Death

work very hard to keep the cork in.

'Listen’ he'd urged, 'this could be nothing. My advice, don't go shouting round the office. If it comes to nothing, you'll look dafter than before. If it comes to something big, then someone bigger than you will lift it out of your lap. Good security too. Fewer people who know, less chance of some idiot blowing things. Walls have ears, remember?'

This argument seemed to impress. Perhaps Rose had suffered from idle gossip.

'You're right there,' he said. 'Round here they've got bloody tongues too!'

'Anything more from your snout?'

'Still no sign of the bugger. His cronies say he's still in London, but nobody has an address. I bet he's too scared to come back. Someone's really put the frighteners on him.'

'Someone like Mate Polchard?' suggested Pascoe. That kind of strength, yeah.'

They left it that Rose was going to put out cautious feelers to check if Polchard was back in town and, once found, mount a distant surveillance on him.

'It's all owt or nowt,' said Dalziel fretfully. 'This other guy, LB, the one your snout thinks must be one of his creepy computer chums, how's that working out,

‘Wieldy?'

'I'm working on it,' said Wield. 'But these closed chat rooms aren't easy. Lots of checks, codes and passwords. And once you're in, everyone uses screen names.'

'Like Tobe? What sort of fucking name's that?'

'A rather obvious sort, I'd have said’ declared Pascoe. 'I'd guess he calls himself Toby, in reference to Sir Toby Belch in Twelfth Night. Can't work out LB though’

'Better revise your Shakespeare then, hadn't you?' growled Dalziel, who didn't mind showing off himself but deplored it in his underlings. 'This chat room, all else fails, can we do the slimy sod for that?'

'Not unless they're using it to download obscene material under the Act’ said Wield. 'Or procuring minors for illegal acts. But if they're just a bunch of like-minded souls who want a place where they can let it all hang out and talk dirty, it's hard to touch them’

'If he's into this, isn't he likely to be into one of the big hard-core rings?' said Pascoe.

'Possibly’ Wield hesitated, then went on, 'My reading of Belchamber, though, is that he's too careful to let himself get into something like that which he can't really control’

'Not so careful if he chats on the phone with a rent boy dangling from his dick’ said Pascoe.

'I think that's all part of it’ said Wield. 'To a lot of people, danger's an essential part of sex. We've all got extremes we like to go to. If we're lucky, we find someone else willing to make the trip. Belchamber wants the danger, wants the extremes, but he's a lawyer. Maximize the professional profit, minimize the personal risk. That's what he likes so much about Lee. He looks like he's ten, and Belchamber makes him act like he's ten, but in fact he's nineteen. If it all went pear-shaped, what have we got? No law against sexual relations with a nineteen- year-old. So Belchamber gets the paedo's kick without the risk. And doing business while he's getting a blow job is the same. It feels really wild, but he thinks he's too powerful relative to the boy to be in any danger of disclosure’

Pascoe was used to listening to Wield's cool, detailed analyses of situations and cases, but though the tone was as dispassionate as ever, there was some pulse running beneath the surface here that he'd rarely detected before.

Dalziel said, 'Another possibility. We're sure, are we, that this kid, as well as sucking Belchamber's plonker, isn't pulling yours?'

For a moment Pascoe thought the Fat Man was questioning Wield's relationship with Lubanski, then he made the shift from the literal to the figurative.

'Certain, sir,' said Wield. 'And after the Linford case and the Praesidium thing, he's got the track record to back it.'

'The security van thing, tell us about that again. Seems funny for old Belchy to be mixed up with such a bunch of losers.'

Reginald Hill

D amp;P20 – Death's Jest-Book

‘They may be losers, sir,' said Pascoe. 'But we haven't had a sniff of them since. Even the van's vanished off the face of the earth.'

'They'd want something for their efforts, wouldn't they?' growled Dalziel. 'Either it's being gutted and the bits sold off through some dodgy dealer, or maybe they shipped the whole thing across to Ireland and it's running around Dublin as we speak. But what's Belchamber's connection?'

'Don't know. Lubanski came in from the shower -Belchamber likes him clean and smelling of carbolic soap – and just caught the end of a conversation. Belchamber said, 'and the Praesidium van?' and the other guy said, 'we'll hit it Friday'.'

'Not a lot,' said the Fat Man. 'Was this other voice the same as the man in Sheffield?'

‘I asked. Lee couldn't say.'

'Could be the aim of the Praesidium job was to bankroll the big job,' said Pascoe.

'Failed miserably then.'

'So maybe Polchard's had to go elsewhere for the money, which might explain how Belchamber got involved.'

'No, he must've been involved already if he were talking to someone about the van before it got hit,' objected Dalziel. 'Look, until we've got a better idea what we're dealing with – and it could turn out to be a bag of bones after all – let's proceed with caution. Wieldy, I'll leave this lad in your tender loving care for the time being, but if ever I feel the need, I'll pick the young sod up myself and shake him around till I'm sure there's nowt else to come out. Now bugger off, the two of you. We've got nowt but mustard seeds here. I'm relying on you pair either to water them or piss on them pretty damn quick.'

At the door Pascoe paused.

'Sir’ he said.

'What? Unless it's about Roote, in which case sod off, I'm busy.'

'What's Novello doing with her nose stuck in the Wordman file?'

'She's doing what she's been told off to do, lad, and a bit more besides. I'd watch that lass. I reckon she's after your job.'

'And welcome to it most days. Shall I ask her direct then?'

With a sigh, Dalziel explained what he was up to, most of it anyway.

'So how's she doing so far?'

'She's spoken to Pomona, put her on guard.'

He gave Pascoe a quick summary of Novello's account of her visit to the library.

'And Penn was showing Rye bits of the 'Lorelei' poem? Isn't that as good as an admission he was the one did the break-in?'

'Not so. I'd mentioned Lorelei to him and he's sharp at putting things together, is Charley. Couldn't resist stirring the pot a bit, but I reckon the significant thing is Charley apologizing and being what passes for conciliatory in a tyke-bred Kraut. I reckon that Christmas Day really was just down to too much sauce and he regretted it later. He wants Pomona lulled so's his tabloid wolf can gobble up little Red Riding Hood unawares.'

'I see,' said Pascoe. 'Sir, it is going to be all right, isn't it?'

Pascoe, though he hadn't opposed them, had never been totally happy about the liberties they'd taken with the official version of events that day out at Stang Tarn.

'Worried about your pension?' laughed the, Fat Man. 'No need. If it comes to that, you can share mine.'

The laughter still echoing in his ears, How come it's only my pension that's at risk? wondered Pascoe.

Down in the canteen, Shirley Novello and Hat Bowler were looking into the future but with no thought of pensions.

It had been Novello who proposed a chat over a cup of coffee and it hadn't started well.

'I was at the library this morning,' said Novello. 'Had a talk with your girl.'

'What the hell for?' said Hat fiercely.

'Just to see she was all right.'