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.
He was less convinced than his DI that Pascoe's news meant there was definitely a heist attempt in the offing, but he questioned him closely about Andy Dalziel's attitude. Obviously the Fat Man's opinions carried weight everywhere. Finally he gave Rose that conditional blessing which Pascoe well recognized. Interpreted, it meant: your triumph is ours, your cock-ups are your own.
But Stan Rose was delighted. Outside the smoky room, he said, 'Pete, let me buy you some lunch. Least I can do. I owe you.'
Pascoe said, 'Thanks, Stan, but there's something I need to do up at the university. Talking of which, there is something… Remember that boy Frobisher, the one Sergeant Wield asked you about way back in connection with that lecturer's death on our patch…?'
'Yeah, I remember him. Accidental overdose trying to stay awake to finish his work.'
'That's the one. Look, while I'm here I'd like to poke around the house he lived in, have a word with any of his mates who are still there, nothing heavy – but if anyone got stroppy, it would be good to say I'd checked, it out with you.'
Rose was regarding him like a poor relation who'd fsuddenly mentioned money.
This anything to do with that fellow Roote?' he asked.
'Distantly.'
'Pete, this is a non-suspicious death, all done and dusted.'
'From what you said, his sister didn't think so.'
'What are sisters for? Pete, it's a waste of time.'
'You're probably right. And I realize I should be devoting all my energies to assisting you in this Hoard oppo…'
