Jingo

Leonard began to pat his pockets.

The watchmen realized that the man holding them up had paused to redesign his weapon and had given it to them to hold while he looked for a screwdriver. This was a thing that did not often happen.

Nobby silently took the rocket from Colon and pushed it into the tube.

“What's this bit here, mister?” he said.

Leonard glanced up briefly in between patting his pockets.

“Oh, that is the trigger,” he said. “Which, as you can see, rubs against the flint and—”

“Good.”

There was a short burst of flame and rather more black smoke.

“Oh, dear,” said Leonard.

The watchmen turned, like men dreading what they were about to see. The rocket had shot the length of the alley and through the window of a house.

“Ah… putting ‘This Way Up’ on the projectile would be an important safety point to bear in mind for the new design.” said Leonard. “Now, where's that notebook…?”

“I think we'd better leave,” said Colon, moving backwards. “Very fast.”

Inside the house there was an explosion of stars and balls to delight young and old but not the troll who had just opened the door.

“Ah, really?” said Leonard. “Well, if speed is required, I have this very interesting design for a two-wheeled—”

Acting on an unspoken agreement, the watchmen each put a hand under a shoulder, lifted him off the ground, and ran for it.

“Oh, dear,” said Leonard, as he was dragged backwards.

The watchmen dived into a side alley, and then jinked and dodged along several others with quiet professionalism. Finally they leaned Leonard against a wall and peered round the end of the alley.

“All clear,” said Nobby. “They went the other way.”

“Right,” said Colon. “Now, what was you doing? I mean, you might be a genius like I heard, Mister da Quirm, but when it comes to threatening people you're as clever as an inflatable dartboard.”

“I appear to have been a bit of a juggins, don't I?” Leonard agreed. “But I do implore you to come with me. I'm afraid I thought that as warriors you would be more inclined to understand force.”

“Well, yes, we're warriors,” said Sergeant Colon. “But—”

“'ere, have you got another one of these rockets?” said Nobby, hefting the tube onto his shoulder again. He had the special gleam in his eye that a small man gets when he's laid his hands on a big, big weapon.

“I may have,” said Leonard, and the gleam in his eye was the mad twinkle of the naturally innocent when they think they're being cunning. “Why don't we go and see? You see, I was told to fetch you by any means necessary.”

“Bribery sounds good,” said Nobby. He put his eye to the tube's sights and started making “whoosh” noises.

“Who told you to fetch us?” said Colon.

“Lord Vetinari.”

“The Patrician wants us?”

“Yes. He said you have special qualities and must come at once.”

“To the palace? I heard he'd done a runner.”

“Oh, no. To the, er… to the, er… docks…”

“Special qualities, eh?” said Colon.

“Er, sarge…” Nobby began.

“Now then, Nobby,” said Colon importantly. “It's about time we were given some recognition, you know that. Hexperienced officers are the backbone of the force. Seems to me,” he went on, “seems to me that this is a case of cometh the time, cometh the man.”

“When's he cometh?”

“I'm talking about us. Men with special qualities.”

Nobby nodded, but with a certain amount of reluctance. In many ways he was a much clearer thinker than his superior officer, and he was worrying about “special qualities”. Being picked for something because of your “special qualities” was tantamount to being volunteered. Anyway, what was so special about “special qualities”? Limpets had special qualities.

“Will we go undercover again?” said Colon.

Leonard blinked. “There… yes, I think I can say there is a strong under element involved. Yes, indeed.”

“Sarge—”

“You just be quiet, corporal.” Colon pulled Nobby closer. “Undercover means not getting stabbed and shot at, right?” he whispered. “And what's the most important thing a professional soldier wants not to happen to him?”

“Not getting stabbed and shot,” said Nobby automatically.

“Right! So let's be going, Mr Quirm! The call has come!”

“Well done!” said Leonard. “Tell me, sergeant, are you of a nautical persuasion?”

Colon saluted again. “Nossir! Happily married man, sir!”

“I meant, have you ploughed the ocean waves at all?”

Colon gave him a cunning look.

“Ah, you can't catch me with that one, sir,” he said. “Everyone knows the horses sink.”

Leonard paused for a moment and retuned his brain to Radio Colon.

“Have you, in the past, floated around, on the sea, in a boat, at all?”

“Me, sir? Not me, sir. It's the sight of the waves going up and down, sir.”

“Really?” said Leonard. “Well, happily, that will not be a problem.”

All right, start again…

Assembling facts, that's what it was about…

The world watched. Someone wanted the Watch to say that the assassination had been inspired by Klatch. Who?

Someone had also beheaded Snowy Slopes where he stood and left him deader than six buckets of fish bait.