.

Pascoe told him about the earlier
attack on the Praesidium van and of the link with Belchamber.

'So you think this could have
been some kind of rehearsal?'

'Could be. It would certainly
explain why they weren't that much interested in the money that had
been on board. Though I must say if they think the crew ferrying the
Hoard are going to stop at a caff for tea, they must be seriously
thick.'

Pascoe paused as they passed
through the main foyer. On a noticeboard a poster had caught his eye.
It advertised the one-day conference being held at the university by
the Yorkshire Psychandric Society - and of course today was the day.
He wondered how Pottle's opening address had gone down.

He went closer to check the
details.

Amaryllis Haseen had been on that
morning, so he'd missed her. But Frere Jacques, Roote's guru, was on
after lunch, talking about Third Thought and his new book.

Back at Sheffield HQ he met
Rose's boss. He didn't look well and, despite his assurances that he
was no longer infectious, whenever his chain smoking brought on a
bout of ferocious coughing, Pascoe tried to keep to the windward.