Who Watches the Watch?
Chapter 6
Vimes and Angua emerged from Cable Street and began making strides along Treacle Mine Road.
"You really think the docks are a possibility, sir?" said Angua.
"Could be..." said Vimes. "Don't the sewers spill out along there somewhere?"
"Yes, sir, along with numerous other places. Those are only the approved sites, of course."
"Then the least we can do is check it out."
"Okay, but I don't think my nose is going to be much help."
"I'm hoping it won't need to be."
As they headed towards Misbegot Bridge, there was more activity than Vimes had expected. At first, it looked like total confusion, but as they neared, Carrot's reassuring form could be seen in the distance, towering above everyone else, his arms a blur as he assigned tasks left, right and centre. Vimes was amazed. Citizens were actually falling over themselves to help him. Good old Captain Carrot, eh?
They headed towards him.
"Ah, sir!" said Carrot, as they got nearer. "I have all the bridges covered now, so if Noakes tries to make it to the Watch House, we'll know the moment he sets foot on the Isle of Gods. I've also deployed people along Phedre Road, just in case he tries to come in over The Cut."
"And if he's not intending to come in at all?" said Vimes, trying not to sound cynical. "Supposing he just decides to leg it?"
"He won't get out of the city, sir. We've had watchmen on the gates all night, and no one's seen hair nor hide of him. That means he's still somewhere inside the walls."
Vimes nodded. "That's good work, Carrot. Well done."
Vimes paused for a moment, and tried to get inside Noakes' head. What would he be thinking now? Noakes was a patient and intelligent watchman. He wasn't prone to acting rashly. The mob might run blindly, but Noakes wouldn't. Oh, he'd run from the alley, true enough, but what he'd acted on then was probably pure survival instinct. By now, if he'd had chance to get his head together, he'd want to talk, wouldn't he? The mob weren't going to give him that chance. Just look at them! All they wanted to do was put a rope round his neck. Gods, they were keyed up now, what in the hells would they be like by the time they caught up with him?
"There's nowhere for him to run, sir," Carrot was saying. "The noose is tightening..."
"Nice metaphor, Carrot." Vimes stared at the crowd. They're actually enjoying this, he thought. The thrill of the hunt. And we're helping to trap him...
It suddenly dawned on Vimes just how much danger Noakes was in...
"Just make sure we stay on top of this, Carrot, eh?" he said quietly. "You know we need to get to him first, don't you?"
"Of course, sir."
Suddenly, a watchman ran up to them, waving a piece of paper.
"Message from the Watch House, sir!" he said. "Fresh off the clacks!"
Vimes took it, and read it quickly.
He looked shocked.
"Something important, sir?" said Angua, noting Vimes' strange expression.
"I'm wanted back at the Watch House," said Vimes, staring at her. "Apparently, we have a new witness..."
-o0o-
Vimes and Angua practically flew through the Watch House door.
"He came in just a moment ago, sir..." said Colon, climbing down from his high desk. "He'd been—"
"Where is he?" Vimes demanded.
"Over here, mister Vimes..."
Vimes turned.
"Frankie?"
An old beggar was huddled in a threadbare overcoat, hunkered down by the Watch House stove. He was shivering, despite the fact the fire was blazing fiercely. Someone had thoughtfully given him a cup of tea.
"Frankie Arnold?" said Vimes, moving towards him.
"That's right, mister Vimes..."
"Hold on," said Angua. "Didn't I speak to you earlier? Weren't you the one telling me about how Captain Noakes had been good to you and the other beggars?"
"That's right, miss."
"So, you have something new to tell us?" said Vimes.
"Not... new, exactly," said the beggar awkwardly. "See, I didn't come forward before because, well, I was a bit worried..."
"It's all right, Frankie," said Vimes. "You're safe in the Watch House. So, you have something to tell us?"
The beggar nodded. "See, what I told the young miss here earlier, well... I thought that would be enough."
"Enough for what?" said Vimes.
"To put you in the picture..." said the beggar, meaningfully. "About that nice watchman of yours..."
"Frankie, you're not making much sense," said Vimes. "Just tell me, have you heard something?"
"No, mister Vimes, I seen it. Seen it with me own eyes."
Vimes stared. "Frankie, you're blind!"
The beggar looked pained. "Partially sighted, mister Vimes... See, that's why I was worried... on account of, well... it's me livelihood..."
"Your livelihood?" Vimes growled; he shrugged Angua's hand off as she touched his shoulder. "You were worried about your livelihood when there's a man's life at stake?"
"Well, I didn't know a mob was going to form, did I?" the beggar wailed. "It's all got out of hand since I spoke to the young miss! Look, do you want to hear what I got to say, or don't you?"
"Oh, you bet I do, Frankie..."
"Alright, then... well, I was on me usual patch..." The beggar was looking at Angua now; he'd deemed Vimes' face far too terrifying. "That's along Heroes Street... It was getting late, and I was thinking about calling it a day, but I knew that nice watchman of yours would be along soon, so I hung around a bit longer. He lives with that friend of his just round the corner in Short Street, you know."
"Yes, Frankie. We know where he lives," said Vimes.
"Well, sure enough, along he comes. He gives me a few coins like he always does, and then goes on his way. And then this couple appeared; I only got a glimpse of the woman, and they disappeared down an alley. Your watchman didn't take no notice of them. But then this woman, she screamed, ghastly it was! Your watchman ran back, naturally, and he disappeared down the alley, too. Next thing I know, the man comes running out, there's another scream, but the man's legging it down the street by now! I waited for your watchman to start chasing him, but he never did! He never come out at all! Well, I wasn't sure what was going on. But I wasn't supposed to be able to see any of this. So what could I do?"
"What did you do, Frankie?"
"Well, there was no one else around, so as I passed the alley I took a peek. I could see that woman lying dead, but your watchman was nowhere to be seen! For a moment there, I wondered about him. But then I thought, no, I know he's a good man, if he left by another way, then he must have had a good reason to. It's best I let the Watch sort this out, I thought. I mean, I didn't think anyone was going to think he did it..." The beggar looked from Angua to Vimes wretchedly. "I thought you would've had it all worked out by now, see... thought this case would be solved... I didn't know I was going to be the only one who saw someone running from the alley, did I...?"
"Well, I'm glad you finally decided to come forward, Frankie," said Vimes at last. "But none of this is going to be much help unless we get a name."
"Oh, I got a name for you, mister Vimes..." said the beggar. "Ainsley Quent."
-o0o-
Vimes' feet hardly touched the street as he and Angua ran down Welcome Soap.
"You know Ainsley Quent, sir?" said Angua, struggling to keep up with him.
"Know of him," said Vimes. "Has a bit of an eye for the ladies, apparently. Any lady, that is. He gets them, too, smarmy bastard. Sounds like he's been adding to his repertoire. Only this time, he's in deep cacky!"
"Lucky for us Nobby knew where he lived, but you're not expecting him to be home, are you, sir?"
"He'd bloody well better be..." Vimes growled. "Anyway, why shouldn't he be? No one suspects him, do they? And as far as he knows, no one knows he was down the alley."
"So he thinks he's well out of it, then?"
"So he thinks. But he's in for a shock, Angua. Do you still have my dis-organizer?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. Because I want you to record every damn word of this conversation with Mr. Quent, do you hear?"
"Oh, perfectly, sir..."
-o0o-