Guards! Guards! (Discworld 8)

This was no time for half measures. He was a captain, godsdammit. An officer. Things like this didn't present a problem for an officer. Officers had a tried and tested way of solving problems like this. It was called a sergeant.

“Sergeant Colon!” he snapped, his mind still buzzing with universal policemanhood, “shoot the lock off!”

The sergeant hesitated. “What, sir? With a bow and arrow, sir?”

“I mean-” Vimes hesitated. “I mean, open these gates!”

“Sir!” Colon saluted. He glared at the gates for a moment. “Right!” he barked. “Lance-constable Carrot, one stepa forwarda, take! Lance-constable Carrot, inna youra owna timer! Open these gatesa!”

“Yes, sir!”

Carrot stepped forward, saluted, folded an enormous hand into a fist and rapped gently on the woodwork.

“Open up,” he said, “in the name of the Law!”

There was some whispering on the other side of the gates, and eventually a small hatch halfway up the door slid open a fraction and a voice said, “Why?”

“Because if you don't it will be Impeding an Officer of the Watch in the Execution of his Duty, which is punishable by a fine of not less than thirty dollars, one month's imprisonment, or being remanded in custody for social inquiry reports and half an hour with a red-hot poker,” said Carrot.

There was some more muffled whispering, the sound of bolts being drawn, and then the gates opened about halfway.

There was no-one visible on the other side.

Vimes put a finger to his lips. He motioned Carrot towards one gate and dragged Nobby and Colon to the other.

“Push,” he whispered. They pushed, hard. There was a sudden eruption of pained cursing from behind the woodwork.

“Run!” shouted Colon.

“No!” shouted Vimes. He walked around the gate. Four semi-crushed palace guards glowered at him.

“No,” he said. “No more running. I want these men arrested.”

“You wouldn't dare,” said one of the men. Vimes peered at him.

“Clarence, isn't it?” he said. “With a C. Well, Clarence with a C, watch my lips. Either you can be charged with Aiding and Abetting or-” he leaned closer, and glanced meaningfully at Carrot-“with an axe.”

“Swivel on that one, doggybag!” added Nobby, jumping from one foot to the other in vicious excitement.

Clarence's little piggy eyes glared at the looming bulk that was Carrot, and then at Vimes's face. There was absolutely no mercy there. He appeared to reach a reluctant decision.

“Jolly good,” said Vimes. “Lock them in the gatehouse, Sergeant.”

Colon drew his bow and squared his shoulders. “You heard the Man,” he rasped. “One false move and you're . . . you're-” he took a desperate stab at it-“you're Home Economics!”

“Yeah! Slam 'em up in the banger!” shouted Nobby. If worms could turn, Nobby was revolving at generating speeds. “Doucheballs!” he sneered, at their retreating backs.

“Aiding and Abetting what, Captain?” said Carrot, as the weaponless guards trooped away. “You have to aid and abet something.”

“I think in this case it will just be generalised abetting,” said Vimes. “Persistent and reckless abetment.”

“Yeah,” said Nobby. “Can't stand abettors. Slime-breaths!”

Colon handed Captain Vimes the guardhouse key. “It's not very secure in there, Captain,” he said. “They'll be able to break out eventually.”

“I hope so,” said Vimes, “because the very first drain we come to, you're going to drop the key down it. Everyone here? Right. Follow me.”

...