'Oh, really? That's what they wanted the Watch to think–'
'No, Sir Samuel. The important thing is what someone wanted you to think.'
'Really? Well, you've got that wrong. All the stuff with the glass and the sand on the floor, I saw through …that... straight... away...' His voice faded into silence. After a while Ahmed said, almost sympathetically, 'Yes, you did.'
'Damn.'
'Oh, in some ways you were right. Ossie was paid in dollars, originally. And then, later on, someone broke in, making sure they dumped most of the glass outside, and swapped the money. And distributed the sand. I must say that I thought the sand was going a bit too far, too. No–one would be that stupid. But they wanted to make sure it looked like a bungled attempt.'
'Who was it?' said Vimes. 'Oh, a small–time thief. Bob–Bob Hardyoyo. He didn't even know why he was doing it, except that someone was willing to pay him. I commend your city, commander. For enough money, you can find someone to do anything.'
'Someone must have paid him.'
'A man he met in a pub.' Vimes nodded glumly. It was amazing how many people were prepared to do business with a man they'd met in a pub. 'I can believe that,' he said. 'You see, if even the redoubtable Commander Vimes, who is known even to some senior Klatchian politicians as an unbendingly honest and thorough man, if somewhat lacking in intelligence... if even he protested that it was done by his own people – well, the world is watching. The world would soon find out. Starting a war over a rock? Well... that sort of thing makes countries uneasy. They've all got rocks off their coast. But starting a war because some foreign dog had killed a man on a mission of peace... that, I think, the world would understand.'
'Lacking in intelligence?' said Vimes. 'Oh, don't be too depressed, commander. That business with the fire at the embassy. That was sheer bravery.'
'It was bloody terror!'
'Well, the dividing line is narrow. That was one thing I hadn't expected.' In the rolling, clicking snooker table of Vimes's mind the black ball hit a pocket. 'You had expected the fire, then?'
'The building should have been almost empty–, Vimes moved. Ahmed was lifted off his feet and slammed against a pillar, with both of Vimes's hands around his neck. 'That woman was trapped in there!'
'It... was... necessary!' said Ahmed hoarsely. 'There... had... to be a... diversion! His... life was... in danger, I had to get him out! I did... not know... about the... woman until too late... I give you my word...' Through the red veil of anger Vimes became aware of a prickle in the region of his stomach. He glanced down at the knife that had appeared magically in the other man's hand. 'Listen to me . . ' hissed Ahmed. 'Prince Cadram ordered his brother's death... What better way to demonstrate the... perfidy of the sausage–eaters.. killing a peace–maker...'
'His own brother? You expect me to believe that?'
'Messages were sent to... the embassy in code...'
'To the old ambassador? I don't believe that!' Ahmed stood quite still for a moment. 'No, you really don't, do you?' he said. 'Be generous, Sir Samuel. Truly treat all men equally. Allow Klatchians the right to be scheming bastards, hmm? In fact the ambassador is just a pompous idiot. Ankh–Morpork has no monopoly on them. But his deputy sees the messages first. He is... a young man of ambition...' Vimes relaxed his grip. 'Him? I thought he was shifty as soon as I saw him!'
'I suspect that you thought he was Klatchian as soon as you saw him, but I take your point.'
'And you could read this code, could you?'
'Oh, come now. Don't you read Vetinari' work upside down when you're standing in front of his desk? Besides, I am Prince Cadram's policeman. ..'
'So he's your boss, right?'
'Who is your boss, Sir Samuel? When push comes to shove?' The two men stood locked together. Ahmed's breath wheezed. Vimes stood back. 'These messages... you've got them?'
'Oh, yes. With his seal on them.' Ahmed rubbed his neck. 'Good grief. The originals? I'd have thought they'd be under lock and key.'
l have a lot more room,' said Beti unfeelingly. 'C'mon, sarge, you know how to throw your weight around.'
'I ain't throwing my weight anywhere,' said Colon firmly. He was lying full length on the carpet, both hands gripping it as hard as possible. 'It's not natural, just a bit of broadloom between you and certain splash.' The Patrician looked down. 'We're not over water, sergeant.'
'I know what I meant, sir!'
'Can we slow down a bit?' said Beti. 'The breeze is invading my privacy, if you get my drift.' Lord Vetinari sighed. 'We're not going very fast as it is. I suspect this is a very old carpet.'
'There's a frayed bit here,' said Beti. 'Shut up,' said Colon. 'Look, I can poke my finger right through–'
'Shut up.'
'Notice how it kind of wobbles when you move?'
'Shut up.'