Snuff (32 page)

V
imes woke in damp and utter darkness with sand under his cheek. Some parts of his body reported for duty, others protested that they had a note from their mother. After a while little insistent clues evolved: there was the sound of surf, the chatter of people and, for some reason, what sounded like the trumpeting of an elephant.

At this point something stuck a finger in one of his nostrils and pulled hard. “Upsee-daisy, Mr. Po-leess-maan, otherwise you biggest pancake I ever seen! Upsee-daisy! Save Goblins! Big hero! Hurrah! Everybody get clap!”

It was a familiar voice, but it couldn't have been Stinky, because Vimes had seen the little goblin completely crushed. But Vimes tried to pull himself up anyway and this was almost impossible because of the stinking fishy-smelling debris that covered him like a shroud. He couldn't bring his arm around to swat whatever blasted thing it was that was still tugging at his nostril, but he did manage to at least raise himself enough to realize that there was a
lot
of debris on top of him.

He could make out what seemed like the thump of an elephant's footfall, and in his state of comfortable hallucination wondered idly what an elephant was doing at the seaside, and how much care said elephant would take to avoid just another load of flotsam. This thought crystallized just as the tugging at his nose stopped and the cracked voice shouted, “Rise and shine, Mr. Vimes, 'cos here come Jumbo!”

Vimes managed the champion press-up of all time and sprang clear, dripping driftwood and barnacles, just as a foot the size of a dustbin thumped down where his head had been.

“Hooray, no flattery for Mr. Vimes!”

Vimes looked down and saw, about half an inch from the family-sized toenail of the elephant, who incidentally now wore an expression of some embarrassment, the figure of Stinky bouncing up and down excitedly on the tip of its trunk. Other people had spotted Vimes too, and were hurrying toward him, and it was with a terrifying relief that he spotted the distinctive helmets of the Quirm City Watch, which he had always thought were far too fussy and militaristic for proper coppers, but now viewed as shining beacons of sanity.

An officer with a captain's helmet said, “Commander? Are you all right? Everyone thought you'd been washed away!”

Vimes tried to brush mud and sand off his torn shirt and managed to say, “Well, the lads back in Ankh-Morpork gave me a bucket and spade for my holiday, so I thought I ought to try it out. Never mind about me, what about the
Fanny
? What about the
people
?”

“All fine, sir, as far as we can tell. A few bangs and bruises, of course. It was amazing, sir, the men who look after the elephants at Quirm Zoo saw it happen! They take the creatures down to the surf in the morning to have a wash and a bit of a play before the crowds come along, and one said he saw the
Fanny
go right over the top of the dock on the crest of the wave, sir, and it sort of settled down on the beach. I had a look inside, and I'd say she'll need a month or so in the boat yard, and the paddle wheels are smashed to blazes, but it'll be the talk of the river for years!”

By now an apologetic zookeeper was steering his charge away from Vimes, allowing him to see a beach covered in damp rubbish and, he was surprisingly pleased to note, quite a large number of chickens, scratching busily for worms. One of them, totally oblivious to Vimes, scratched at some seaweed for a moment, hunkered down with a cross-eyed expression, gurgled once or twice and then stood up, looking rather relieved. He saw that it had left an egg on the sand. At least he supposed it to be an egg. It was square. He picked it up and looked down at the chickens, and in his half-hallucinating state said, “Well, that definitely looks complicated to me.”

Out on the surf the two oxen were standing nearly neck deep in the water, and perhaps it was only his imagination that led Vimes to believe that the water around them was steaming.

And now more people were running and chickens were running away, and there was even Ten Gallons, and Mrs. Sillitoe with her daughter, looking damp, and with blankets around them, but most importantly not looking dead. Vimes, who had been holding his breath for too long, breathed out. He breathed out even further when Ten Gallons slapped him on the back, and Mrs. Sillitoe gave him a kiss. “What about Gastric?” he said, “And where's Feeney?”

Mrs. Sillitoe smiled. “They're fine, Commander Vimes, as far we can tell. They're a bit battered, but sleeping it off. No long-term problems according to the medic. I'm sure they'll be fine, thanks to you!”

She stood back as a Quirmian officer handed Vimes a mug of coffee. It had sand in it, but never had sandy coffee tasted better. “All sorted out very well, you might say, sir. We even made sure those damn goblins caught their boat!”

Never in the field of coffee-making had so much of the stuff been sprayed so far and over so many. Vimes stared beyond the surf where, in the distance, a ship had left the port and was making good sail. He said, “Fetch me Acting Captain Haddock right now!”

Acting Captain Haddock arrived at a run six minutes later and Vimes couldn't help noticing that he had a bit of breakfast around the edge of his mouth. “Our relationship with Commandant Fournier is cordial at the moment, is it not?” said Vimes.

Haddock grinned widely. “Commander, when he gets down here you may have to try hard to stop him kissing you on both cheeks. Mrs. Sillitoe is his daughter.”

“Was happy to be of assistance,” said Vimes, looking around absently, “and so would you tell these gentlemen that I want a fast boat, one fast enough to catch that ship, and a decent squad of men to crew it, and I want them now, and while I'm waiting I'd like someone to get me a clean shirt and a bacon sandwich…without avec.”

“They have a pretty swift cutter, commander, for chasing smugglers!”

“Good, and get me a cutlass. I've always wanted to try one.” Vimes thought for a moment and added, “And make that another two bacon sandwiches. And a lot more coffee. And make that one more bacon sandwich. And, Haddock, if you can scavenge a bottle of Merkel and Stingbat's very famous old brown sauce, I swear I'll make you a full sergeant when your term here is up, 'cos any man who can find a proper down-and-dirty Ankh-Morpork sauce in Quirm, home of five hundred bloody types of mayonnaise, without getting his eye full of spit
deserves
to be a sergeant in anybody's force!”

And then, as whatever had been holding Sam Vimes up drained away, he fell gently backward, dreaming of bacon sandwiches and brown sauce.

Even Constable Haddock or, as he was now, Acting Captain Haddock, would agree that he was not the sharpest knife in the box, but it was amazing, the things you could open with a blunt instrument. As he hurried away on this prestigious errand he was stopped by one of the Quirm officers, who said, “Hareng!
*
Have you heard of a watchman called Petit Fou Artour?”

“Wee Mad Arthur? Yes, he's one of our lads!”

“Well, you had better come quickly, my friend, because he is in our Watch House. Strong little fellow, isn't he? A few of the other officers had laughed at him, he said, but I believe that they have learned the error of their ways—the hard way, as it happened. Apparently he has been sent to find Commandant Vimes.”

S
am Vimes awoke from a pig's nightmare to find himself lying on a pile of sacks in a godown in the docks. He was carefully lifted to his feet by Acting Constable Haddock and led unsteadily to a crude table behind which was a chef presiding over the sizzling makings of a bacon sandwich, or rather several bacon sandwiches. “He screamed a bit,” said Haddock, “when I insisted on no mayonnaise, but right now you can do no wrong here, commander. And I have one unopened bottle of Merkel and Stingbat's finest, sir, the only one in the city. I'm afraid, however, that you'll have to eat on the go, but the chef is packing the sandwiches in a hamper, with hot charcoal to keep them warm. No time to hang about, sir. The cutter will leave the dock in ten minutes.”

A notebook was pushed under Vimes's nose. “What's this?”

“Your signature to my promotion to full sergeant, commander,” said Haddock carefully. “I hope you don't mind, but you did promise.”

“Good man,” said Vimes. “Always write things down.”

Haddock looked proud. “I've also arranged to have on board a selection of cutlasses for your perusal, commander.”

Vimes struggled into his new shirt, and as his head appeared he said, “I want you to come too, Kipper. You know your way around here better than me. By the way, what did you do with the prisoner?”

Haddock said, “What prisoner would that be, commander?”

And for a moment Vimes's blood froze. “You didn't find a man tied up anywhere on the
Fanny
?”

Now Haddock looked worried. “No, sir, no one by the time we got there. The place was a mess, sir. Sorry, sir, we didn't know!”

“No reason why you should've done. Sorry to shout, but if the Quirm police think the sun is shining out of my arse then tell them they should be looking for a youngish-looking individual known as Stratford. He's a double murderer, at least…vicious and by now certainly armed. Tell them they'll be doing everybody a favor if they keep guard on the boat, on the walking wounded and all the lads in your infirmary, and also they should send a clacks to Pseudopolis Yard right now to say that Commander Vimes requires that two members of the Watch should hasten via golem horse to Ramkin Hall to keep guard over Lady Sybil and Young Sam. I don't want them to hang about: I know those things are bad news to ride, but Stratford is a nut job—they
must
hurry!”

“Excuse me, commander,” said one of the Quirm officers, “we all speak pretty good Morporkian here.
Everybody
here speaks Morporkian. If you hear us speaking Quirmian it's because we want to talk about you behind your back. We salute you, Commander Vimes, we will send your clacks and search everywhere for your murderer and take great care of the wounded. Now, please hurry down to the dock. The
Queen of Quirm
is pretty ancient, only one step away from being a hulk. Our cutter should catch up with it in a few hours. Shall we go?”

C
ome on, sir,” said Haddock, “and Wee Mad Arthur will brief you on the way.”

“Wee Mad Arthur!”

“Yes, commander. Apparently he got sent to foreign parts to do with this goblin business, flew back to Ankh-Morpork and then got sent straight here to you. He's got a story to tell you and no mistake.”

“Where is he?” said Vimes.

“They should be releasing him from custody right now, sir. A laughable misunderstanding, no real harm done, all will be forgiven and all will probably heal, I'm sure.”

Vimes was wise enough to leave it at that.

O
f course, the seasickness didn't help, but that didn't begin to cut in until afterward, when Wee Mad Arthur had finished his breathless account. “And what did you find in the huts?” said Vimes.

“More goblins, sir, all shapes and sizes, little ones too. Most of them dead, the rest in a very bad way, in my opinion. I did what I could for them, such as it was. To tell ye the truth, sir, I think they were bewildered about everything, the poor wee devils, but there's grub and water there of a sort and I don't reckon those guards are going to move in a hurry, ye ken.” He made a face and added, “Really weird, those goblins. I let them out and they just milled around, not knowing what the hell to do. I mean, crivens, if it were me I'd be out of there like a shot and give those scunners a right good kicking in the fork while they was lying down. As for the men, well, I kenned this was urgent and I could always fly back tomorrow and pour some water on them at least, but I thought the Watch should know and so made haste back to Ankh-Morpork and they told me where you'd gone on holiday, and Lady Sybil said you'd gone down that mucky old river, so all I had to do was fly down until I got to Quirm and when I found a big awful terrible mess I kenned that was something to do with you, commander.”

Wee Mad Arthur hesitated. He was never quite sure what Vimes thought of him, given that the man considered Feegles in general a nuisance. When Vimes was slow to reply, he asked, “I hope I did what ye would have done, commander?”

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, turning 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.”