Discworld 39 - Snuff

by Terry Pratchett

  Vimes looked at Wee Mad Arthur as if he was seeing him for the first time. “No, constable, you did not do what I would have done, which is fortunate, because if you had, then you would be in front of me on a charge for using brutally excessive force in the execution of your duties. However, you will get a medal and an official commendation for this, constable. Right now we’re chasing another ship that’s taking more goblins to that wretched place. And although I imagine you must be very tired, I expect you’d like to come along for the ride? Incidentally, may I congratulate you personally, constable: for someone raised as a gnome you really have got the hang of the whole Feegle business, haven’t you? You beat up a dozen armed men single-handed?”

  “Oh aye, sir,” said Wee Mad Arthur slyly, “but it was nae fair, I had them outnumbered. Och, and by the way in some of them sheds there was all kinds of like alchemy stuff. Didn’t ken what it was, but ye might find it o’ interest.”

  “Well spotted,” said Vimes. “Why don’t you go down below and get a rest?”

  “Aye, I will sir, but as soon as I can I have to run an errand regarding Sergeant Colon, who is in a verra bad way indeed.” He looked at Vimes’s blank expression and continued. “Did ye nae know? He got some goblin geegaw given tae him and it’s put some kind of fluence on him quite cruel, and he’s a-screaming and a-shouting and making oot like a goblin all day long according to Sergeant Littlebottom. She’s moved him into the sanatorium.”

  “Sergeant Colon!”

  “Aye, sir. And according to Captain Angua we have to find a goblin cave to break the fluence, ye ken? Sounds a wee bitty weird to me, but half the Watch is oot searching the place for goblins and they cannae find even one o’ the poor wee beings, being as the wee beasties is hardly going tae advertise these days, if you are getting my meaning.” Once again Wee Mad Arthur looked at Vimes.

  “Sergeant Colon!”

  “That’s what I told you, sir.”

  The blood came back to Vimes’s face as rational thought came back to his brain. “Can he travel?” Wee Mad Arthur shrugged. Ahead of them the Queen of Quirm seemed a little closer. “Then if you please, constable, can you go back to the clacks at the Quirm Watch House and tell them to put Fred on a coach to Ramkin Hall as soon as possible, okay?” Vimes added, “Best if Cheery comes with him, I should think.” And in his head he added, Fred Colon! He hates anything non-human, on the quiet. And for now he left it at that, given what lay ahead, but thought, Fred Colon! I wonder what kind of pots he would make.

  Behind him, Wee Mad Arthur whistled a strange note and a seagull trailing the cutter in the vague hope of a free meal of fish entrails found a weight on its back and a voice in its ear saying, “Hello, beastie, my name is Wee Mad Arthur.”

  Vimes liked to have his feet on something solid, such as his boots, and he liked his boots to do likewise. The sail of the Queen of Quirm now clearly visible, the cutter left the safety of the harbor and hit what is generally known as a moderate swell. And Commander Vimes, the Duke of Ankh-Morpork, Sir Samuel Vimes and, not least, Blackboard Monitor Vimes, was definitely going to eat his bacon sandwiches and not throw up in front of other watchmen.

  And he didn’t, and didn’t know how, although he did at one point think he detected, high in the rigging, the shape of a small goblin grinning down at him. He put it down to the bacon sandwiches, which were valiantly trying to come back up, just as he valiantly kept them down.

  Stratford would have got onto that damn hulk, he was sure of it. Damn sure of it. He would want paying, for one thing, and he wouldn’t want hanging. Vimes hesitated. How sure of it should Vimes be? How much was he prepared to gamble on a hunch? It was Stratford after all. He was smart and nasty, so you covered every angle, even though you knew that a smart man in a hurry could find a new angle for himself.

  And so all the people who made up Sam Vimes walked backward and forward across the poop deck, or the scuppers or the starboard or whatever the damn slippery rocking wood he was standing on was called, veering between hope, nausea, despair, self-doubt, nausea and the thrill of the chase and nausea, while the cutter seemed to hit the hard bits of every wave as it plunged onward after the Queen of Quirm and justice.

  The lieutenant came up to him and saluted, quite smartly, and said, “Commander, you have asked us to pursue the ship because it is carrying goblins, but I know of no law against taking goblins anywhere.”

  “There ought to be a law, because there certainly is a crime, do you understand?” said Vimes. He patted the lieutenant on the shoulder and continued, “Congratulations! This cutter of yours is actually traveling faster than the law. Lieutenant, the law will catch up. Goblins can speak, they have a society and I’ve heard one of them play music that would make a bronze statue burst into tears. The process of modern policing is such that I’m certain that these have been taken from their home, and the ship that we’re following is taking them somewhere where they don’t want to go. Look, if you’re queasy about it, just help me get on that ship and I’ll sort things out by myself, okay? And, besides, I believe our murderer could be on the boat as well. But, it’s up to you, lieutenant.”

  Vimes nodded toward the prow and added, “We’re so close I can see the faces of their crew. Maybe you should tell me your intentions, lieutenant?”

  Vimes felt a little sorry for the lad, but not too much. He had taken the job, he had accepted the promotion and the money that went with it, hadn’t he? Any copper worth his truncheon would at least take a look at the Queen now they’d come this far, wouldn’t they?

  “Very well, commander,” said the lieutenant. “I’m not sure of my bearings, but we will hail the Queen and ask permission to come aboard.”

  “No! You don’t ask! You tell them to stand by to be inspected by the police! And if you’re not concerned about the goblins, then it is a fact that I am in pursuit of a murderer,” Vimes added. “The capital crime—one that we can’t ignore!”

  In fact, he could see the Queen was already heaving two.* It was even hoisting a white flag, much to his surprise.

  And her captain was waiting for them as the cutter drew alongside. He had a look of resignation on his face, and said, “We won’t make any trouble, officers. I know it was a bloody stupid thing to do. We’ve got the man you’re looking for, and we’re bringing him up now. It’s not like we’re pirates, after all. Good morning, Lieutenant Perdix, sorry to put you to any trouble.”

  Vimes turned to the lieutenant. “You know the captain?”

  “Oh yes, commander, Captain Murderer is well respected on this coast,” said the lieutenant as the cutter gently kissed the Queen. “Smuggles, of course, they all do it. It’s a sort of game.”

  “But Captain … Murderer?” said Vimes.

  The lieutenant scrambled on to the Queen’s deck with ease and gave Vimes a hand up, saying, “The Murderers are a highly respected family in these parts. To tell you the truth, commander, I think they rather like the name. They’d object more to Smuggler, I suspect.”

  “We’re bringing the bloke up right now, lieutenant,” said the captain, “and he ain’t very happy.”

  Vimes looked him up and down and said, “I’m Commander Vimes, Ankh-Morpork City Watch, currently investigating at least two murders.”

  Captain Murderer’s eyes shut, and he put a hand over his mouth for a moment before saying, in a voice weeping with forlorn hope, “That wouldn’t be that Commander Vimes, would it?”

  “Captain … Murderer … produce for me the man I’m after, then I’m sure you’ll find me on a friendly footing. Do you get my meaning?”

  There was some shouting and thumping down below and several suggestions that somebody was getting kicked very hard. Eventually a man with a cloth tied round his face as a blindfold was half pushed and half dragged up onto the deck. “To tell you the truth, I’ll be glad to see the back of him,” said the captain, t
urning away.

  Vimes made sure the man was held fast by the sailors, and pulled down the mask. He looked into bloodshot eyes for a moment and then, very calmly, said, “Lieutenant, will you please impound the Queen of Quirm and arrest the captain and first mate on a charge of kidnapping and possibly abduction of a number of persons, specifically Mr. Jethro Jefferson, also goblins to the number of fifty or more. There may be other charges.

  “You can’t abduct goblins,” said Captain Murderer. “Goblins is cargo!”

  Vimes let this one pass for the moment. Captain Murderer would be orientated to the world as seen by Commander Vimes at Commander Vimes’s leisure. For now he said to the lieutenant, “I also suggest that you lock up the captain and first mate in the brig, if that is what it’s called, because when Mr. Jefferson here has got his hands free I think he’s going to try to punch somebody’s lights out. I’m sure this can all be sorted out, but someone’s going to suffer for this and it’s just a matter of deciding who it’s going to be.”

  He thought for a moment and then countermanded, “No, I think that first I’ll talk to the captain, in the captain’s quarters. Kipper, I’d like you to come and take notes. Lots of notes. Good to see you, Mr. Jefferson. Lieutenant, to the best of my knowledge Mr. Jefferson is guilty of no crime other than being in possession of a hot temper. But although he’s a man I’m very glad to find, he’s not the bastard I’m currently looking for.”

  It was, Acting Captain Haddock thought, a good thing that he had a decent amount of room in his notebook …

  “Captain Murderer, let me recap,” said Sam Vimes after a while, idly swiveling in the captain’s chair; it squeaked. “Some men unknown to you, but whom you decided to treat with respect because they had the right password, which is to say the password you used in your dealings with smugglers, with whom you have developed what I might call an understanding, delivered to you a man, bound and gagged, and told you to take said man to Howondaland to, and I quote ‘cool his heels for a little while’; and you have also told me that these men said to you that this was okay by the law.”

  The swivel chair under Vimes squeaked once or twice as he twisted for dramatic effect, and he went on, “Captain Murderer, I represent the law in Ankh-Morpork, and you may be aware that a number of influential politicians throughout the world trust my judgment, and, Captain Murderer, I know of no law that makes kidnapping legal, but I’ll ask my colleague and an expert on Quirmian law whether he knows of any local edict that makes it legal to tie up somebody who has committed no crime and drag him onto a boat and send him to a questionable distant location against his will.”

  The swivel chair only had one chance to squeak again before Lieutenant Perdix said, ponderously, “Commander Vimes, I know of no such change in the law, and therefore, Captain Murderer, I arrest you,” and here the lieutenant placed a hand on the stricken captain’s shoulder, “on a charge of kidnapping, aiding and abetting kidnapping, actual and possibly grievous bodily harm, and other charges that may arise in the course of our continued investigations. In the meantime, upon its return to port, the Queen of Quirm is impounded and will, you may be sure, be inspected down to its gunwales.”

  Vimes swiveled the chair again until his face was not visible to the downcast captain but could be clearly seen by the lieutenant, then winked at him and got a little nod in response. He rotated the chair again and said, “Depriving an innocent man of his liberty even for a week, captain, is a very serious crime. However, the lieutenant has told me that you are well thought of on this coast and in general are considered to be a model citizen. Personally, I don’t like a world in which small men who act out of fear, or even out of a misguided deference, get thrown into prison while big men, the instigators if not the perpetrators of crime, get off totally free. I expect you don’t like that world either, eh?”

  Captain Murderer stared down at his sea boots as if he was expecting them to explode or perhaps break into song. He managed to mutter, “You’re right there, commander!”

  “Thank you, captain! You’re a man of the world. Right now you need a friend, and I need names. I need the names of the people who got you into this mess. Now, Mr. Jefferson the blacksmith has told me that in all conscience he cannot say that he was particularly badly treated once he was in your illegal hospitality. Apparently he was reasonably well fed, given beer and a daily tot of rum and even provided with a number of back issues of the magazine Girls, Giggles and Garters to while away his time. He also wants names, Captain Murderer, and it may just be that if we had those names, all put down legally in an affidavit, he might just be persuaded to forget his imprisonment in exchange for a certain sum of money, to be negotiated, and a chance to go hand to hand, fair and square, no holds barred, with your first mate, who he describes as a ‘bag of shite,’ a nautical term which I don’t pretend to understand. Apparently said man took pleasure in thumping him when he objected to his imprisonment, and Mr. Jefferson would like, as it were, to settle the score.”

  Vimes stood up and stretched his arms as if taking the cramp out of them. “Of course, captain, this is all very irregular, especially since we have here our lieutenant, a decent, clean and upstanding young officer, but I suspect that if he brought the Queen into dock and you in front of the authorities on a smuggling charge he might consider honor to be satisfied. It would be a bit of a knock for you, but not one half as bad as being an accessory to kidnapping. Don’t you agree?” Vimes went on, cheerfully, “The lieutenant here will have got a feather in his chapeau and may put in a bon mot on your behalf, I suspect, what with you being an otherwise upstanding and, above all, helpful citizen.”

  Vimes winked at Lieutenant Perdix. “I’m teaching this young man bad habits, captain, and so I suggest that you treat him as a friend, especially if at any time in the future he asks you any innocent questions to do with shipping movements and merchandise and other such concerns. It’s up to you, Captain Murderer. I think you know names, the names at least of the men you deal with, and also the name of their employer? You want to tell me anything?”

  The boots shuffled. “Look, commander, I don’t want to become enemies with powerful men, if you know what I mean?”

  Vimes nodded, and leaned forward so that he could look the man in the eyes. “Of course, I quite understand that captain,” he said quietly, “and that is why you should give me the names. The names, captain. The names. Because, Captain Murderer, I understand you do not wish to upset influential men, and right now I have half a mind to have your ship impounded and destroyed because you were trafficking in living, breathing, intelligent, creative if somewhat grubby sapient creatures. Strictly speaking, I would get into trouble for authorizing this, but who knows? The world can change quite quickly, and it’s changing quickly for you.” He slapped the captain on the back. “Captain Murderer, here and now I’d like you to think of me as a friend.”

  And Vimes listened and the red balls bounced across the baize, cannoning off the colored balls, and the law was being broken wholesale for the purpose of upholding the law. How could you explain that to a layman? How could you explain it to a lawyer? How could he explain it to himself? But it was all happening fast and you got on top of it or perished. So you did your best and faced such music as anyone cared to play.

  The Queen of Quirm docked that day, two and a half months earlier than expected, to the dismay, distress or possibly even delight of the wives of the crew. The harbormaster made a note of this, and also was intrigued by the fact that most of the crew after disembarkation immediately wandered along past the other ships in port to a quiet area of beach close to the repair yard where the somewhat battered Wonderful Fanny was already being pulled up the slipway.

  Walking alongside his boat, like a mother hen with one enormous chick, was Captain Sillitoe, nursing a plaster cast on his arm; he brightened up when he saw Vimes. “Well, sir, I have to hand it to you, by my halibut, so I must! You played a
man’s job in getting us safely home, sir! I won’t forget it, and nor will my wife and daughter!”

  Vimes looked up at the boat and hoped for the best. “She looks extremely battered to me, captain—I mean the boat, not your wife, of course.”

  But it appeared that the captain was determined on optimism. “We lost much of the gearing for the paddle wheels, but truth to tell she was long overdue for refit in any case. But, my dear commander, we rode a damn slam, with all souls safe! And, moreover—What the seven hells are they doing?”

  Vimes had already heard the shrill notes of a flute, but he had to look down to see, marching resolutely across the beach, a large number of goblins. At their head, and for a moment appearing bright blue, was Stinky, playing an old and empty crab leg. As he passed Vimes he stopped playing long enough to say, “No seaside rock for goblins! Hooray! Home again, home again, as fast as they can! And them above as watches, they applaud! And them what tries to stop, oh yes, Constable Stinky and his little chums, he find Stinky will be worst nightmare.”

  Vimes laughed. “What? What do you mean? A goblin with a badge?” He had to walk fast as he said that, because Stinky was understandably dead set on getting the goblins out of there as soon as possible.

  “Stinky don’t need no badges, fellow po-leess-maan! Stinky worst nightmare all by himself! Remember a little boy? Little boy open book? And he see evil goblin, and I see nasty little boy! Good for us, little boy, that we were both right!”

  Vimes watched them march away, speeding up until they reached the undergrowth at the edge of the dockyard, where they disappeared, and for a moment it occurred to Vimes that even if he rushed forward and fished around for any trace of goblin he would not find one. He was bewildered. This didn’t matter very much; bewilderment was often a copper’s lot. His job was to make sense of the world, and there were times when he wished that the world would meet him halfway.