Youre not so brave without your bully-boys, are you, Dalziel? said Cockshut. t there enough of them? Have they gone for help?
Its provocation thats what it is! shrieked a hysterical little girl.
Bloody deliberate provocation.
She was an ugly little thing, hardly coming up to Dalziels chest and he felt a pang of pity for her. This was obviously the most exciting experience she had ever had in her life.
Provocation! Provocation! Others took up the chant. It only lasted a minute, however, and as it died down Dalziel shouted, using all the projection power of his large lungs, , if I can provoke all you lot just by myself, Id better become a pop-singer! Now Im off to my bed.
Good night!
There was a ripple of laughter, then someone started singing, night, Dalziel, Good night, Dalziel. Good night, Dalziel, its time to say goodbye.
They all took it up and opened up an avenue through their midst.
Feeling relieved, though showing nothing on his face, he began to walk towards the now very attractive sanctuary of the entrance to his block.
He had nearly reached it when another sound became audible above the singing, which died away as the students too became aware of it. Dalziels first reaction was incredulity, followed immediately by anger.
It was the noise of a siren, swiftly approaching, and the glare of strong headlights was already visible at intervals along the main road which swung in a broad curve away to the west.
The bastards are coming back, said someone.
You rotten lying pig.
Tat, stinking
Liar! Shitting liar!
Bugger bugger bugger!
It was the little ugly girl again. She began to rain futile blows on his chest with little fists clenched like pigs trotters. The others began to press round and Dalziel felt himself being shoved and pulled with increasing violence. He did not retaliate, concentrated on keeping his balance, mentally promising to do a grievous injury to whoever had brought in this police car with all systems blaring. Disney again? Very probably. Stupid bitch. But at least the men waiting at the main gate would stop it.
But the noise got nearer and he realized it must be in the college grounds now. Fools! he groaned. , he shouted aloud. But someone else was shouting now, a girls voice, a cry taken up by others.
Its not the police! Its not the police!
The headlights swept round the last bend in the long driveway which wound through the college precincts, lighting up the struggling mob of students and dazzling the eyes of those who stared into them. But the vehicle was close enough now to be identified.
It was an ambulance.
The students parted before it and it slowed down almost to a stop. A girl ran out and spoke to the driver. It was Sandra Firth and Dalziel realized it was her voice he had heard before. The ambulance swung off the drive and ploughed across several yards of lawn towards one of the teaching blocks, with Sandra Firth running ahead, a strange unearthly figure in the luminance of the headlights. She disappeared inside, followed by the ambulance men. Dalziel began making his way after her, but his progress was impeded by the press of students, mostly completely oblivious of his presence now. By the time he forced his way to the front, the men were coming out again, carrying someone on a stretcher. The onlookers went quite silent except for an excited voice which said over and over again, Who is it? Who is it?
The ambulance lights touched the face of the figure on the stretcher, but it was not just their brightness which made the skin seem unnaturally white and drawn. The face was like a rubber mask which had slipped awry and no longer clung to the outline of the bones below. But it was still recognizable.
It was Sam Fallowfield and as he was carried swiftly by, Dalziel found himself unable to say whether he was alive or dead.
Sandra Firth came out of the building after the stretcher and Dalziel seized her arm as she went by.
Did you call the ambulance? he demanded.
Sandra Firth came out of the building after the stretcher and Dalziel seized her arm as she went by.
Did you call the ambulance? he demanded.
Yes.
Why the hell didnt you tell me? Could you bloody cure him? she asked scornfully, pulling herself free.
Whered you find him? Show me, he said. The girl hesitated, looking at the ambulance which was now ready to depart.
You can do nothing there, he said brutally. cant work miracles either.
The ambulance moved away, siren wailing once more.
Now show me.
Without a word she turned and went back into the building. Dalziel paused only to speak to Roote who was standing looking after the disappearing vehicle with a concentration of thought so intense that Dalziel had to speak to him twice.
Get these people out of here, he said curtly. them out of the offices. Get them back to bed. Therell be plenty of opportunities for this foolishness. Now isnt the time. Yes, said Roote distantly. . I will. I will.
Dalziel looked at him doubtfully but now the youth seemed to wake up and before Dalziel had followed Sandra through the door he was already shepherding students towards the dormitory blocks.
Sandra had disappeared when he finally got into the building.
Miss. Firth! Sandra! Where are you? he shouted up the stairs.
Up here.
Here was a small laboratory whose frosted glass door opened on to the long corridor which led away from the landing. An even smaller storeroom-cum-office opened off the laboratory itself and it was here that Sandra took him, pointing to the small desk shoved against the wall beneath the window and the institutional plastic and metal chair which stood beside it.
He was sprawled over the desk, the girl said. thought he was asleep. I thought
For the first time, Dalziel looked closely at the girl and realized just how shocked she was.
Sit down, for a minute, love, he said in his best kindly voice, spoiling it a little by snapping, , not there! as the girl uneasily felt for the chair in the storeroom. He led her back into the lab where the best that could be managed was a rather tall stool. Taking a beaker off a shelf, he sniffed it, rinsed it thoroughly and filled it with water.
Here, sip that.
She took it gratefully.
Now, he said, the hell were you doing up here anyway?
She drank the water as though she had a heavy thirst and handed back the beaker.
More? he asked. She shook her head.
I just got fed up, she said suddenly. was up in the general office.
The place was packed, everyone being very jolly, and permissive and just a little bit hysterical. It was like those scenes you sometimes see on the old newsreels during the war everybody in a shelter, all united and smiling through, you know what I mean. And then there were the organizing ones, hammering away at the typewriters, producing lists and schedules, like the revolution had come or something, instead of just a crummy little demo in a crummy place like this years after everyone else had had theirs. So I just helped myself to a bunch of keys and went for a walk.
I see. Why here?
Why not? Well, said Dalziel thoughtfully, s not the first place youd come to, or the most comfortable, or attractive, I shouldnt have thought.
Anyway, whats it matter? I came. It was eerie. I suppose I felt brave, being here all by myself. I came up the stairs in the dark
Was the lab door locked?
Yes. But I had a master key for all the rooms in this block. So in I went, this other door was a bit ajar, I peered in. Id got my night eyes by then and I could see quite clearly. I just took one look and ran outside. Theres a phone in the corridor. I knew the girl on the switchboard, so she gave me a line though she wasnt supposed to, not according to the planners. And I asked for an ambulance.
Dalziel digested the information for a while.
Was he dead? he asked finally.
I dont know. He was very still. And when I touched his hand he felt funny.
You didnt say you touched him.
No, that was when I went back in, to see if there was anything I could do. But I couldnt think of anything, and I was scared, so I went and stood in the corridor till I heard the ambulance coming.
Youve been very brave indeed, said Dalziel sincerely. you mind having another look inside?
No. Of course not.
She slid off the stool and followed him back into the room.
Now you say he was sprawled out over the desk? Good, good, he said.
Now, did you touch anything in here?
Well, yes. I mean I had to. I touched him, Mr. Fallowfield, just once.
And I moved the chair back when the ambulance men came. And I touched the light switch.
But you didnt remove anything? A piece of paper or anything at all?
No! she said with some indignation.
I have to ask, he said. for instance he had tried to kill himself, and left a note it would be wrong of anyone to remove it, even if it was addressed to some specific person. You follow me?
Ive overtaken you, she said, recovering her spirits now. I havent taken anything. Good-oh, said Dalziel making a minute examination of the room but touching as little as possible. He ended up on his hands and knees peering under and around the desk.
There was a clatter of feet on the stairs and Pascoe came into the laboratory, halting outside the storeroom and looking down at his superiors proffered backside with an impassive face.
Dalziel stood up, dusting his elbows and knees. In his hand he held a broken hypodermic syringe which he wrapped carefully in his handkerchief, ignoring Sandras questioning gaze.
Whats going on outside?
Theres still a lot of people standing around, chatting, but the revolutionary spirit seems to have evaporated for the time being.
He caught Sandras eye and grinned sympathetically. She looked away.
Is this where he?
Whatever happened to Mr. Fallowfield probably happened here, said Dalziel carefully. ll want this room sealed off until the lab boys can have a look at it. Id better have your keys I think, Miss. Firth.
She passed them over without demur and he locked both the storeroom door and the laboratory door behind them. On the stairs they met one of the uniformed men from the car. He looked apologetic.
I know you said wait, sir, but after the ambulance well, we thought one of us should take a walk down. It might have been for you.