Night Watch - Terry Pratchett [71]
He pointed randomly at figures in the crowd. “You and you and you and you and you, too, lady,” he said. “You can help Fred and Waddy take this young man inside, okay? And you’re to stop with him, and we’ll leave the doors open, right? All you lot out here’ll know what’s going on. We’ve got no secrets here. Everyone understand?”
“Yeah, but you’re a copper—” a voice began.
Vimes darted forward and hauled a frightened young man out of the crowd by his shirt.
“Yeah, I am,” he said. “And see that lad over there? He’s a copper, too. His name’s Sam Vimes. He lives in Cockbill Street with his mum. And that’s Fred Colon, just got married, got a couple of rooms in Old Cobblers. And Exhibit C there is Waddy, everyone round here knows Waddy. Billy Wiglet there, he was born in this street. Have I asked you your name?”
“N-no…” the man mumbled.
“That’s ’cos I don’t care who you are,” said Vimes, letting the man go and looking round at the crowd. “Listen to me, all of you! My name’s John Keel! No one gets taken into this Watch House without me knowing why! You’re all here as witnesses! Those of you I pointed out, you come on inside to see fair play all round. Do the rest of you want to hang around to see what happens to Gappy? Fine, I’ll get Snouty to bring you out some cocoa. Or you can go home. It’s a cold night. You ought to be in your beds. I know I’d like to be in mine. And, yes, we know about Dolly Sisters and we don’t like it any more than you do. And we’ve heard about Dimwell Street and we don’t like that, either. And that’s all I’ve got to say tonight. Now…anyone who still wants to take a swing at a copper can step right up, if they want to. I’ve got my uniform off. We’ll have a go, here and now, fair and square, in front of everyone. Anyone?”
Something brushed his shoulder and clattered on the Watch House steps. Then there was the sound of slipping tiles from a roof on the other side, and a man fell off the roof and into the pool of light. There were gasps from the crowd, and one or two short screams.
“Looks like you got a volunteer,” said someone. There was the horrible nervous sniggering again. The crowd parted to let Vimes view the sudden arrival.
The man was dead. If he hadn’t been when he fell off the roof, he was after he’d hit the ground, because no neck normally looked like that. A crossbow had fallen down with him.
Vimes remembered the draft across his shoulder, and went back to the Watch House steps. It didn’t take long to find the arrow, which had broken into several pieces.
“Anyone know this man?” he said.
The crowd, even those members of it who hadn’t been able to get a good look at the fallen bowman, indicated definite ignorance.
Vimes went through the man’s pockets. Every single one was empty, which was all the evidence of identification he needed.
“Looks like it’s going to be a long night,” he said, signaling Colon to take this body inside, too. “I’ve got to get on with my work, ladies and gentlemen. If anyone wants to stay, and frankly I’ll be obliged if you do, I’ll send some lads out to build a fire. Thank you for your patience.”
He picked up his chain mail and breastplate and went back inside.
“What’re they doing?” he said to Sam, without turning around.
“Some of them are wandering off but most of ’em are standing around, Sarge,” said Sam, peering around the door. “Sarge, one of them shot at you!”
“Really? Who says the man on the roof was one of them? That’s an expensive bow. And he didn’t have anything in his pockets. Nothing. Not so much as a used hanky.”
“Very odd, Sarge,” said Sam loyally.
“Especially since I was expecting a piece of paper saying something like ‘I am definitely a member of a revolutionary cadre, trust me on this,’” said Vimes, looking carefully at the corpse.
“Yes, that’d tell us he was a revolutionary all right,” said Sam.
Vimes sighed and stared at the wall a moment. Then he said: “Anyone notice anything about his bow?”
“It’s the new Bolsover A7,” said Fred Colon. “Not a bad bow, Sarge. Not an assassin’s weapon, though.