Monstrous Regiment - Terry Pratchett [50]
Maladict was on his knees, going through his pack with a distracted air.
“My coffee’s gone, Sarge.”
“Should’ve packed it properly, then,” said Jackrum unsympathetically.
“I did, Sarge! I washed out the engine and packed it up with the bean bag after supper last night. I know I did. I don’t take coffee lightly!”
“If someone else did, they’re going to wish I’d never been born,” growled Jackrum, looking around at the rest of the squad. “Anyone else lost anything?”
“Er…I wasn’t going to say anything, ’cos I wasn’t sure,” Shufti volunteered, “but my stuff looked as if it had been pulled about when I opened my pack just now…”
“Oh-ho!” said Jackrum. “Well, well, well! I’ll say this once, lads. Pinching from yer mates is a hanging offence, understood? Nothing breaks down morale faster’n some sneaky little sod dipping into people’s packs. And if I find out someone’s been at it, I’ll swing on their heels!” He glared at the squad. “I ain’t gonna demand that you all empty out your packs as if you’s criminals,” he said, “but you’d better check that nothing’s missing. O’course, one of you might have packed something that wasn’t theirs by accident, okay. Packing in a rush, poor light, easy to do. In which case, you sort it out amongst yourselves, understand? Now, I’m off to have a shave. Lieutenant Blouse is having a throw-up behind the shelter after a-viewin’ of the corpses, poor chap.”
Polly rummaged desperately in her pack. She’d thrown things in any old how last night, but what she was frantically searching for was—
—not there.
Despite the heat from the charcoal mounds, she shivered.
The ringlets had gone. Feverishly, she tried to remember the events of yesterday evening. They’d just dumped their packs as soon as they were in the barracks, right?
And Maladict had made himself some coffee at suppertime. He’d washed and dried the little machine—
There was a thin little wail. Wazzer, the meager contents of her pack spread around her, held up the coffee engine. It had been stamped almost flat.
“B-b-b—” she began.
Polly’s mind worked faster, like a millwheel in a flood. Then everyone took their packs into the back room with all the mattresses, didn’t they? And so they’d still be there when the squad fought the troopers—
“Oh, Wazz,” said Shufti. “Oh, dear…”
So who might have sneaked in through the back door? There was no one around except the squad and the cavalrymen. Perhaps someone wanted to watch, and cause a little trouble on the way—
“Strappi!” she said aloud. “It must have been him! The little weasel ran into the cavalry and then snuck back to watch! He was dar—damn well going through our packs out the back! Oh, come on,” she added as they stared at her. “Can you see Wazzer stealing from anyone? Anyway, when did she have the chance?”
“Wouldn’t they have taken him prisoner?” said Tonker, staring at the crushed machine in Wazzer’s shaking hands.
“If he’d whipped off his shako and jacket he’d just be another stupid civilian, wouldn’t he? Or he could just say he was a deserter. He could make up some story,” said Polly. “You know how he was with Wazzer. He went through my pack, too. Stole…something of mine.”
“What was it?” said Shufti.
“Just something, okay? He just wanted to…make trouble.”
She watched them thinking.
“Sounds convincing,” said Maladict, nodding abruptly. “Little weasel. Okay, Wazz, just fish out the beans and I’ll do the best I can—”
“T-theres no b-b-b—”
Maladict put a hand over his eyes.
“No beans?” he said. “Please, has anyone got the beans?”
There was a general rummaging, and a general lack of a result.
“No beans,” moaned Maladict. “He threw away the beans…”
“Come on, lads, we’ve got to get sentries posted,” said Jackrum, approaching. “Sorted it all out, have you?”
“Yes, Sarge, Ozz thinks—” Shufti began.
“It was all a bit of mispacking, Sarge!” said Polly quickly, anxious to keep away from anything connected with missing ringlets. “Nothing to worry about! All sorted, Sarge. No problem. Nothing to worry anyone. Not…a…thing,