“And the name of the boat?” said Vimes carefully.
“Oh, everybody knows it! It’s the biggest on the river. Everybody knows the Wonderful Fanny!”
Internal monologues can play themselves out quite fast, and Vimes’s went: Let me think. Ah yes, almost certainly there was a captain who had a wife who was probably named Francesca at birth, but that’s too much of a mouthful, and he named his boat after her because he loved her very much. And there you have it. There is no need to dwell on the subject, because there are only so many words, letters and syllables available to the tongue, and if you can’t come to terms with that then you might as well never get out of bed. And so, having got his brain sorted out, he released the clamps on his silly-embarrassed-face reflex and said, “Thank you for your cooperation, Ted, but if you had told us earlier we might have been able to catch the damn boat!”
Flutter looked at him in astonishment. “Catch the Fanny? Bless you, sir, a man with one leg could do that! She’s a bulk carrier, not a streaker! Even going all night she won’t have got much past Fender’s Bend by now. There are bends all the way, you see? I reckon you never get more than half a mile without a bend! And it’s full of rocks, too. Seriously, you have to zigzag so much on Old Treachery that you’re often crossing your own wake.”
Vimes nodded at this. “One last thing, Ted. Remind me again…What exactly does Mr. Stratford look like?”
“Oh, you know the typ
e, sir, sort of average. Dunno how old he is. Maybe twenty-five. Maybe twenty. Sort of mousy hair. No scars that show, amazingly.” Ted looked embarrassed at this paucity of information and shrugged. “Sort of average height, sir.” He scrabbled for details and gave up. “To tell you the truth, he sort of looks like everyone else, sir, that is until he gets angry”—Ted’s face lit up—“and that, sir, is when he looks like Stratford.”
Willikins was sitting on the bench under the chestnut tree with his hands resting peacefully on his knees. He was good at it. He had a talent for resting that had escaped Vimes. It must be a servant thing, Vimes thought: if you don’t have anything to do, don’t do anything. And right now he could do with a rest. Maybe evidence was going downstream even as he stood there, but by the sound of it at a speed that could almost be overtaken on foot. Regrettably Sybil was right. At his age you had to be sensible. You sometimes had to catch your breath, while you still had some. He sat down beside the man, and said, “An interesting day, Willikins.”
“Indeed, yes, commander, and may I say that young Constable Upshot handled his responsibilities with great aplomb. You have a talent for inspiring people, sir, if I may say so.”
There was silence for a while, and then Vimes said, “Well, of course, we were helped by the fact that some bloody fool actually let an arrow go! You could see them thinking about what might happen if you’re one of the gang that killed a dear old lady. That’s a kind of trouble you don’t get out of easily. That opened them up! And it was obviously a real stroke of luck for us,” Vimes added, without turning his head. He let the silence continue as the storm raged in the distance, while, nearby, whatever it was that was chirruping in the bushes carried on doing so in the warm, sultry afternoon.
“It puzzles me, though,” he went on, as if a thought had only just crossed his mind. “If it was someone in the front of the crowd who had loosed his crossbow then surely I would have seen it, and if it was one toward the back then he would have to have been clever and skilful enough to sight through maybe a very narrow space. That would be very clever shooting, Willikins.”
Willikins was still staring placidly ahead. Vimes’s sideways glance spotted no hint of moisture on his brow. Then the gentleman’s gentleman said, “I expect these country lads excel at trick shooting, commander.”
Vimes slapped him on the back and laughed. “Well, that’s the funny thing, don’t you think? I mean, did you see their gear? It was low-grade stuff, in my opinion, not well maintained, the kind of stuff that granddad brought back from some war, whereas that arrow, I recognized that evil little package as a custom-made bolt for the Burleigh and Stronginthearm Piecemaker Mark IX, you remember?”
“I am afraid you will have to refresh my memory, commander.”
Vimes was beginning to enjoy himself and said, “Oh, you must! Only three of them were made, and two of them are still under wizard-assisted lock and key in the company vaults and the other—surely you remember this?—is locked safely in that little vault that we made in the cellar in Scoone Avenue last year? You and I poured concrete while Sybil and the lad were out, and rubbed dirt all over the floor so that you had to know it was there in order to find it. It’s a hanging matter for anyone to be found with one of them, according to Vetinari, and the Assassins’ Guild told the Times that hanging would be a picnic compared with what would happen to anyone they found in possession of one of those. I mean, think about it: can’t hardly tell it’s a crossbow. Silent, folds up and fits in a pocket in an instant, easily concealed and deadly in the hands of a skilled man, such as you or I.” Vimes laughed again. “Don’t be surprised, Willikins, I recall your prowess with even a standard military bow during the war. Heavens know what someone like you could manage with the damn Piecemaker. I just wonder how one turned up out here in the country. After all, Feeney confiscated all the weapons he found, but maybe one of those chaps had hidden it in his boot. What do you think?”
Willikins cleared his throat. “Well, commander, if I may speak freely, I might surmise that there are many workers at Burleigh and Stronginthearm, which is one factor, and, of course, the directors of the most famous weapons producer on the Plains might also have decided to hide away a few souvenirs before the range was banned, and who knows where they might have got to. I can think of no other explanation.”
“Well, of course you may be right,” said Vimes. “And while it’s a terrifying thought that one of these things might be out on the streets somewhere, I must admit that the idiot who used it really helped us out of a difficult situation.” He paused for a while and then said, “Have you had a pay rise lately, Willikins?”
“I am entirely satisfied with my remuneration, commander.”
“It is entirely deserved, but to be on the safe side, I’d like you, as soon as we are back home, to check in the cellar just in case, will you? Because obviously, if there are more of those bloody things out there, I want to make certain that I’ve still got one too.” And as Willikins turned away Vimes continued, “Oh, and Willikins, it’s a damn good job for you that Feeney cannot put two and two together.”
Was that the faintest sigh of relief? Surely not. “I will expedite that as soon as we enter the building, commander, and I am certain that should you yourself want to go down there some time later to make a personal check, you will find it resting where it has always been.”
“I’m sure I shall, Willikins; but I wonder if you could solve a problem for me? I have to catch the Wonderful Fanny.”
He added hurriedly, “Which is a boat, of course.”
“Yes, sir, I am aware of the vessel in question. Remember that I’d already been here for some time before you and her ladyship arrived, and I happened to be near the river when she went upstream. I recall the people pointed her out to me. I was given to understand that she was going up to Overhang to load up, probably with iron ore brought down from the dwarf mine, which rather surprised me, given that normally they smelt directly at their mines and export the bar-stock, this being a more economical method, sir.”
“Fascinating,” said Vimes, “but I think that however slow it goes, I ought to get after her.”
Feeney was just emerging from the cottage.
“I’ve heard about the…the boat, lad. We should get going while it’s still light.”
Feeney actually saluted. “Yes, I have that in hand, sir, but what about my prisoner? I mean, my old mum could give him his meals and empty his bucket for him, won’t be the first time she’s had to do that sort of thing, but I don’t like leaving her by herself, right now, if you get my thinking?”
Vimes nodded. Back home he only had to snap his fingers for a watchman to become immediately available, but now…Well, he had no choice. “Willikins!”
“Yes, commander?”
“Willikins, against my better judgement and I dare say yours, I hereby appoint you to the rank of Special Constable and I command you to take the prisoner back to the Hall and keep him under lock and key there. Even a bloody army would be mad to attack the Hall with Sybil in it. But just in case, Willikins, I can think of no man better suited to guard my family.”