NOTE: Thanks once again to all the reviews… Vetinari's Eyes; don't worry, his Lordship shall be along in the next chapter, I promise! And eris86, I've got the motive all sorted out… it's just bloody hard getting it into the story without giving everything away! I'll try to get as much as possible of it into the Hogswatch Ball…

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"What do you make of him, Captain?" Vimes asked, once he and Carrot were clear of Cable Street.

"Colonel Marten?" Carrot said.

"No, Mister Francis Throckmorton," Vimes replied. "How far do you trust him?"... which was a silly question to ask, really, as Carrot, in a worryingly naive way, trusted everyone completely. In an equally worrying way, everyone around Carrot worked hard to be worthy of that trust.

"He's a man that... has few morals, sir," Carrot said, which, coming from him, was a damning indictment. "He seemed to be the kind of person who thinks the ends will always justify the means."

Vimes nodded thoughtfully. Carrot was the kind of person to notice that; Vimes saw a devious bastard and thought "he should be good at the job"; Carrot saw the same devious bastard and thought "why does he act like that?".

"Alright, Captain... take the file back to the Yard. Then, start interviewing the workers who handled the crate, find out it's exact size, weight and how much it rattled. After that, come and find me at home with that file. Bring Angua; we need to go over the Hogswatch Ball."

"Yes sir," Carrot saluted, wondering what had caused his Commander to mention the Ball without the usual venom. "Where will you be if I need to contact you, sir?"

"At home, Captain. It's almost twenty to six already."

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The clock struck seven. Little Sam was asleep with The Book under one arm. Vimes stood and stretched, as quietly as possible. The kid really was getting too old for the book; last week, he had read it by himself, to the amazement of Vimes, until he found out that Sam had just memorised the words and where to turn the pages, duping Vimes for a good half hour. The kid would make a good copper some day.

As quietly as possible, Vimes left the room; Carrot and Angua would have arrived by now, so Vimes conducted a quick check first; no blue duck covered shawl, no shaving cream still on face, and all clothes in place; Carrot had a habit of arriving at bad times, leaving him open to seeing Vimes at all stages of his daily routine.

He quietly left the room, and walked down the stairs. Wilikins was standing at the foot of the staircase with a mug of coffee in one hand, still hot. Vimes accepted it gratefully.

"Captain Ironfoundersson and Sergeant von Uberwald are waiting for you in the library, sir," the butler informed him. Vimes nodded in a tired way, sipping the coffee.

Vimes walked into the library, and found Carrot and Angua (her armour suspiciously clean) sitting in two of the armchairs. They were good armchairs, in so much as they were comfortable and sturdy, but the comfort came at the cost of very soft cushions; it was clear from the way both Carrot and Angua were sitting, rigid and straight backed, that they were having difficultly avoiding being swallowed by their chairs.

They both started to rise as Vimes entered, but he waved them back down, resulting in what could have been a slight yelp as Angua found herself fighting against the pull of the chair. By the time Vimes had sat down in his own chair (with a specially purchased cushion which didn't attempt to eat the sitter), the sergeant had regained control and composure.

"What have you learnt about the shipment?" Vimes broke the silence.

"Not much sir... although the men who unloaded it from the barge said it was the same kind of weight as a loosely packed box of horseshoes. There was no rattling or rustling sir; sounds like whatever it was was packed pretty tight."

Vimes sighed.

"So we have a heavy crate which has gone missing. Well, if we can't find out from the people who unloaded it, we'll have to go to the people who packed it." He sipped his coffee. "I want the top 13 officers of the 2nd Guards' at the Watch Hogswatch Ball, including Marten."

"Are you sure that's... wise, sir?" Angua asked, cautiously. "If we suspect them of involvement in the crime, do we really want them to see the state Coppers get in after a few pints?"

"Suspect them of involvement, Sergeant?" Vimes replied. "Who ever suggested such a thing?"

Angua met his innocent gaze with a look that said "You don't have to". Vimes dropped the act; truth be told, if Angua hadn't already realised he was suspicious of the soldiers, she wouldn't have made a good sergeant.

"Alright; look through that file, and get invitations out to the company Captains of the Regiment, the majors and Marten himself. You're to deliver his invite personally, Sergeant. In the meantime..." Vimes turned to Carrot, "I want you on another case. If the thieves are watching us, I want them to think we're writing it off as unimportant."

"Yes, sir," Carrot replied. "But, sir... why do we think this is so important? I mean more so than any other crime?"

Vimes stared at Carrot hard.

"Captain, between nine hundred and a thousand armed men have just marched into this City, and a shipment that no one, anywhere out side the Palace, is allowed to even think of opening, goes missing almost as they arrive, and this package is from these soldiers! You do know what happened the last time soldiers were garrisoned in the City?"

"Yes, sir," Carrot replied, "they quickly left to sail for Klatch-"

"I meant before that," Vimes snapped, "I meant the 25th of May. I am not going to have even the slightest risk of that happening again!"

Vimes stood up. "Right. Angua, get those invitations written, ask Cable Street for the names and addresses of the officers if you need to, then-"

"Rufus Drumknott delivered a file from the Palace to the Yard earlier today, sir," Angua cut in. "It was when Sally was on desk duty. The file has information of all of the Officers in the Regiment, and a short list of the most important." She paused. "Company Captains up."

Vimes sat down again, frowning. Damn him! Vetinari knew something, but rather than do the decent thing, and tell him, he was dropping clues. Damn that man! He'd heard that particularly subtle political puppet-masters were now referred to as "Vetinarian" Discwide (which had led to a series of rather unamusing animal jokes), and Vimes couldn't help feeling that he was practise for Vetinari; practise being a devious bastard on Commander Vimes, then try it on the rest of the world.

Vimes sighed. Never look a gift horse in the mouth, he thought; it might bite your nose off.

"Okay. Invite all of the people on their short list. Then, tomorrow..." Vimes pulled a cigar from a pocket, reached towards the fire, pulled a red hot coal from it with the tongs, and applied the coal to the cigar. He took a deep drag on it. "Well, tomorrow is a Great Big Fish."

"Don't mention fish," Angua muttered.

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Angua and Sally were finishing their day as they had begun; walking through the snow. The sun had sunk hours ago, but the night was still young, and the pair passed as many carts and street merchants as when they had come into work this morning.

"Okay, there's just one more to deliver," Angua said, staring at the envelope in her hand. In the best copperplate hand writing Sally could come up with (she was a vampire, copperplate writing was a skill second only to gothic writing) were the words "To Colonel Sir Jonathon Marten VE, OME, C/O 2nd Morporkian Guards, 12 Park Drive".

Sally looked over Angua's shoulder.

"You don't think we went a little overboard on the letters, do you?" she asked. Angua shrugged;

"It's not as if they're not all accurate. Vetinari Eye for gallantry, Order of the Morporkian Empire for services to the city, Commanding Officer of the Guards... have you seen how many letters Mister Vimes has after his name?"

Sally shook her head. Angua, who knew Vimes' attitude towards his titles and had a keen instinct for self preservation, leant close to Sally and whispered something in her ear. The whispering when on for quite some time.

"Really that many?" Sally said at last. Angua nodded.

"That many. I saw an invitation he got to some function at the Uberwaldian embassy. They had to use two sheets of paper."

The pair of undead officers turned into Park Drive. Park Drive was a very exclusive area, just off Park Lane; it was a cul-de-sac that had 13 houses on it, all terraced, but the houses themselves were huge, rumoured to have room for 8 bedrooms and servants quarters for up to 20. Suffice to say, the general decorum of the buildings made Sally wish she had polished her armour a bit more thoroughly that morning, and Angua wish her hair didn't smell of "Mr and Mrs Waggy's".

They stepped up the steps to number twelve, and tugged the bell-pull. Almost immediately a man who could have been the twin brother of Wilikins answered the door.

"May I be of assistance to you, ladies?" he asked, in the perfectly polished butler's voice.

"We have a letter for Sir Jonathon," Angua replied, holding out the envelope. The butler, surprisingly, didn't take it.

"Of course," he said smoothly, "if you ladies would care to step inside, I shall endeavour to discover if Sir Jonathon is available."

Sally and Angua found themselves being ushered into what they guessed would be termed the Drawing Room. Angua began looking for anything that could tell her more about the man they were about to meet.

The room was warmly lit, and the furniture looked comfortable and stylish rather than antique. Above the fireplace was a painting of a blonde man with a rather severe expression, dressed in a smart suit, sitting front of a window, the view from which Angua recognised as the view from the Oblong Office. So... that must be Sir Jonathon's Great Grandfather, the Patrician. The last Patrician before Vetinari not linked to one Guild or other.

As Angua looked for any hints as to the nature of the room's owner, she realised that while the room was carefully designed to look exactly how such a room should, in any house owned by an old family, there was nothing, other than the portrait, that linked to the family; the silverware on the sideboard had no family crest, and furniture had no telltale maker's mark, not even the crossed swords above the door could be identified as from any particular period. It was almost as if the decor had been designed with neutrality in mind...

The door behind the two women opened. Sir Jonathon Marten walked in. He was dressed as any modern city gentleman would be; white shirt, dark waistcoat and cravat, well polished shoes, dark and smart trousers. He smiled at the two Watchwomen.

"When I last had the privilege to speak with a Watchman, he introduced himself to me as a Corporal Nobbs," he said, "I am happy to see the appearance of Watch Officers has improved so remarkably since then." He extended a hand to Angua. "I am Jonathon Marten, I have the honour to command the 2nd Morporkian Guards."

Angua replied,

"Sir Jonathon, I'm Sergeant Angua von Uberwald of the Ankh-Morpork City Watch," she took the proffered hand, "and this is-"

By a quick movement of his hand, Marten took Angua's hand, not in a handshake, but gently holding her hand at chest level, and bowed over it. To Angua's surprise, he didn't attempt to kiss her hand; instead she felt his breath on her fingers briefly as he bowed, the perfect gentleman, as he said,

"My dear Sergeant, of course," he released her hand, "and how, may I ask, is the remarkable Captain Carrot? It has been a good year since we last met; he was good enough to assist in the breaking up of a most regrettable drunken brawl involving some of my... less disciplined soldiers."

Angua suddenly found herself on the back foot.

"He's well..." she was about to add 'and please, call me Angua', but caught herself. Watch Sergeants do not allow themselves to be charmed by suspected criminals, especially not when on duty. She tried to continue, "We've brought-" but was cut off once again by the Colonel.

"And who," he asked, turning to take Sally's hand, "is your delightful colleague?" He took Sally's hand and bowed again, this time slightly more elaborately, as Sally replied,

"My name is Salac-"

"Constable," Angua muttered.

"... Constable Salacia Delorisista Amanita Trigestrata Zeldana Malifee-" Sally caught Angua's expression, "...ahem... please, call me Sally,"

Gently releasing Sally's hand, Marten replied,

"To say I am delighted to make your acquaintance does not do the elation I feel justice."

Angua tried to take control of the conversation again,

"Sir Jonathon, we've been asked to deliver this-"

Marten eagerly took the envelope from Angua's outstretched hand, and extended a hand to the butler, who had followed him back into the drawing room.

"Of course, how rude of me to waylay you with idle chat! Please, take a seat," the butler handed him a letter opener, "and ask for anything you desire. Drinks?"

As he opened the envelope (not even looking at the name and titles on the envelope), Sally replied, taking a seat,

"Well, if you have a good port..."

"No," Angua said, firmly, looking at Sally but talking to Marten. "Watch Officers do not drink on Duty."

Marten smiled,

"Of course. Forgive me for subjecting you to temptation." He looked at the (gilt edged) invitation. His eyes widened in surprise. "The City Watch Hogswatch Ball? I must say, I generally find Balls and functions tedious..."

"Commander Vimes has invited you and some of your fellow officers to show appreciation for your work for the city" Gods, Angua thought, how can I say this and keep a straight face? "The Commander, myself and several other officers were part of the Ankh-Morpork detachment serving in Borogravia. While the Vieuxrive expedition has received less attention from the press, His Grace wants you to know it is appreciated no less." I should have gone into acting...

Marten blinked once, and then flashed his winning grin again.

"Of course, Sergeant, I cannot turn down an invitation for the Duke of Ankh, can I? And if the said Duke is the famous Sir Samuel Vimes, it would take a damn fool to turn down the opportunity to meet such a man!" He smoothly pocketed the invitation, handing envelope and letter opener back to his butler. "You're sure I cannot offer you ladies drinks?"

Angua stood up, and Sally reluctantly followed suit.

"I'm sure you can, Sir Jonathon, but we must decline. We'll have to be going now," Angua swallowed a bit of her pride and arrogance, and added "we look forward to your company tomorrow evening."

For some reason, she found herself saluting the man, and saw Sally perform an abortive curtsey, until she realised that doing so in a short leather Watch skirt wasn't a real option.

Marten smiled and opened the drawing room door. The butler went through and opened the front door. Marten replied,

"Believe me; I await the event with ill repressed enthusiasm." He returned Angua's salute, and as the women went through the door he held open for them, he took Sally's hand again and, now he felt they had made better acquaintance, planted a brief, gentle kiss on the vampire's fingers. To Angua's amazement, as the front door closed behind them, she saw the beginnings of a blush on Sally's normally untouchably calm countenance.

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The room was dark. It wasn't so dark that features couldn't be made out, but it was dark enough that no one in the room could quite make out the entire face of anyone else. It was, in short, the kind of lighting that conspirators who know each other would use, purely on the theory that conspiracies shouldn't be conducted in well aired, bright halls.

One of the seated figures spoke;

"The shipment is quite complete?"

"It is," replied one of the standing figures. "Five hundred of them, perfect condition."

"The watch are quite unaware of the identity of the items?" asked a third figure. The silhouettes of the men turned to one man, leaning against the wall. The figure took a pipe from its lips, and replied,

"As far as we can tell, they haven't a clue."

"And these invitations?" the third figure pressed. "They are not signs of their suspicions?"

The first figure spoke before the fourth could reply.

"Vimes is suspicious of everyone and everything, especially if a man doesn't sound as though he was born in the gutter. He has no evidence, nor shall he find any."

A bottle of fortified wine caught the light as a figure filled several glasses.

"Still, we cannot take any risks... if we all go to this damned Ball-"

"If any of us do not," interrupted the first, seated figure again, "then we shall be followed by Cable Street, our every move and every contact recorded. We go. All of us." The man lifted one of the filled glasses, and the others quickly followed suit as he rose from his chair. Once every man had a glass, the figure raised his own and said, "Gentlemen... as they say in Vieuxrive... Viva la Revolution."

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NOTE: Sorry about the length of chapters, but there really are some lines that just NEED to be at the end…