'And that's your very best thought, is it?' sneered Dalziel. 'You listen to me, sunshine. Time for you to have great thoughts was back there at the gate when you were out of the car and Tankie were in it. But you missed your chance, and you're in the army now, and you're not paid to think!'

'Now hold on,' said Pascoe. 'Of course I thought of making a run for it back there. But I believed him when he said he would blow you away. What I did manage to do though was drop my wallet with my warrant card in it by the gate. If someone finds it and hands it in. ..'

He hadn't expected fulsome praise for his ingenuity but he was taken aback by Dalziel's expression, as if he'd chewed on a chocolate drop and found it was a sheep dottle.

'All right,' he said defensively. 'At least I tried something which still seems better to me than just going along with Trotter.'

'You reckon?' said Dalziel. 'What do you want me to say? That you're not so green as you're cabbage looking? Consider it said. But you'd be well advised to stop being clever and think of nowt but survival. Your own personal survival.'

'It's kind of you to be so concerned about me, sir,' said Pascoe only half satirically. 'But I get the impression it's you Tankie's really after.'

'Right. And that's why I'll play along with the little game he's got planned. What I don't want is you trying any Boy's Own stuff. Don't lose sleep being grateful. Way I see it is, Tankie's not killed anyone yet. Last thing I want is him finding out how easy it is. Now sit down out of the way and let me get this lot sorted.'

Pascoe squatted on the floor near the door, his back against the wall, and uneasily contemplated his new role as the buffer zone between Dalziel and death.

Suddenly the Fat Man who'd been arranging the items on the bed with a housewifely deftness, snapped to attention, chin high, arms rigid, thumbs pointing straight down the side seams of his trousers. He even managed to hoist part of the bulge of his belly to swell the overhang of his chest.