A police van was coming fast up the slip road.
The heisters seemed uncertain what to do, all except the big man, who had seized the crate from the back of the pantechnicon and was now dragging it, screaming at the others for help, into the loading bay, heading towards the service lift.
The others began to follow him. Police officers and security men began to run forward. One-handed, the big man sent a shot towards them. It didn't find a target, but it was enough to discourage heroics and send the pursuers diving for cover.
The four fugitives and the crate disappeared into the lift and the doors closed.
Up above, aware of the sound of police sirens but happily ignorant of the drama going on beneath her feet, Ellie Pascoe grimaced as Suzie's mum, the founder of the feast, acknowledged that the partygoers had eaten as much as they could contain. Next on the agenda was the Punch and Judy show, a sore test of political correctness but a good way of channelling the little buggers' newly refreshed energies and aggressions.
Leaving the other mums to get the kids into a rough kind of line, Ellie went outside to summon Rosie and her friend. Little Mary came instantly, but Rosie yelled, 'Just one more go,' and vanished into the Dragon. The sound of sirens was nearer, coming from all sides. Along the walkway beyond the play area, Ellie saw four men running, two of them in some kind of uniform. One of the uniformed men and a short square man in overalls were carrying a crate between them. The other uniformed man was jogging alongside another man in overalls who was huge and carried something in his right hand.
It looked like a gun.
'Oh Jesus,' said Ellie. Then she screamed, 'Rosie!'
Her daughter had appeared on top of the dragon. She waved at her mother and launched herself down the switchback neck. The beast roared, the crimson smoke belched, Rosie vanished into it and, when she reappeared through the fumes, she was caught up under the big man's left arm.
'Mum!' yelled the little girl.
Ellie began to run forward. Their paths must intersect. The gun began to wave in her direction but she knew it didn't matter. It would take more than a gun to stop her now.
But before her suicidal bravado could be put to the test, there was the sound of a siren behind her and a police car came round the side of the Jumbo Burger Bar.
The fleeing men changed direction, now heading away from the play area towards the crowded commercial shopping area of Estotiland.
Ellie went in pursuit, but as they disappeared through a sliding glass door, she felt herself seized from behind.
She turned on her captor, swinging her fists, but stopped struggling when she saw the unmistakable features of Edgar Wield.
'They've got Rosie’ she sobbed.
'It'll be OK, Ellie,' he said urgently. 'There's nowhere for them to go.'
She wanted to believe him, she wanted to run after her daughter, she wanted… above all – fuck feminism – she wanted her husband.
'Wieldy,' she said. 'Get Peter, for me. Please. Get Peter!'
‘It's funny,' said Roote. 'You know where the quotation comes from?'
'Death's Jest-Book,' said Pascoe. 'What's so funny about that?'
'Just the context. A message of love from Sam. But if you look at the context of the quote, we're back with that tragic irony you were talking about, Mr Pascoe. Here it is.'
He took down the other volume of Beddoes' works and opened it at a page which was marked by what looked like a sheet of writing paper.
He said, 'Athulf, the Duke's son, is talking to his brother, Adalmar. He says "I have drunk myself immortal." His brother replies, "You are poisoned?" And Athulf says,
I am blessed, Adalmar. I've done't myself,
'Tis nearly passed, for I begin to hear
Strange but sweet sounds, and the loud rocky dashing
Of waves, where time into Eternity
Falls over ruined worlds.
Beautiful, isn't it?'
'I'm not here to discuss aesthetics,' said Pascoe wearily. 'If you've got a point, make it, then I'll arrest you.'
'Yes, I'm sorry. My point is… I think you'd better read this, Mr Pascoe.'
He removed the bookmark and handed it over. Pascoe now saw that it was indeed a sheet of writing paper which was enclosed in a piece of transparent plastic through which he could see writing.
He looked up at Roote, who nodded encouragingly. And sympathetically.
Don't read this, Pascoe told himself. It's another spell this evil sorcerer is laying on you. Take him in, hand htm over to Fat Andy, the Witchfinder General!
But even as he told himself not to read, his eyes were taking in the scrawled words.
Darling Sam its all too much its not just the work though thats more than I can get through without the help you promised me its what you said to me I thought you loved me more than that Im looking at the watch you gave me as I write well my worlds really broken now why did you do this to me youve been carrying me for two years now you always said that as long as you were around I didnt need to worry about grades or anything whats changed Sam except that you stopped loving me or maybe all I ever was to you was an easy way of getting your gear theres no other explanation and I cant bear it I wont bear it Jake
'What's this supposed to be?' said Pascoe, trying for mocking scepticism and failing. In any case Roote looked beyond reach of such weak weapons as he began talking in a rapid low drone, as if returning somewhere he didn't want to be and wanting out fast.
'I was round at Sam's that night, it was supposed to be a review session on my thesis but he wasn't in any state to review anything except his own psyche. He drank and rambled about Jake and what he meant to him. There are plenty of nasty people around in the academic world, Mr Pascoe, and when it became known that Jake's assessment work was way behind schedule, it was made clear to Sam that this new deadline was absolute and unextendable, and if there were the slightest hint that Sam had been offering any special assistance, either by way of writing the assignments or grading them, it wouldn't just be Jake's head on the block. So he'd given him a real talking to and tried to shock him into a realization that he had to find his own salvation. Now he was beginning to feel he'd gone too far. You should never talk to someone you loved like that. He wanted to go round and see Frobisher and apologize. What did a stupid degree matter anyway? They could set up house together, Jake could act as his research assistant, happiness ever after was still a possibility, lots of maudlin crap like that.'
'I can see how it would have touched your heart’ said Pascoe sarcastically.
'I'm not pretending I was sorry to see the relationship heading for the rocks,' said Roote. 'I stopped him going out, he kept on drinking and in the end I put him to bed about midnight. Then the phone started ringing. I answered it. It was Frobisher. He just assumed I was Sam and started off with all these incoherent ramblings. I remember thinking, Christ, I just get shot of one self-absorbed monologue, and now I'm right into another. Then what Jake was actually saying began to get through. He'd taken something, lots of things from the sound of it. My first reaction was, good riddance! I'm not proud of it, but there you go. Finally he stopped speaking, and then I got to thinking what this really meant. And I knew I had to go round there.'
To make sure he'd done the job properly?' said Pascoe.
Roote smiled wanly but ignored the crack. ‘I got round there, found his door unlocked and him lying on the floor. He was dead.'
'Well, that was handy.'
'It was disastrous’ said Roote coldly. 'I found this note. I knew that Jake's suicide would devastate Sam. Plus the knives were out for him in the university, and the reference to Frobisher supplying him with dope would finish him professionally. So I had to do whatever I could to tidy things up. I sat Jake at his table and dug out all his unfinished work and set it round him, making it look like he'd been really trying to get it into shape. Then I put the jug and glass by his hand. I put some pill bottles there too, empty of everything except a few uppers. I checked I'd done everything I could to make it look accidental, and left. I took the note for obvious reasons, and the watch because I didn't want some smart cop making connections with Sam, and the drug stash to stop awkward questions being asked around the house. The rest you know.'