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Chapter XXIV
Sally had got off shift late, went straight to Bernie's and was now finishing off her steak on the way to Angua's while swatting away the flies.
"Pssssst!"
Came a weird sound from behind her. She turned quickly on her heel, but there was no one there. She shrugged.
"Pssssst!"
The sound came again from what had been in front of her but was now the new behind. She span on her heel, but there was still no one there. She began walking again.
"Pssssst!"
This time from an alleyway off to her left.
I should warn you," she began, testily, "that I have just come off the back of a rather stressful night-shift, and I'm not the most patient of people, even at the best of times."
"It's only me, sergeant," said a cold whisper from the shadows.
"Is that you, Phungus?" she asked, almost discerning an outline through the gloom.
"Yesss, sergeant," came the chilling reply.
Lance Constable Phungus was a bogeyman whom Sally had often spoken to but never actually seen, nor had anyone else as far as she was aware. Quite how he, or she, had ever been hired was something of a mystery. Sally stopped being irritated. Like all vampires she was in complete control of all her moods and emotions, almost all of the time. Phungus wasn't trying to be furtive, mysterious and eerie, it was simply what a bogeyman did. To ask them to do otherwise would be like telling a vampire to like garlic, or love his fellow man.
"Can I help you, lance corporal?" she asked in a friendly way. Like virtually everyone else, she rather liked Phungus, and he/she was a damned good cop.
From the far end of the alley came an icy breeze carrying the words:
"The captain would like to see you."
As the echo faded some pieces of paper blew down the alley and a terrified cat ran past her with its fur on end.
Would he indeed, she thought, well… Well, nothing. He was her boss and if he wanted to see her then he was going to see her. But she wasn't happy about it.
"I'm not happy about this," she said, closing the door of his office behind her.
He looked up from the papers on his desk. Anyone who wanted to lord it over you always had papers they were pretending to be busy with, to make you feel as though you were interrupting their pursuit of something far more important than you, even when they had requested –or in this case ordered- you to be there.
"Is there anything in my demeanour that would suggest to you that I care?"
Ah, it was going to be that sort of meeting then, was it? They hadn't really spoken much and in fact had barely seen each other since they discovered they had once been madly in love. That had been awkward enough given that they had to work together and that vampires never fell in love anyway. The fact that they were probably still madly in love made their working relationship a trifle fraught. Sally sensed that romance was not going to feature prominently in this particular encounter.
"No sir," she said, "sorry, sir."
"We're going for a walk."
"But I've just got off and…"
He didn't even have to use the flaming red eyes in the glare he gave her.
"Yes, sir," she concluded.
She was fairly certain that on this walk they wouldn't be holding hands like young lovers, gazing fondly into each other's eyes and chatting about having children and moving to the country. In this she was astutely correct.
"The first stop is The Duck," he said.
"Isn't it a bit early even for cops to…yes, sir," she concluded, demurely.
This obviously wasn't going to be conducted on an equal basis either.
"Good morning, captain," said Kate.
"Good morning, sergeant," said Patrick.
"G'day, mates," said Bruise and Sheara in unison.
The young people were clearing up the spilled beer and blood, and the broken glass and teeth, from what had clearly been a typical Tuesday night. There were already a few customers in for a hair of the wolf that had ripped their arm off, plus a few Officers of the Watch either coming off or going on shift. The career drunks were in the booths while the cops were at the bar, except when it was the other way round. A couple of the Watchmen looked startled to see their captain, but Harry wasn't interested in interfering with his men's legitimate pursuit of pain relief.
"And what can we get for you this lovely morning?" asked Kate breezily, "Or perhaps not," she added, quietly, looking at their faces.
"You can both give us an interview," said Harry, if you're not too busy."
"Well, actually…" Kate began.
"You first," said Harry, "and in private."
"…I do seem to have an opening in my diary just about now," she concluded.
Patrick watched Kate lead the two cops off towards the back office. For a moment he toyed with the idea of making a run for it, then he dropped the toy and kicked it into the gutter. He knew enough about both Harry and Sally to be sure that there would be Watchmen waiting for him outside and, unlike the ones in the bar, they wouldn't be the sort he could outfight or outrun. In this he was partially correct. Though the guard wasn't actually a Watchman he could both outfight and outrun Patrick. Mad Malky would do just about anything for a few drams and some slices of coo beastie.
"Well, now, what can I do for the City Watch?" asked Kate when they were all three seated in the back office.
"You can start by telling us what's going on," said Harry.
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, captain," said Kate, full of false innocence.
"Yes, you do," Harry insisted, "we mean with the Omnians."
"Your guess is as good as mine," she shrugged.
"No it isn't," said Harry, "if it was we wouldn't be here. The Patrician knows less about what's going on in this city than you do and he knows everything."
"That couldn't have made sense even in your head," laughed Kate.
"We know some of what's going on," said Sally, taking a different tack, "but not all, and we don't know why it's happening."
"Pour the beans," said Harry, the idea of spilling things didn't sit well with his vampire nature.
Kate looked thoughtful for a moment and then seemed to reach a decision.
"Well, what's happening is that Omnians are being attacked in the street more and more often. Not in The Shades, but in other parts of the city. They're being refused service in shops, while their own shops are getting their windows smashed and having graffiti daubed on their walls. Their children are being bullied in school and sometimes expelled for no reason… They're mostly safe if they stay in the Egitto, but even there bad things are starting to happen. As to why, well, partly it's the petty hatred being stirred up by rotten like rags like The Post…"
"But there's something else isn't there?" Sally interrupted.
"Yes," Kate admitted, "there's something else, but what it is I don't know; I really don't know."
"Ok, fair enough," Harry conceded, "but can we ask a favour of you?"
"You can ask," said Kate
"Would you be our eyes and ears? Let us know what's happening and, if anything's being organised, who the ringleaders are…that sort of thing?"
"What, be a grass, do you mean!?" she replied, mock offended.
"Yes," Harry had to admit.
"Well, normally…" Kate began.
"Normally, of course, I wouldn't ask," said Harry, "but on this occasion..."
"This is a bit different," she agreed. "Ok, I'll do it. It'll be good to be on the right side of the law for a change."
"You were never on the wrong side, Kate," said Harry, "always on the edge."
"Oh, do I get paid?" she asked.
"No."
"Didn't think so."
"Could I ask one more favour?" asked Harry.
"You're already pushing your luck, captain," said Kate, "but go on."
"Virtually everywhere seems to be infested with flies this summer…"
"Yes"
"But not here. How do you do it?"
"Did you see the lizard on the bar?"
"Yes."
"That's Cameron, my chameleon."
"And?"
"He likes to eat flies. He also has a tongue that's three feet long and moves faster than a bolt out of a crossbow."
"Where can I can I get one?" asked Harry, urgently.
"Howondaland," said Kate flatly.
"I suppose it'll keep," Harry sighed.
Patrick was the very picture of insouciance, if insouciance had been painted in delicate shades of pale blue and green. He wasn't exactly slouching in his chair but he could hardly have looked more relaxed if he'd been asleep.
"We know who you are," Harry began.
Not even the vaguest hint of the merest suggestion of a flicker crossed Patrick's face. Harry would have noticed, and even if he'd missed it, Sally wouldn't have done.
"No, you don't," was all he said.
"Ok," admitted Sally, "we don't know who you are, but we know what you are."
"And what am I, exactly?" asked Patrick, still as cool as Summer rain.
"You're an assassin," she said, simply.
Nothing in Patrick's demeanour betrayed anything. Nothing in the eyes, nothing in the face, nothing in the body language…but inside he was in emotional turmoil. He'd been rumbled.
"And what leads you to this, frankly ridiculous, conclusion?" he asked nonchalantly.
"Everything about you," said Sally, "your physique, the way you hold yourself, the way you move, they way you fight –you've been seen lots of times- but mostly it's the way you look. No one as handsome as you would be working in a bar when there are thousands of rich, silly ladies all over the city who'd scratch each other's eyes out just for the chance to treat you like a king. You have the face of a god, your…"
"Ok, sergeant, don't get carried away," said Harry.
"Sorry, sir," said Sally, slightly breathless.
"Suffice it to say, Patrick," Harry went on, "we can't find out exactly who you are, but we won't need to. As soon as we start making inquiries about a missing assassin the Guild will know who you are and…well, you know the rest."
They had him and they knew it; there was no point in denying it any longer.
"The face was a mistake," he sighed, "the work of a highly skilled but over-artistic Igor. Now, I assume some inordinately large bribe will be required." Being an assassin meant that he assumed everyone was as venal as he was. It was an assumption that had served him well thusfar.
He hadn't even considered trying to fight his way out. Gods knew he was good at what he did, but one vampire would be beyond even him, nevermind two. And money wasn't important to him anyway, though only because he had an awful lot of it.
"Sort of," said Harry.
"I'm intrigued," admitted Patrick, raising his eyebrows, "do go on."
"We'd like you to go under the bed."
"Which means what?"
"It's a new thing that the Watch has come up with," Harry explained, "a Watchman, out of uniform, pretends to be a villain and tries to infiltrate criminal organizations –other than the Guilds, of course- so that we might be better able to apprehend wrongdoers."
"Sounds like a fine idea," said Patrick, "but I sense there's a problem."
"Villains can spot a copper from the other side of the Disc –even if it looks like Nobby Nobbs," said Harry, "they say they can smell us."
"Though in Nobby's case, so can I," added Sally, "but they won't be able to smell you."
"I do wash more than is generally considered healthy by most citizens of Ankh-Morpork," said Patrick. "So, I'd be a spy?"
"Precisely," agreed Harry.
"Pretending to be a ghost?"
"Don't be so literal," Harry snarled.
"What fun," smiled Patrick, "but what would I be looking for?"
"Anything and everything to do with this Omnian business," Harry said, "but I should warn you, it could be very dangerous. We've already lost a couple of men and I don't want to lose any more. But I figure you can handle yourself."
"And also," Patrick observed, "should I come to a bad end, I'd be no great loss."
Harry just shrugged.
"Would I be allowed to punch people in the face, knee them in the guts, stamp on their fingers and kick them in the goolies?"
"Just like any other copper," Harry assured him.
"In that case, captain, we have ourselves a deal," said Patrick, offering his hand, which Harry shook.
"You haven't enquired about payment."
Patrick shrugged his shoulders: "Just happy to do my civic duty, sir."
Sally laughed out loud in spite of herself. As Mad Malky would say: "Aye, right!"
As they were leaving the bar she turned to Harry:
"Well," she said "with those two on our side we should find out what's going on pretty quickly."
"Oh, we'll find out alright," he agreed, "whether we'll be able to do anything about it is a different matter."
"Ah, yes," she said, frowning, "I hadn't thought of that. Where to now?"
"The Egitto, to listen to all the stuff that the Omnian's won't tell us."
Sally thought this was shaping up to be a long day."