Night Watch

he was powered by springs; when he moved a hand, the first few inches of movement were a blur, and then it gently coasted until it was brought into conjunction with whatever was the intended target. Sentences came out in spurts and pauses. There was no rhythm to the man.
    Vimes ignored the fuming corporal and climbed back onto the wagon. “Turn us round, Lance Constable,” he said. “G’night, Henry.”
    Sam waited until the wheels were rumbling over the cobbles before he turned, wide-eyed, to Vimes.
    “You were going to draw on him, weren’t you?” he said. “You were, Sarge, weren’t you?”
    “You just keep your eyes on the road, Lance Constable.”
    “But that was Captain Swing, that was! And when you told that man to prove he was Henry the Hamster, I thought I’d widd—choke! You knew they weren’t going to sign, right, Sarge? ’Cos if there’s a bit of paper saying they’ve got someone, then if anyone wants to find out—”
    “Just drive, Lance Constable.” But the boy was right. For some reason, the Unmentionables both loved and feared paperwork. They certainly generated a lot of it. They wrote everything down. They didn’t like appearing on other people’s paperwork, though. That worried them.
    “I can’t believe we got away with it, Sarge!”
    We probably haven’t, Vimes thought. But Swing has enough to worry him at the moment. He doesn’t care very much about a big stupid sergeant.
    He turned and banged on the ironwork.
    “Sorry for the inconvenience, ladies and gentlemen, but it appears the Unmentionables are not doing business tonight. Looks like we’ll have to do the interrogation ourselves. We’re not very experienced at this, so I hope we don’t get it wrong. Now, listen carefully. Are any of you serious conspirators bent on the overthrow of the government?” There was a stunned silence from within the wagon.
    “Come on, come on,” said Vimes. “I haven’t got all night. Does anyone want to overthrow Lord Winder by force?”
    “Well…no?” said the voice of Miss Palm.
    “Or by crochet?”
    “I heard that!” said another female voice sharply.
    “No one? Shame,” said Vimes. “Well, that’s good enough for me. Lance Constable, is it good enough for you?”
    “Er, yes, Sarge,” said young Sam nervously.
    “In that case, we’ll drop you all off on our way home, and my charming assistant Lance Constable Vimes will take, oh, half a dollar off each of you for traveling expenses for which you will get a receipt. Thank you for traveling with us, and we hope you will consider the hurry-up wagon in all your future curfew-breaking arrangements.”
    Vimes could hear shocked whispering behind him. This was not how things were supposed to go these days.
    “Sarge,” said Lance Constable Vimes.
    “Yep?”
    “Have you really got the eye of a mass-murderer?”
    “In the pocket of my other suit, yes.”
    “Hah.” Sam was quiet for a while, and when he spoke again he seemed to have something new on his mind.
    “Er, Sarge?”
    “Yes, lad?”
    “What’s a tuppenny upright, Sarge?”
    “It’s a kind of jam doughnut, lad. Did your mum ever make ’em?”
    “Yes, Sarge. Sarge?”
    “Yes, lad?”
    “I think it probably means something else as well, Sarge,” said Sam, sniggering. “Something a bit…rude…”
    “The whole of life is a learning process, Lance Constable.”
    They got the wagon back to the yard ten minutes later, and by that time Vimes knew that a new rumor was fanning out across the city. Young Sam had already whispered things to the other officers as the curfew-breakers were dropped off, and nobody gossips like a copper. They didn’t like the Unmentionables. Like petty criminals everywhere, the watchmen prided themselves on there being some depths to which they would not sink. There had to be some things below you, even if it was only mudworms.

    Rosie Palm bolted the door of her flat, leaned on it, and stared at Sandra.
    “What is he?” said Sandra, dumping her workbox on the table. It clanked within. “Is he on our side?”
    “You heard the lads!” snapped Rosie. “No bribes now! And then he drags us off to Swing’s bastards and then he won’t hand us over! I could kill him! I rescued him from the gutter, got Mossy to patch him up, and suddenly he’s playing big silly games!”
    “Yes, what is a tuppenny upright?” said Sandra brightly.
    Miss Palm paused. She quite enjoyed Sandra’s company, and the extra rent certainly came in