Recalled to Life Read Online Free Page A

nose, out through the mouth, long, slow inhalations and exhalations. His heart too was slowing, his salivary glands resumed a limited service, and his hands began to feel less like a bunch of radishes bound loosely to his wrists.
When strength returned to his legs, he stood up and walked unsteadily around the car. He forced himself to think about his lecture to the cadets, what he should have told them about criminal investigation, what he shouldn't have wasted time telling them. The sun was pleasantly warm on his skin, the air tasted good. At last he felt able to get back in and drive away. But he didn't let his gaze drift up to the skyline again.
A mile away, a van was backing into Pascoe's spot in the HQ car park. The driver got out and went into the building.
Sergeant George Broomfield on the desk said, 'Can I help you?'
'Why not? Sergeant Proctor, South Thames. I'm with Mr Hiller's mob. Got some gear outside in the van. Any chance of a lift?'
His cockney chirpiness grated on Broomfield's ear, which would have surprised Proctor who came from Ruislip.
'Doubt it,' he said. 'Not for a while, any road. I don't think I've got a body free.'
Suddenly Dalziel was there. How a man of his girt  could be sudden, Broomfield never knew, but when he wanted he could lurk like a Brazilian striker.
'George, what are you saying? Cooperation's the key word here. Isn't that young Hector I see through there playing with himself? Send him out to help. Fragile stuff, is it. Sergeant?'
Proctor, recognizing the weight of authority, said, 'Yes, sir. Couple of computers, software, hardware, that sort of thing.'
Broomfield was looking alarmed. Not even a cockney deserved PC Hector, who didn't break cups when he washed up, he broke sinks.
'Computers, eh?' said Dalziel. 'Then Hector's your man. Strong as an ox. Hector! Come on out here!'
He stood by the desk till Proctor and the bewildered-looking constable had gone into the car park. Then he said very seriously to Broomfield, 'These people are our guests, George. We've got to take care of them,' and set off up the stairs.
He'd reached the first landing when he heard the first crash, and its accompanying cry of anguish followed him all the way up to the second.
He smiled and went on his way to Sergeant Wield's room.
'Don't get up,' he said to the Sergeant who hadn't moved. 'The lad not back yet?'
'No, sir.'
'Bloody nuisance. I wish he'd not volunteer all the time for these skives.'
Wield, who knew very well that it was Dalziel who had volunteered Pascoe for the cadet lecture ('right up your street, being a Master of Ceremonies or whatever it is you are'), said nothing.
'Tell him to drop in when he gets back, will you?' Dalziel hesitated at the door, then went on, 'Matter of no importance, but how's he been looking to you lately?'
'Bit rough,' said Wield. 'He's not really been himself since that lass jumped off the cathedral tower. It seemed to knock all the stuffing out of him, somehow.'
'Certainly knocked the stuffing out of her,' said Dalziel.
He stared hard at Wield's inscrutably craggy features as though challenging him to reprove his callousness, but the Sergeant just held his gaze unflinchingly.
'Right,' said Dalziel. 'Well, keep an eye on him, eh? I know I can rely on your feminine intuition.'
He went on to his own office, opened a drawer, and took out the glass of Scotch he'd been drinking when he'd noticed the South Thames van pulling into the car park below his window. He was just finishing it when the door burst open and Hiller came in.
'Well, come on in, Geoff,' said Dalziel pleasantly. 'Have a seat. Getting settled in, are you?'
Hiller remained standing.
'I think it's time to lay a few ground rules,' he said. 'First, in front of other officers, I think we should observe protocol. That means "sir" not "Geoff", OK?'
'Fair enough. No Geoffing around,' said Dalziel.
'Secondly, Inspector Stubbs tells me he found you in the room allocated to us by your man Pascoe.'
'Just checking you had