Thud! - A Novel Of Discworld Part 3

"Yessir!"

"Well, we don't want any nasty accidents, do we, n.o.bby..."

"Nosir!"

"None of us want nasty accidents, I expect," said Vimes, looking around the room. Some of the constables, he was grimly glad to see, were sweating with the effort of not moving. "And it's so easy to have 'em, when your mind isn't firmly on the job. Understood?" of us want nasty accidents, I expect," said Vimes, looking around the room. Some of the constables, he was grimly glad to see, were sweating with the effort of not moving. "And it's so easy to have 'em, when your mind isn't firmly on the job. Understood?"

There was a general muttering.

"I can't hear you!"

This time there were audible riffs on the theme of "Yessir!"

"Right," snapped Vimes. "Now get out there and keep the peace, because as sure as h.e.l.l you won't do it in here!" He directed a special glare at Constables Brakens.h.i.+eld and Mica, and strode back to the main office, where he almost b.u.mped into Sergeant Angua.

"Sorry, sir, I was just fetching-" she began.

"I sorted it out, don't worry," said Vimes. "But it was that that close." close."

"Some of the dwarfs are really on edge, sir. I can smell it," said Angua.

"You and Fred Colon," said Vimes.

"I don't think it's just the Hamcrusher thing, sir. It's something...dwarfish."

"Well, I can't beat it out of them. And just when the day couldn't get any worse, I've got to interview a d.a.m.ned vampire."

Too late Vimes saw the urgent look in Angua's eyes.

"Ah...I think that would be me," said a small voice behind him.

Fred Colon and n.o.bby n.o.bbs, having been rousted from their having been rousted from their lengthy coffee break, proceeded gently up Broad Way, giving the ol' uniform an airing. What with one thing or another, it was probably a good idea not to be back at the Yard for a while. lengthy coffee break, proceeded gently up Broad Way, giving the ol' uniform an airing. What with one thing or another, it was probably a good idea not to be back at the Yard for a while.

They walked like men who had all day. They did have all day. They had chosen this particular street because it was busy and wide and you didn't get too many trolls and dwarfs in this part of town. The reasoning was faultless. In lots of areas, right now, dwarfs or trolls were wandering around in groups or, alternatively, staying still in groups in case any of those wandering b.a.s.t.a.r.ds tried any trouble in this this neighborhood. There had been little flare-ups for weeks. In these areas, n.o.bby and Fred considered, there wasn't much peace, so it was a waste of effort to keep what little was left of it, right? You wouldn't try keeping sheep in places where all the sheep got eaten by wolves, right? It stood to reason. It would look silly. Whereas in big streets like Broad Way there was lots of peace, which, obviously, needed keeping. Common sense told them this was true. It was as plain as the nose on your face, and especially the one on n.o.bby's face. neighborhood. There had been little flare-ups for weeks. In these areas, n.o.bby and Fred considered, there wasn't much peace, so it was a waste of effort to keep what little was left of it, right? You wouldn't try keeping sheep in places where all the sheep got eaten by wolves, right? It stood to reason. It would look silly. Whereas in big streets like Broad Way there was lots of peace, which, obviously, needed keeping. Common sense told them this was true. It was as plain as the nose on your face, and especially the one on n.o.bby's face.

"Bad business," said Colon, as they strolled. "I've never seen the dwarfs like this."

"It always gets tricky, Sarge, just before Koom Valley Day," n.o.bby observed.

"Yeah, but Hamcrusher's really got them on the boil and no mistake." Colon removed his helmet and wiped his brow. "I told Sam about my water, and he was impressed."

"Well, he would be," n.o.bby agreed. "It would impress anyone."

Colon tapped his nose. "There's a storm coming, n.o.bby."

"Not a cloud in the sky, Sarge," n.o.bby observed.

"Figure of speech, n.o.bby, figure of speech." Colon sighed and glanced sideways at his friend. When he continued, it was in the hesitant tones of a man with something on his mind. "As a matter of fact, n.o.bby, there was another matter about which, per say, I wanted to speak to you about, man to-" there was only the tiniest hesitation, "-man."

"Yes, Sarge?"

"Now you know, n.o.bby, that I've always taken a pers'nal interest in your moral well-being, what with you havin' no dad to put your feet on the proper path..."

"That's right, Sarge. I would have strayed no end if you hadn't," said n.o.bby virtuously.

"Well, you know you was telling me about that girl you're goin' out with, what was her name, now..."

"Tawneee, Sarge?"

"That's the...bunny. The one you said worked in a club, right?"

"That's right. Is there a problem, Sarge?" said n.o.bby anxiously.

"Not as such. But when you was on your day off last week, me an' Constable Jolson got called into the Pink p.u.s.s.yCat Club, n.o.bby. You know? There's pole-dancing and table dancing and stuff of that nature? And you know ol' Mrs. Spudding what lives in New Cobblers?"

"Ol' Mrs. Spudding with the wooden teeth, Sarge?"

"The very same, n.o.bby," said Colon magisterially. "She does the cleaning in there. And it appears that when she come in at eight o'clock in the morning ae-em, with no one else about, n.o.bby, well, I hardly like to say this, but it appears she took it into her head to have a twirl on the pole."

They shared a moment of silence as n.o.bby ran this image in the cinema of his imagination and hastily consigned much of it to the cutting-room floor.

"But she must be seventy-five, Sarge!" he said, staring at nothing in fascinated horror.

"A girl can dream, n.o.bby, a girl can dream. O'course, she forgot she wasn't as limber as she used to be, plus she got her foot caught in her long drawers and panicked when her dress fell over her head. She was in a bad way when the manager came in, having been upside down for three hours, with her false teeth fallen out on the floor. Wouldn't let go of the pole, too. Not a pretty sight, I trust I do not have to draw you a picture. Come the finish, Precious Jolson had to rip the pole out top and bottom and we slid her off. That girl's got the muscles of a troll, n.o.bby, I'll swear it. And then, n.o.bby, when we was bringing her 'round behind the scenes, this young lady wearing two sequins and a bootlace comes up and says she's a friend of yours! I did not know where to put my face!"

"You're not supposed to put it anywhere, Sarge. They throw you out for that sort of thing," observed n.o.bby.

"You never told me she was a pole dancer, n.o.bby!" Fred wailed.

"Don't say it like that, Sarge." n.o.bby sounded a little hurt. "This is modern times. And she's got cla.s.s, Tawneee has. She even brings her own pole. No hanky-panky."

"But, I mean...showin' her body off in lewd ways, n.o.bby! Dancing around without her vest and practic'ly no drawers on. Is that any way to behave?"

n.o.bby considered this deep metaphysical question from various angles.

"Er...yes?" he ventured.

"Anyway, I thought you were still walking out with Verity Pushpram? That's a handy little seafood stall she runs," Colon said, sounding as though he was pleading a case.

"Oh, Hammerhead's a nice girl if you catch her on a good day, Sarge," n.o.bby conceded.

"You mean those days when she doesn't tell you to b.u.g.g.e.r off and chases you down the street throwing crabs at you?"

"Exactly those days, Sarge. But good or bad, you can never get rid of the smell of fish. And her eyes are too far apart. I mean, it's hard to get a relations.h.i.+p goin' with a girl who can't see you if you stand right in front of her."

"I shouldn't think Tawneee can see you if you're up close, either!" Colon burst out. "She's nearly six feet tall and she's got a bosom like...well, she's a big girl, n.o.bby." Fred Colon was at a loss. n.o.bby n.o.bbs and a dancer with big hair, a big smile, and...general bigitigy? Look upon this picture, and on this! It did your head in, it really did.

He struggled on. "She told me, n.o.bby, that she'd been Miss May on the centerfold of Girls, Giggles and Garters Girls, Giggles and Garters! Well, I mean...!"

"What do you mean, Sarge? Anyway, she wasn't just Miss May, she was the first week in June as well," n.o.bby pointed out. "It was the only way they had room." do you mean, Sarge? Anyway, she wasn't just Miss May, she was the first week in June as well," n.o.bby pointed out. "It was the only way they had room."

"Err...well, I ask you," Fred floundered, "is a girl who displays her body for money the kind of wife for a copper? Ask yourself that!"

For the second time in five minutes, what pa.s.sed for n.o.bby's face wrinkled up in deep thought.

"Is this a trick question, Sarge?" he said at last. "'Cos I know for a fact that Haddock has got that picture pinned up in his locker and every time he opens it he goes, 'Pwaor, will you look at th-' "

"How did you meet her, anyway?" said Colon quickly.

"What? Oh, our eyes met when I shoved an IOU in her garter, Sarge," said n.o.bby happily.

"And...she hadn't just been hit on the head, or something?"

"I don't think so, Sarge."

"She's not...ill, is she?" said Fred Colon, exploring every likelihood.

"No, Sarge!"

"Are you sure sure?"

"She says perhaps we're two halves of the same soul, Sarge," said n.o.bby dreamily.

Colon stopped with one foot raised above the pavement. He stared at nothing, his lips moving.

"Sarge?" said n.o.bby, puzzled by this.

"Yeah...yeah," said Colon, more or less to himself. "Yeah. I can see that. Not the same stuff in each half, obviously. Sort of...sieved..."

The foot landed.

"I say!"

It was more of a bleat than a cry, and it came from the door of the Royal Art Museum. A tall, thin figure was beckoning to the watchmen, who strolled over.

"Yessir?" said Colon, touching his helmet.

"We've had a burglareah, officer!"

"Burglar rear?" said n.o.bby.

"Oh dear, sir," said Colon, putting a warning hand on the corporal's shoulders. "Anything taken?"

"Years. I rather think that's hwhy it was a burglareah, you see?" said the man. He had the att.i.tude of a preoccupied chicken, but Fred Colon was impressed. You could barely understand the man, he was that posh. It was not so much speech as modulated yawning. "I'm Sir Reynold St.i.tched, the curator of Fine Art, and I was hwalking through the Long Gallereah and...oh, dear, they took the Rascal!"

The man looked at two blank faces.

"Methodia Rascal?" he tried. "The Battle of Koom Valley?" It is a priceless work of art!"

Colon hitched up his stomach. "Ah," he said, "that's serious. We'd better take a look at it. Er...I mean, the locale where it was situated in."

"Years, years, of course," said Sir Reynold. "Do come this hway. I am given to understand that the modern hWatch can learn a lot just by looking at the place where a thing was, is that not so?"

"Like, that it's gone?" said n.o.bby. "Oh, years. years. We're We're good good at that." at that."

"Er...Quite so," said Sir Reynold. "Do come this way."

The watchmen followed. They had been inside the museum before, of course. Most citizens had, on days when no better entertainment presented itself. Under the governance of Lord Vetinari it hosted fewer modern exhibitions these days, since his lords.h.i.+p held Views, but a gentle stroll among the ancient tapestries and rather brown and dusty paintings was a pleasant way of spending an afternoon. Plus, it was always nice to look at the pictures of big pink women with no clothes on.

n.o.bby was having a problem. "Here, Sarge, what's he going on about?" he whispered. "It sounds like he's yawning all the time. What a galler rear?"

"A gallery, n.o.bby. That's very high-cla.s.s talkin,' that is."

"I can hardly understand him!"

"Shows it's high cla.s.s, n.o.bby. It wouldn't be much good if people like you you could understand, right?" could understand, right?"

"Good point, Sarge," n.o.bby conceded. "I hadn't thought of that."

"You found it missing this morning, sir?" said Colon, as they trailed after the curator into a gallery still littered with ladders and dust sheets.

"Years indeed!"

"So it was stolen last night, then?"

Sir Reynold hesitated.

"Er...not necessarileah, I'm afraid. We have been refurbis.h.i.+ng the Long Gallereah. The picture was too big to move, of course, so hwe had it covered in heavy dust sheets for the past month. But when we took them down this morning, there hwas only the frame! Observe!"

The Rascal occupied-or rather, had had occupied-an actual frame some ten feet high and fifty feet long, which, as such, was pretty close to being a work of art in its own right. It was still there, framing nothing but uneven, dusty plaster. occupied-an actual frame some ten feet high and fifty feet long, which, as such, was pretty close to being a work of art in its own right. It was still there, framing nothing but uneven, dusty plaster.

"I suppose some rich private collector has it now," Sir Reynold moaned. "But how could he keep it a secret? The mural is one of the most recognizable paintings in the hworld! Every civilized person hwould spot it in an instant!"

"What did it look like?" said Fred Colon.

Sir Reynold performed that downs.h.i.+ft of a.s.sumptions that was the normal response to any conversation with Ankh-Morpork's Finest.

"I can probableah find you a copy," he said weakly. "But the original is fifty feet long! Have you never never seen it?" seen it?"

"Well, I remember being brought to see it when I was a kiddie, but it's a bit long, really. You can't really see see it, anyway. I mean, by the time you get to the other end you've forgotten what was happening back up the line, as it were." it, anyway. I mean, by the time you get to the other end you've forgotten what was happening back up the line, as it were."

"Alas, that is regrettableah true, Sergeant," said Sir Reynold. "And hwhat is so vexing is that the hwhole point point of this refurbishment hwas to build a special circular room to hold the Rascal. His ideah, you know, hwas that the viewer should be of this refurbishment hwas to build a special circular room to hold the Rascal. His ideah, you know, hwas that the viewer should be hwholly hwholly encircled by the mural and feel right in the encircled by the mural and feel right in the thick thick of the action, as it hwere. You hwould be there in Koom Valleah! He called it panoscopic art. Say hwhat you like about the current interest, but the extra visitors hwould have made it possible to display the picture as hwe believe he intended it to be displayed. And now this!" of the action, as it hwere. You hwould be there in Koom Valleah! He called it panoscopic art. Say hwhat you like about the current interest, but the extra visitors hwould have made it possible to display the picture as hwe believe he intended it to be displayed. And now this!"

"If you were going to move it, why didn't you just take it down and put it away nice and safe, sir?"