Discworld 29 - Night Watch by Pratchett Terry

Author:Pratchett, Terry [Terry, Pratchett,]
Format: epub, mobi, azw3
Publisher: Acrobat Distiller 7.0.5 (Windows)
Published: 2010-06-21T04:00:00+00:00

'Okay, friend. Anything you want to tell us? Your name? No? Well, it's like this. Right now, we don't care a whole lot if you talk or not There was a loud pop, a hiss and then ... a scream, an explosion of agony. After it had died away the trembling Ferret heard someone say, 'Quick, get the next one, before the captain catches us.' He cringed back as two watchmen rushed into the next cell, dragged out the struggling prisoner and hustled him into the darkness. 'All right. One chance. Are you going to talk? Yes? No? Too late!' Once again the pop, once again the hiss, once again the scream. It was louder and longer this time, and ended in a kind of bubbling sound. Ferret crouched against the wall, fingers in his mouth. Around the corner, sitting in the light of one lantern, Colon nudged Vimes, wrinkled his nose and pointed down. There was a gully that ran between all the cells, as a primitive sop to hygiene. Now a thin trickle was inching its way along it. Ferret was nervous. Gotcha, thought Vimes. But a good imagination needs a little more time. He leaned forward, and the other two moved closer expectantly. 'So,' he said in a low whisper, 'have you boys had your holidays yet?' After a few minutes of very small talk he stood up, strode round to the last occupied cell, unlocked the door, and grabbed Ferret, who was trying to squeeze into a corner. 'No! Please! I'll tell you whatever you want to know!' the man yelled. 'Really?' said Vimes. 'What's the orbital velocity of the moon?' 'What?' 'Oh, you'd like something simpler?' said Vimes, dragging the man out of the cell. 'Fred! Waddy! He wants to talk! Bring a notebook!' It took half an hour. Fred Colon wasn't a fast writer. And when the painful sound of his efforts concluded with the stab of his last full stop, Vimes said: 'Okay, sir. And now you write down at the end: I, Gerald Leastways, currently staying at the Young Men's Pagan Association, am making this statement of my own free will and not under duress. And then you sign it. Or else. Got it?' 'Yes, sir.' The initials GL had been inscribed on the dagger. Vimes believed them. He'd met plenty of Leastwayses in his career, and they tended to spill their guts at the mere thought of spilling their guts. And when they did, you got everything. Anyone who had seen the ginger beer trick used on someone else would confess to anything.

'Well, now,' he said cheerfully, standing up. Thank you for your co- operation. Want a lift to Cable Street?' Ferret's expression, if not his mouth, said 'huh?' 'We've got to drop off your friends,' Vimes went on, raising his voice slightly. Todzy and Muffer. We'll drop the dead one off at the mortuary. Just a bit of paperwork for you.' He nodded at Colon. 'One copy of your helpful statement.

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