Night Watch полностью

“Well, yeah, obviously, but…well, Cable Street…I mean, you don't know what it's like here, I can see that, but with the Unmentionables round at Cable Street it's best not to—”

“Listen, I'm not telling you to kick the door down and shout ‘put down those thumbscrews!’” said Vimes. “I'm telling you we keep track of prisoners. When you arrest a man, you sign him over to Snouty, don't you? When he leaves, Snouty or the orderly man signs him out, doesn't he? It's basic custody discipline, man! So if you hand a prisoner over to Cable Street, someone there gives you a signature. Understand? No one just disappears.”

Knock's face showed a man contemplating an immediate future that contained fewer opportunities for personal gain and a greatly raised risk of being shouted at.

“And just to make sure everyone understands, I'll ride the wagon tonight,” said Vimes. “But first I'll take that lad Vimes out for a stroll and shake him up a bit.”

“He could do with it,” said Knock. “Can't get his mind right. Good with his hands but you have to tell him everything twice.”

“Maybe I'll shout, then,” said Vimes. “Vimes!”

Lance-Constable Vimes shivered to attention.

“We're going to take a stroll, lad,” said Vimes. “Time you knew what's what,” he nodded to Knock, took his younger self by the shoulder, and marched out.

“What d'you think, sarge?” said Coates, coming up behind Knock as the sergeant glared at the departing back.

“He likes you,” said Knock bitterly. “Oh, yes. Apple of his eye, you are. You're his ol' pal. You're being bumped up to lance-corporal.”

“Think he'll last?”

“I'll give him a couple of weeks,” said Knock. “I've seen 'em like that before. Big men in little towns, coming here, thinking they're the bee's nose. We soon cut 'em down to size. What d'you think?”

“Dunno, sarge,” said Coates. “Still thinking.”

“Knows his coppering, mind you,” said Knock. “Bit too cocky though. He'll learn. He'll learn. There's ways. We'll show him. Take him down a peg. Teach him how we do things around here—”

Vimes always preferred to walk by himself. And now there were two of him, walking by himself. It was a strange sensation, and gave him the impression that he was looking through a mask.

“No, not like that,” he said. “I always have to teach people to walk. You swing the foot, like this. Get it right and you can keep going all day. You're not in a hurry. You don't want to miss things.”

“Yes, sarge,” said young Sam.

It was called proceeding. Vimes proceeded along Treacle Mine Road, and felt—magnificent. Of course there were lots of things to worry about, but right here and now all he had to do was patrol, and it felt fine. Not much paperwork in the old Watch; in fact, come to think of it he'd probably doubled it. All he had to do right now was his duty, as he'd been taught it. He had nothing to do but be himself.

Young Sam wasn't saying much. That was good sense.

“I see you've got a bell there, lad,” said Vimes, after a while.

“Yes, sarge.”

“Regulation bell?”

“Yes, sarge. Sergeant Knock gave it to me.” I'll bet he did, thought Vimes.

“When we get back, just you swap it for someone else's. Doesn't matter whose. No one'll say anything.”

“Yes, sarge.” Vimes waited. “Why, sarge? A bell's a bell.”

“Not that one,” said Vimes. “That's three times the weight of the normal bell. They give it to rookies to see what they do. Did you complain?”

“No, sarge.”

“That's the way. Keep quiet, and pass it on to some other sucker when we get back. That's the coppers' way. Why did you come into the job, lad?”

“My mate Iffy joined last year. He said you got free food and a uniform and you could pick up the extra dollar here and there.”

“That'd be Iffy Scurrick stationed over in the Dolly Sisters house, then,” said Vimes. “And you've been picking up the odd dollar, have you?”

They walked in silence for a moment. Then Sam said: “Have I got to give that dollar back, sarge?”

“Are you worth a dollar?” said Vimes.

“I gave it our mum, sarge.”

“Did you tell her how you got it?”

“I didn't want it!” Sam blurted out. “But Corporal Quirke said—”

“Was he worth listening to?”

“Dunno, sarge.”

“You don't know? I bet your mum didn't bring you up to think like that,” said Vimes. No, she bloody well didn't, he thought. She'd tan your hide, copper or not, if she knew it was a dodgy dollar.

“No, sarge. But they're all at it, sarge. I don't mean the lads, sarge, but you only have to look round the city. Our rent's going up, taxes go up, there's these new taxes all the time, and it's all just cruel, sarge, it's cruel. Winder sold us all to his mates, and that's a fact, sir.”