The Fifth Elephant - Terry Pratchett [8]
“That’s right, Duncan. You done that.”
“An’ that haul at the gold vaults last week, I done that, too. It wasn’t Coalface and his boys.”
“No, it was you, wasn’t it, Duncan.”
“An’ that job at the goldsmith’s that everyone says Crunchie Ron done—”
“You done it, did you?”
“’S’right,” said Duncan.
“And it was you what stole fire from the gods, too, wasn’t it, Duncan?” said Nobby, grinning evilly under his wig.
“Yeah, that was me,” Duncan nodded. He sniffed. “I was a bit younger then, of course.” Duncan peered shortsightedly at Nobby Nobbs.
“Why’ve you got a dress on, Nobby?”
“It’s hush hush, Duncan.”
“Ah, right.” Duncan shifted uneasily. “You couldn’t spare me a bob or two, could you, Nobby? I ain’t eaten for two days.”
Small coins gleamed in the dark.
“Now push off,” said Corporal Nobbs.
“Thanks, Nobby. You got any unsolved crimes, you know where to find me.”
Duncan lurched off into the night.
Sergeant Angua appeared behind Nobby, buckling on her breastplate.
“Poor old devil,” she said.
“He was a good thief in his day,” said Nobby, taking a notebook out of his handbag and jotting down a few lines.
“Kind of you to help him,” said Angua.
“Well, I can get the money back out of petty cash,” said Nobby. “An’ now we know who did the bullion job, don’t we. That’ll be a feather in my cap with Mister Vimes.”
“Bonnet, Nobby.”
“What?”
“Your bonnet, Nobby. It’s got a rather fetching band of flowers around it.”
“Oh…yeah…”
“It’s not that I’m complaining,” said Angua, “but when we were assigned this job I thought it was me who was going to be the decoy and you who was going to be the backup, Nobby.”
“Yeah, but what with you bein’…” Nobby’s expression creased as he edged his way into unfamiliar linguistic territory, “…mor…phor…log…ic…ally gifted…”
“A werewolf, Nobby. I know the word.”
“Right…well, obviously, you’d be a lot better at lurkin’, an’…an’ obviously it’s not right, women havin’ to act as decoys in police work…”
Angua hesitated, as she so often did when attempting to talk to Nobby on difficult matters, and waved her hands in front of her as if trying to shape the invisible dough of her thoughts.
“It’s just that…I mean, people might…” she began. “I mean…well, you know what people call men who wear wigs and gowns, don’t you?”
“Yes, miss.”
“You do?”
“Yes, miss. Lawyers, miss.”
“Good. Yes. Good,” said Angua slowly. “Now try another one…”
“Er…actors, miss?”
Angua gave up. “You look good in taffeta, Nobby,” she said.
“You don’t think it makes me look too fat?”
Angua sniffed.
“Oh no…” she said, quietly.
“I thought I’d better put scent on for verysillymitude,” said Nobby quickly.
“What? Oh…” Angua shook her head, took another breath. “I can smell…some…thing…else…”
“That’s surprising, ’cos this stuff’s a bit on the pungent side and frankly I don’t think lily of the valley is supposed to smell like this…”
“…it’s not perfume…”
“…but the lavender stuff they had you could clean brass with…”
“Can you get back to the Chitterling station by yourself, Nobby?” said Angua. Despite her rising panic, she mentally added: After all, what could happen? I mean, really?
“Yes, miss.”
“There’s something I’d better…sort out…”
Angua hurried away, the new scent filling her nostrils. It would have to be powerful to combat Eau de Nobbs, and it was. Oh, it was.
Not here, she thought. Not now.
Not him.
The running man swung along a branch wet with snow, and managed at last to lower himself onto a branch belonging to the next tree. That took him a long way from the stream. How good was their sense of smell? Pretty damn good, he knew. But this good?
He’d gotten out of the stream onto another overhanging branch. If they followed the banks, and they’d be bright enough to do that, they’d surely never know he’d left the stream.
There was a howl, away to the left.
He headed right, into the gloom of the forest.
Vimes heard Carrot scrabble around in the gloom, and the sound of a key in the lock.
“I thought the Campaign