An Advancement of Learning (23 page)

' - of causing damage to property by defacing a wall and - ' he sniffed the air ' - I think we might add illegal possession of the drug, cannabis. Sergeant. I want the names of everyone here, I want them cautioned individually, I want their statements and I want their fingerprints." "He can't do it,' said Cockshut, mockingly. ' fat bastard's bluffing."

He lifted the cup to his lips. Dalziel moved swiftly across and took it from his hand, careful not to spill the contents.

"I want this analyzed as well, Sergeant. If, as my sensitive nose tells me, it is Glen Grant that's being debased in this coffee, I think we'll add a charge of theft against Mr. Cockshut. Right, now, who's got the keys?"

Again a stunned silence.

"Keys?' said someone tremulously.

"The set of duplicate, or master keys,' said Dalziel patiently. The ones you used to get into this room, to unlock my desk and my filing cabinet.

Those keys. Oh come on, Mr. Roote, you're an intelligent man, I hear.

There'll be fingerprints over every bit of paper you touched in there.

And over my whisky bottle too I've no doubt."

"You're mistaken, I assure you,' said Franny, spreading out his hands before him, the picture of injured innocence. ' I do think if you're going to make this absurd fuss, lovey, we ought to have some legal representation. We're entitled, aren't we?"

He picked up the telephone before anyone could stop him. Obviously someone was sitting at the ready at the other end of the line.

"Hello, love,' he said softly. ' here. We're having a bit of trouble with the police down in Simeon's old study. Yes, the police.

Just tell the others in case they're worried, there's a dear. And get Mr. Pearl, the solicitor, on the line. Ask him to come over. Many thanks."

He replaced the receiver. Dalziel had made no attempt to interrupt, but his face was hard.

"Dr. Landor, these students' names please."

Landor's face was a mask of misery as he hesitated whether to speak or not, but he was saved from the decision and its attendant obloquy by Miss. Disney who pushed forward, majestic in her voluminous, quilted dressing-gown, and said, ' is outrageous!" For a second, Dalziel thought she was referring to him. But instantly she followed it up by beginning a recital of the names of those present.

Pascoe busily made notes.

Dalziel knew he had to move quickly now. The last thing he wanted was for his investigations to be complicated by a full scale student-police confrontation. While it had seemed possible to isolate this small group, he had been happy to see they got what he firmly believed they deserved.

But the moment Roote had been allowed to lift the telephone, he knew that it would require swift thinking to avoid either a retreat or a battle. Personally, he didn't give a damn how unpopular he was; in fact at times he gave the impression of revelling in it. But the job he was here to do was nothing to do with student politics and he had no desire to get involved at that particular moment.

Disney was coming to the end of her recital of names now, oblivious to the abuse which was being directed at her from one or two quarters.

Privately, Dalziel appreciated the aptness of many of the epithets, but he was too busy talking to the uniformed men to pay full attention.

"Move away quietly. Wait outside the main gates for half an hour, but don't come back in unless you get a

message direct from me. All right? And keep out of sight, eh?" Roote watched them disappear with an amused smile on his face.

"Finished, Sergeant? Right, Mr. Roote, if you and your friends will kindly leave, we'll sort out this matter in the morning."

"You've changed your tune, blubber-gut,' jeered Cockshut.

"Yes, I have,' said Dalziel quietly. ' I can start playing another, laddie, that'll make you dance if I have much more of your lip."

Cockshut looked as if he was going to indulge in another outburst, but Roote silenced him by making for the door.

"Come along, my dears,' he said. ''s go and see the � others."

He too knew when to make a diplomatic withdrawal. Dalziel followed them out into the warm night and took a couple of deep breaths. They had been just in time. A large and noisy group of students, some hundred he reckoned, was making its way down the drive from the new admin, block.

Franny and the others were greeted with rapturous cheers.

"Shall we get inside?' suggested Pascoe at his shoulder.

"No. There's just a lot of wind in that lot. Get back in. Here's my keys. Check there's nothing missing. I doubt if there will be, they're not quite daft. In fact Roote looked a sight too complacent. I doubt if we'll find a print. Not his anyway, but the others are probably less careful. And check my whisky, eh?"

"Why did they want to do it anyway?' asked Pascoe.

"That'll bear thinking about. Give me a ring if anything turns up. I'm off to my bed. You'd better make yourself a bed up in the study and spend the night there. I doubt if they'll be back, but you never know."

"Right, sir,' said Pascoe, moving back into the building.

"And, Sergeant, by yourself, mind. You're on duty, and on duty you sleep by yourself."

On or off duty you sleep by yourself, thought Pascoe viciously as he went through the door wondering how many of those in the hall had heard.

Dalziel chuckled to himself as he walked towards the block in which his room was situated. The students saw him and a cry of mockery and abuse went up.

"Sieg Heil! shouted some wit. ' bastard!"

Roote detached himself from the crowd.

"Is there something else, Superintendent?"

"No, thank you, Mr. Roote. I'm just away to my bed."

"You're not so brave without your bully-boys, are you, Dalziel?' said Cockshut. ''t there enough of them? Have they gone for help?"

"It's provocation that's what it is!' shrieked a hysterical little girl.

"Bloody deliberate provocation."

She was an ugly little thing, hardly coming up to Dalziel's 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, I'd better become a pop-singer! Now I'm off to my bed.

Good night!"

There was a ripple of laughter, then someone started singing, ' night, Dalziel, Good night, Dalziel. Good night, Dalziel, it's 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. Dalziel's 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 girl's voice, a cry taken up by others.

"It's not the police! It's 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.

"Yes."

"Why the hell didn't you tell me?" "Could you bloody cure him?' she asked scornfully, pulling herself free.

"Where'd 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. ' can't 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. There'll be plenty of opportunities for this foolishness. Now isn't 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 you'd come to, or the most comfortable, or attractive, I shouldn't have thought."

"Anyway, what's 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. I'd got my night eyes by then and I could see quite clearly. I just took one look and ran outside. There's a phone in the corridor. I knew the girl on the switchboard, so she gave me a line though she wasn't 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 don't know. He was very still. And when I touched his hand he felt - funny."

"You didn't say you touched him."

"No, that was when I went back in, to see if there was anything I could do. But I couldn't think of anything, and I was scared, so I went and stood in the corridor till I heard the ambulance coming."

"You've 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.