Читать книгу The Death of Dalziel: A Dalziel and Pascoe Novel - Reginald Hill - Страница 24

Hugh de Payens was galloping his grey stallion across a wide green meadow under an ancient castle’s beetling walls. On either side ranks of armed men held their eager mounts under strict control, their restless hooves rising and falling on the same spot, their heaving breasts creating a dark ripple of muscle that ran as far as the eye could see. Cuirasses glinted in the bright summer sun, pennants bearing lions, bears, griffins and dragons, rampant, courant, couchant, fluttered above them, and high over all floated the broad banners which on a lily-white ground bore the symbol of their purpose and their faith, the red cross.

Then a little bell rang and in a trice the castle became an insubstantial ruin, the mounted men and their flags vanished, leaving the rider hacking gently along the edge of a field on a placid grey mare with nothing for company but a few uncurious cows.

He reined in, took out a mobile, accessed Messages and found a single capital X.

He erased it and urged his mount forward into a spinney of beech trees slimming into willow as he approached a narrow but deep and fast-moving stream. On its bank he came to a halt and slackened the rein so that the horse could crop the long grass.

He speed-dialled a number.

‘Bernard.’

‘Hugh.’

‘De Clairvaux.’

‘De Payens.’

Silence. He counted mentally.

one thousand two thousand three thousand

Dead on three seconds the other voice spoke.

Anything less, anything more, and he would have switched off, removed the SIM card, cut it in half with the pair of electrical wire strippers attached to his belt, and hurled the pieces and the phone into the stream.

‘Hugh, the loose end, there’s been a suggestion it might not be so harmless as we thought. I wonder if it wouldn’t be as well to tie it up. Discreetly, of course.’

A moment’s silence then Hugh said, ‘I’m not sure I like the sound of that. It’s not what we’re about.’

‘Of course it isn’t. But in the field sometimes the choice is between collateral damage and protecting our own. Or, let’s not be mealy-mouthed, protecting ourselves.’

‘Our structure protects us.’

‘There are always links. You know me. Andre knows you. The Geoffreys know Andre.’

‘I hope you trust my discretion. I trust Andre. And he says the Geoffreys are reliable.’

‘Are they? From what you reported of Bisol’s reaction to Mill Street, I would have doubts.’

‘He’s concerned about the injured policeman. Removing another as damage limitation isn’t going to make him feel any better.’

‘Properly done, no reason why he should ever know, is there? Look, I don’t like this any more than you do, but I know how easily things can unravel. I’ve already had to put one nosey policeman on a tight rein. The loose end in question seems to be accident prone, so it shouldn’t be too difficult to remove him without arousing either suspicion or further agitating Bisol’s tender conscience. From what you say of him, I imagine Andre would take it in his stride. I leave it with you.’

The phone went dead.

Hugh switched off. His patient horse, alert to signals, raised its head, then resumed cropping the grass as its rider made no movement but sat in thought for a while.

Finally he activated his phone once more, texted an X, and disconnected.

A few moments later the phone rang.

‘Hugh.’

‘Andre.’

‘De Payens.’

‘De Montbard.’

one thousand two thousand three thousand

‘Andre, how are you? I’ve just been talking to Bernard. There’s a little job which sounds very much your cup of tea…’