He said, 'What mob?'
'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.'
It was clearly a bitter memory.
'So you've ended up deskbound,' said Wield with provocative sympathy.
'Yeah. Well, not all the time, and at least I'm doing something useful.'
'Guarding this place is useful?'
'It's important work they do and they've a right to do it in peace.'
'You reckon? Bit of overkill that mess out there, isn't it?'
'You reckon?' mimicked Patten. '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 watchman'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. That'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 they've always done. Now if they come, they've got to cross the open. We've got lights and cameras, and there's an alarmed security fence it'll take more than a pair of ordinary wire cutters to get through. Installation's expensive, I agree. But once it's done they're secure forever, and that's worth more than money to a firm like ALBA.'
'I can see that,' said Wield pleasantly. '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.'
'Not to me.'
'What about Dr Batty?'
'Couldn't say. But if they did, I'm pretty damn sure he'd have said carry on regardless. Old stones can mean a lot of bearded wonders slapping a preservation order on you if you're not careful.'
He gave Wield a conspiratorial all-mates-together grin which sat uneasily on his scarred and watchful face.
Wield said, 'I'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.'
'Why's that?' said Patten, matiness gone.
'In case ALBA fancy bringing charges. Trespass is no good as far as the house goes, as technically they were invited in, so they'd need to go for criminal damage, assault even. So we'll need statements.'
'Save you the bother,' said Patten delving into his desk. 'We got our system too. Full reports on any incident. Here, take a look, all signed and sealed.'
He handed a thin file across. Wield looked inside. The reports were all there, full of necessary detail of time, place, duration.
'Everything in order?' said Patten. 'Jimmy Howard keeps us straight on rules of evidence. Useful having an ex-cop around.'
'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.
