"The A standing for - ?"Vimes said, taking his eyes off the board for a moment.
"Just A, your grace," said A. E. Pessimal patiently. "A. E. Pessimal." "You mean you weren"t named, you were initialled?" "Just so, your grace," said the little man.
"What do your friends call you?" A. E. Pessimal looked as though there was one major assumption in that sentence that he did not understand, so Vimes took a small amount of pity on him. "Well, Sergeant Littlebottom here will look after you," he said with fake joviality. "Find Mr A. E. Pessimal an office somewhere, sergeant, and let him see any paperwork he requires: As much as possible, Vimes thought. Bury him in the stuff, if it keeps him away from me.
"Thank you, your grace," said A. E. Pessimal. "I shall need to interview some officers, too."
"Why?" said Vimes.
"To ensure that my report is comprehensive, your grace," said Mr A. E. Pessimal calmly.
"I can tell you anything you need to know," said Vimes.
"Yes, your grace, but that is not how an inquiry works. I must act
completely independently. Quis custodiet ipsos custodes? your grace." "I know that one," said Vimes. "Who watches the watchmen? Me, Mr Pessimal."
"Ah, but who watches you, your grace?" said the inspector, with a brief smile.
"I do that, too. All the time," said Vimes. "Believe me."
"Quite so, your grace. Nevertheless, I must represent the public
interest here. I shall try not to be obtrusive."
"Very good of you, Mr Pessimal," said Vimes, giving up. He hadn"t
realized he"d been upsetting Vetinari so much lately. This felt like one of his games. "All right. Enjoy your hopefully brief stay with us. Do excuse me, this is a busy morning, what with the damn Koom Valley thing and everything. Come in, Fred!"
That was a trick he"d learned from Vetinari. It was hard for a visitor to hang on when their replacement was in the room. Besides, Fred sweated a lot in this hot weather; he was a champion sweater. And in all these years he"d never worked out that when you stood outside the office door, the long floorboard seesawed slightly on the joist and rose just where Vimes could notice it.
The piece of floorboard settled again, and the door opened.
"Don"t know how you do it, Mister Vimes!" said Sergeant Colon cheerfully. "I was just about to knock!"
After you"d had a decent earful, thought Vimes. He was pleased to see A. E. Pessimal"s nose wrinkle, though.
"What"s up, Fred?" he said. "Oh, don"t worry, Mr Pessimal was just leaving. Carry on, Sergeant Littlebottom. Good morning, Mr Pessimal."
Fred Colon removed his helmet as soon as the inspector had been ushered away by Cheery, and wiped his forehead.
"It"s heating up out there again," he said. "We"re in for thunderstorms, I reckon."
"Yes, Fred. And you wanted what, exactly?" said Vimes, contriving to indicate that while Fred was always welcome, just now was not the best of times.
"Er ... something big"s going down on the street, sir," said Fred earnestly, in the manner of one who had memorized the phrase.
Vimes sighed. "Fred, do you mean something"s happening?"
"Yes, sir. It"s the dwarfs, sir. I mean the lads here. It"s got worse. They keep going into huddles. Everywhere you look, sir, there"s huddlin" goin" on. Only they stops as soon as anyone else comes close. Even the sergeants. They stops and gives you a look, sir. And that"s makin" the trolls edgy, as you might expect.
"We"re not going to have Koom Valley replayed in this nick, Fred," said Vimes. "I know the city"s full of it right now, what with the anniversary coming up, but I"ll drop like a ton of rectangular building things on any copper who tries a bit of historical re-creation in the locker room. He"ll be out on his arse before he knows it. Make sure everyone understands that."
"Yessir. But I ain"t talking about all that stuff, sir. We all know about that," said Fred Colon. "This is something different, fresh today. It feels bad, sir, makes my neck tingle. The dwarfs know something. Something they ain"t sayin"."
Vimes hesitated. Fred Colon was not the greatest gift to policing. He was slow, stolid and not very imaginative. But he"d plodded his way around the streets for so long that he"d left a groove and somewhere inside that stupid fat head was something very smart, which sniffed the wind and heard the buzz and read the writing on the wall, admittedly doing the last bit with its lips moving.
"Probably it"s just that damn Hamcrusher who has got them stirred up again, Fred," he said.