'Yes, sarge.' Vimes waited. 'Why, sarge? A bell's a bell.'
'Not that one,' said Vimes. That's three times the weight of the normal bell. They give it to rookies to see what they do. Did you complain?'
'No, sarge.'
'That's the way. Keep quiet, and pass it on to some other sucker when we get back. That's the coppers' way. Why did you come into the job, lad?'
'My mate Iffy joined last year. He said you got free food and a uniform and you could pick up the extra dollar here and there.'
'That'd be Iffy Scurrick stationed over in the Dolly Sisters house, then,' said Vimes. 'And you've been picking up the odd dollar, have you?' They walked in silence for a moment. Then Sam said: 'Have I got to give that dollar back, sarge?'
'Are you worth a dollar?' said Vimes. 'I gave it our mum, sarge.'
'Did you tell her how you got it?'
'I didn't want it!' Sam blurted out. 'But Corporal Quirke said-'
'Was he worth listening to?'
'Dunno, sarge.'
'You don't know? I bet your mum didn't bring you up to think like that,' said Vimes. No, she bloody well didn't, he thought. She'd tan your hide, copper or not, if she knew it was a dodgy dollar.
Did you get a receipt?'
'A what?'
'Your men hauled in six people who were staying out late and you handed them over to the Unmentionables,' said Vimes, with the calm that comes before a storm. 'Did they sign for them? Do you even know their names?'
'Orders is just to hand 'em over,' said Knock, trying a little defiance. 'Hand 'em over and come away.' Vimes filed that for future reference and said: 'Now, I didn't get taken there 'cos we had a bit of a ... misunderstanding. And as you can see it was a bigger misunderstanding than you thought, because I'm not down in the Tanty counting cockroaches, Knock. No, indeed.' He took a few steps forward. 'I am standing in front of you, Knock. Isn't that what I'm doing?'
'Yes, sarge,' Knock muttered, pale with fear and fury. 'Yes, sarge,' said Vimes. 'But there was another man in the cells, and he's gone too. All I want to know is: how much, and who to? I don't want any looks of cherubic innocence, I don't want any “don't know what you're talking about, sir”, I just want to know: how much, and who to?'
A cloud of red, resentful solidarity settled over the faces in front of him. But he didn't need telling. He could remember. Corporal Quirke always had a private income from bribes; he'd been like Nobby Nobbs without the latter's amiable incompetence. An efficient Nobby, in fact, and you could throw into the mix bullying and brown-nosing and a delight in small evils. Vimes's gaze fell on Quirke, and stayed there. 'I know you were on the wagon last night, corporal,' he said. 'You and Lance-Constable, er, Vimes, it says here.'
'Not worth worrying anyone if they look a decent sort,' Quirke said. And he 'd said: 'How can we tell they're a decent sort, corp?'
'Well, see how much they can afford.'
'You mean we let 'em go if they're rich?'
'Way of the world, lad, way of the world. No reason why we shouldn 't get our share, eh? Did you see his moneybag? Five dollars should do it. Four for me and one for you, 'cos you're learning. That's nearly three days' pay, it 'II cheer up your ol' mum no end, and where's the loser?'
'But suppose he's nicked the money, corp?'
'Suppose the moon was made of cheese? Would you like a slice?'
'I think it was five dollars, corporal,' said Vimes, and watched the man's lizard eyes flash towards the young lance-constable. 'No, the man in the cell talked,' lied Vimes. 'Told me I was an idiot not to buy my way out. So, Mister Quirke, it's like this. They're crying out for good men in the Day Watch, but if you don't stand too close to the light you might pass. Get along there right now!'
'Everybody does it!' Quirke burst out. 'It's perksl'
'Everybody?' said Vimes. He looked around at the squad. 'Anyone else here take bribes?' His glare ran from face to face, causing most of the squad to do an immediate impression of the Floorboard and Ceiling Inspectors Synchronized Observation Team. Only three members met his gaze. There was Lance-Corporal Colon, who could be a little slow. There was a certain lance-constable, whose face was a mask of terror. And there was a dark- haired, round-faced constable who seemed to be puzzled, as if he was trying to remember something, but who nevertheless stared back with the firm steady gaze of the true liar. 'Apparently not,' said Vimes. Quirke's finger shot out and vibrated in the direction of the young Sam Vimes. 'He shared it! He shared it!' he said. 'You ask him!'
Vimes felt the shock run round the squad. Quirke had just committed suicide. You hung together against officers, fair enough, but when the jig was up you did not Drop Someone In The Cacky. They'd laugh at the idea of a watchman's honour, but it did exist in a blackened, twisty way. You Did Not Drop Your Mates In The Cacky. And especially you did not do it to a wet-behind-the-ears rookie who wouldn't know any better. Vimes turned, for the first time, to the young man he'd been avoiding. Gods, was I ever that skinny? he thought. Did I ever have that much Adam's apple? Did I really try to polish rust? The young man's eyes were almost back in his head, only the whites showing. 'Lance-Constable Vimes, isn't it?' he said quietly. 'Yessir!' said Sam hoarsely. 'At ease, lance-constable. Did you in fact take a share of the bribe?'
'Yessir! A dollar, sir!'