More Tales from the Guilds Ch. 07

Then, in a stroke of inventiveness, Accumulata has Avariso inhumed. The price was higher than most lawsuits but once it was complete, the reshuffling of The Money led to increased income for the rest of us. Ingenious! However, the Assassins are a wretchedly expensive lot so I am simply continuing a winning course while reducing the cost. What can go wrong?"

Capricia's eyes widened. "Must you ask? Trying to frame the Assassins' Guild? Why, they might well . . .?"

"Oh, piffle, Capricia. I had my 'agent' leave a receipt on her nightgown just like the one's the Guild uses. This isn't really a frame-up. Everyone will think it was just another contract. No one will know the difference. And my 'agent' will never disclose anything. I made sure of that."

"Until the Guild notices that it didn't get Guild tax! You're right, Marko, it isn't a frame-up, it's fraud! And it's defrauding the second most dangerous group on the Disc. Downey, himself, will likely take out a contract on you and will probably make it 'with extreme prejudice'. Why not just make Unseen University angry with you? That could be even more sporting! And since I don't want to be caught in the crossfire, I shall spend the remainder of the season at our villa in Quirm. Take care of yourself—dear."

She lifted her nose and swept out of the room. Moments later Marko Lavish heard his wife bawling for the servants. He shook his head. Some people had no drive, no ambition. Sad, really.

*****

Bumbling Stupídlee poured over the wills for hours. He knew the history of the Lavish family. A distant cousin of his, to the rest of the family's disgust, had gone so far as to marry one! ("We don't talk about her" had been the result.) A family of 'merchant adventurers' (read: pirates, slave traders and dealers in illegal drugs) had made a large enough fortune that they could move their assets into a more legal form of reducing people to destitution, i.e. banking. Somewhere in the past either one forceful personality or a handful of clear thinkers had realized that given the familial personality, handing money out from one generation to another was going to be a very good way for it all to disappear into (horrors!) general circulation. So the Lavish Family Trust had been established to constantly accrue more wealth which could then be carefully parceled out to the living members.

Because the Trust existed, it was nearly impossible for any particular branch to have more than any other. The last couple of generations had failed to realize this and the increasing wealth of the legal community was the result. But finally the idea of assassination had dawned, first to Accumulata and then to the rest. But Nil Mortifi Sine Lucre! Members of the Assassins' Guild were no mere thugs who killed people for money, they were civilized and genteel men and women who killed people for a great deal of money. Lawyers were expensive but might not succeed. Assassins might be more expensive but were very effective.

Thus it seemed that some Lavish, somewhere, had decided that pruning the family tree was a good idea—but preferred to get it done on a budget. What could he/she have been thinking? Assassins were, in the main, drawn from the Disc's aristocracy and, while suave and debonair, they carried the pride of privilege normal to their class. Having some plebian attempt to move in on their turf was not going to go over well. Probably turning the results over to Captain Carrot might not be the best of ideas. At the very least a copy should be dispatched to Lord Downey's personal attention. Bumbling continued the tedious process of untangling the wills with a patience that first terrified and then bored. It was the warfare of a clerk, following the financial lines that lead first one way, then another and then back on themselves.

I wonder, he thought, if Inspector Pessimal is back in town . . .

*****

Inspector Pessimal's office was next door to Commander Vimes' (with connecting door) and across the hall from the office that Captains Angua and Carrot shared. Since he normally worked by himself, because no one else understood what he did, an additional chair had to be borrowed. Now he and the very junior law clerk sat across from each other with the pile of wills and Stupídlee's notes between them.

The Inspector spent half an hour going over the young man's work and then leaned back and tapped his chin with his pencil in a thoughtful, ruminative way.

"The jurisdictional questions could be challenging. The murder was committed here in Ankh-Morpork but the individual who solicited the crime is in Genua. Additionally, even though the primary crime was homicide, there is also the question of trying to push the act off on the Assassins' Guild, i.e. practicing Assassination without a license. On top of all this, there is the question of the legally due Guild Tax. If you are going to claim to act in the name of the Guild, you have to abide by their rules and that means, naturally, paying them half your fee. Failure to do so is fraud."

"That's one of the reasons I brought this to you," Bumbling explained, "I wasn't sure whether this would be settled in the Patrician's court or by one of his magistrates or whether it would be settled diplomatically."

"Or whether it might be—shall we say—personal. Lord Downey has already expressed his displeasure to His Grace and while we have had no communication from the Palace, His Lordship is Provost of Assassins, after all. You can be sure he is following this closely."

Stupídlee nodded. "He follows everything closely. That's why, Mr. Morcombe says, he's still Patrician after this many years. So, Inspector, what do you recommend I do now?"

"Mr. Morcombe's advice that you turn it over to Captain Carrot is sound. You have already traced the line of investigation to Genua. His Lordship or Lord Downey can deal with that end of it. Who the particular perpetrator was will be up to the Watch to discover. Thank-you for your assistance, Mr. Stupídlee. This was a well-done investigation. Should you ever tire of the legal profession, I believe a position as Sub-inspector on the Watch might open to you."

*****

Igor loved having an audience and Andrei was fascinated with the inner workings of the Forensics Lab so it was with great difficulty (and after a long while) that Angua managed to extricate herself and her brother from the discussion. They'd just reached the door when Carrot knocked and let himself in to announce what had happened. In an instant the mood changed.

Igor's strange but cheerful countenance went blank. He turned and got down his crime scene bag and slung it over his shoulder. Angua looked grim. "I was supposed to be off for two weeks," she growled, "but it looks like I need to go back on duty."

She was about to apologize to her brother when he grinned unpleasantly and reached into his pocket. Pulling out a spiked dog collar he asked, "Would another nose help?"

Angua looked at Carrot. "I believe it might," he responded, "and this would give us a chance to further confuse the issue of just which Watch officer is the werewolf. What do you think, Angua? He's your brother."

"You really want to do this, Andrei?" she asked.

"Oh, heck yes," he replied with a grin, "I think I'm long overdue for a change from sheep."

*****

The Lavish townhouse was surrounded by Ankh-Morpork's usual crowd of professional grade gawkers. However a 'barricade' of yellow tape, augmented by Constables Dorfl and Pump6 kept them well away from the scene. The Watchmen stood at parade rest with their eyes in the 'banked forge' mode of golems at the ready but snapped to attention and saluted as both captains, the Igor and a very sharp-looking K9 auxiliary trudged through the snow toward them.

Captain Carrot returned the salute. "Are the hospital Igors still inside?" he asked.

"Yes Captain, They Are," Dorfl replied, "Once The Igors Determined That Ms. Lavish Could Not Be Revived, They Summoned The Watch As Per The Patrician's Orders. When We Arrived, We Secured The Premises According To Watch Procedures. The Igors Will Not Begin Harvesting Spare Parts Until Your Onsite Investigation Is Complete. They Are Rather Impatient To Get Started, Captain."

Carrot nodded approvingly. "Well done, Constables. Carry on."

The Watch officers entered the house to find a very upset butler, cook and maids.

"Oh, Captain, we have heard that the Igors will cut Ms. Lavish up and recycle her!"

"Now Mr. Tynwissle, that's an exaggeration. Because there is always a severe organ shortage at Lady Sybil Free Hospital, they will carefully remove those bits that will do others the most good and sew her neatly back up for burial. And, because you all are the closest she had to family, the Igors will give you each a voucher for one free reattachment should any of you have a severe accident. Now if each of you will give me a statement of the night of the crime, please, while Captain Angua and Constable Igor inspect the scene of the tragedy? Let's start with Miss b'Labored, since she was first on the scene."

Upstairs in the master bedroom Igor and Angua met the two hospital Igors, strangely built men in odd shaped white coats. The Watch Igor nodded professionally to the two and then opening his crime scene bag. Withdrawing a large magnifying glass he proceeded to examine the gaping wound across Deviousnesse's throat. He looked this way and that and then turned to the others.

"Whoever did thith, wath no Aththaththin! They make a profeththional point of neatnethth. None of them would ever uthe tho crude a weapon ath the one that made thith wound unleth the contract called for 'exthreme prejudith'."

While this was going on, Angua flared her nostrils and swung her head from side to side and then growled deep in her throat. "Andy Shank!" she muttered.

"You know him?" Andrei whined as he followed a scent trail out the door, down the hall and to an open window in an upstairs sitting room. There he Changed.

"Yes, dammit," Angua muttered with a curse, "only too well. He's a bastard who doesn't need an excuse; he doesn't have friends so much as followers, if by follower you mean someone you keep on the right side of in case he knifes you. He's a big 'face' in Foot-the-Ball and a psychopathic maniac with mood swings you wouldn't believe. Commander Vimes has been looking for an excuse to lock him in the deepest hole the Tanty has but this might be even better. If we can make a case, he'll hang for this!"

Andrei frowned. "The scent trail is strong here but it's been close to twenty-four hours. Down in the streets he could be hard to track."

"He could be impossible to track," Angua said bitterly, "because he lives in the Shades. The trail will get completely lost in the cross trails and alleyways. Let's go back and see if Igor can help."

"Captain," Igor looked up from the notes he was taking, "could Andrei check around the bed for any thign of gravel or bitths of mud that might give uth an idea of where thith mithcreant came from? My ethtimathion is that whoever it wath, uthed a thort thword. Poththibly thomthing along the lineth of a thmall cutlethth."

Angua nodded and immediately headed back down the hall after Igor handed her a couple of paper bags and a pair of tweezers. Then she followed her brother.

"Two werewolveth on the Watcth?" one of the Hospital Igors exclaimed, "Impreththive. Crime ith going to get highly unprofitable in the Thity—excepth for the Thieveth Guild, of courthe."

*****

In the Oblong Office a day or so later, Commander Vimes and Lord Downey were conversing quietly with Vetinari.

"So, given both Captain Angua's nose, (augmented by her brother's) and Igor's forensic examination, there is probable cause to believe that Andy Shank was the murderer. Frankly, I find this very strange. Andy is vicious and violent but he usually lacks the concentration for premeditated murder. He must have been paid unusually well."

"Which begs the question of why the deed was shunted out to a common thug," Lord Downey mused, "One would think that taking out a contract would have not been that much more expensive."

Vetinari shook his head and picked up a fat file. " 'Unusually well' by Shades standards in no way equals what the Guild would charge. Marko Lavish is trying to increase his income with as little outlay as possible. It has finally dawned on him that trying to increase his share of The Money through legal action is ineffective and he admires the directness that Accumulata displayed in removing Avariso from the chain of beneficiaries. What he missed in the process is 'you get what you pay for'. One of the things you get from paying Guild prices is immunity from prosecution. It would seem that he thinks hiring a maniac in the city will somehow keep both the Watch and the Guild off his tail. Foolish man. Do we have an expected date of apprehension, Vimes?"

Vimes pulled out his cigar case, looked at it and shook his head before returning it to an inside pocket. "Angua and her brother followed the blood trail as far as they could. And that, it turned out, led to the murder weapon. Just as Igor predicted, it was a short cutlass, Andy's favorite sidearm. Andrei stayed on guard over it while Angua went back to summon Pump6. He's one of the constables whose chem has been augmented with the ability to read karmic signatures. He's tracking Andy down as we speak."

Vetinari steepled his fingers in front of his face and smiled that smile that made people who saw it think they'd barely escaped with their lives. "And Marko Lavish?"

"On Miss Alice Band's recommendation," Lord Downey's voice was like ice water, "I have dispatched Jocasta Wiggs via Premier Class rail to Genua. There she will connect with the Mano Rosso at their guild house and meet, according to the confirming clacks, with one Eulalie Macarengo. The two of them will coordinate the inhumation. I have every confidence in their success."

Vetinari's smile broadened. "Sir Joshua Lavish certainly had an eye for the ladies and Miss Wiggs is an eyeful on her own. Which of them turns out to be the bait and which the snap will make interesting telling when she returns. Do insure that the account is entered in the library archives?"

"Of course, Provost."

*****

"What am I gonna do?" Andy Shank's fear and rage fought for dominance.

"Wall, if yer hadn' left yer fool cutlass whar it could be foun', yer wouldn' be in this pickle."

"A little late for that now, Dad, what am I gonna do?"

"Yer gonna have t'leave th'city, boy. Yer need t' get somewhar far 'way. 4X or t'Aurient'd be the best plan." Old Man Shank wasn't normally up to thinking either much or very hard. Most of the time he used his head as a weapon on the football pitch but the danger that his son was the prime suspect in a hanging offense caused what remained of his drink-sodden brain to begin to, if not sparkle in brilliance, at least glow faintly in the dark.

"Y'mean I should use the rest of the money t'buy passage on a ship?"

"Sumpin like that. If'n yer hang around Ankh-Morpork, y'll likely hang in one place."

"Well, just har, har, har, Dad. Okay. I'll go to 4X. That golem copper don't float so he'll never find me there."

The next morning Andy boarded the Barmy Sheila and left on the outgoing tide. That afternoon, Pump6 walked out the quay, dropped off the end and headed across the ocean floor towards 4X.

*****

Jocasta Wiggs checked the address on the note she'd been given. Yes, this was the place, the Guild House of the Mano Rosso. She straightened her back, lifted her aristocratic chin and raised the door knocker. Before she could tap it a few times, the door opened to reveal a dark-skinned young woman.

"Jocasta Wiggs, I presume?"

"Yes. And you would be Eulalie Macarengo?"

"I would. Won't you come in? You're expected."

Over cups of the bitter, black, chicory-laced coffee Genua is renowned for, the two young women chatted.

"Even though Genua is rich," Eulalie explained, "it's rather smaller than Ankh-Morpork and so really can't support the array of Guilds y'all have down there. So the Mano Rosso combines the functions of the Thieves, the Assassins and the Seamstresses under one roof. This means that all inhumations must be under license."

"So I was advised," said Jocasta, taking another sip, "I was likewise advised that this diplomatic matter was arranged between the Mano and the Guild via clacks between Lord Downey and Capo Rioccolto for favors to be accorded at some future date."

"That's my understanding, as well. This must be something very important."

Jocasta could feel the enhanced caffeine spreading out through her bloodstream. Colors were getting brighter and scents more intense. I may have to bring back a bag of this stuff she thought to herself, it might give you just the edge you need when out on Commission.

"More than important, I should think. According to my instructions from Lord Downey, this has passed 'important' to become 'personal'. He considers the murder of Ms. Lavish, with its forged receipt and failure to pay Guild Tax, as an affront. He even specified 'with extreme prejudice' and I don't think that's been on a commission in my lifetime."

Eulalie coughed on her coffee and then gasped, "Extreme prejudice? Inhume with an ax? His lordship is angry. I presume you brought your own?"

Jocasta nodded silently. That was, she suspected, why the commission had been handed to her. While still she was still a student, her tutor, Miss Alice Band, had decided that she, Jocasta, had become overconfident. As discipline, she'd been sent to reconnoiter Commander Vimes' residence. No actual attempt to inhume was to be made, just find a location where one could be done at some future time. The result had been humiliating. Sir Samuel had an exceptional mind and talent for traps and he didn't play by the rules. He played to win! Jocasta had ended up in the cesspit first and then the ornamental pond. It had been a turning point in her education. No more delicate, slender stilettos or subtle poisons for her. From now on, when she inhumed a client, they would stay inhumed!

"Well then," Eulalie concluded, "Capo Rioccolto bids you welcome to spend the night in the guild house guest rooms for as long as you need to accomplish the commission. Have you had dinner?"

*****

That evening, Jocasta unrolled a map of Genu and held down one end with the throwing ax and the other with Teachings of Brother Brutha, a volume to be found in every nightstand in every hostelry on the Disc. She oriented it so that it corresponded to the view she could see out the dormer window. Eulalie had been surprised when Jocasta asked for a room so high in the Guild House but the Assassin had her reasons. Now she could see possible routes to Chateau d'Lavish that led over the rooftops, the catwalks that crossed streets and the covered bridges that spanned the many canals.

Once the sky darkened and the stars came out, Jocasta changed into her working blacks (that, her being a modern, canny Assassin were actually dark greenish grey), opened the window and slipped out. Tonight was a practice run. It's aim was simply to familiarize the young woman with the ways of Genua's roofs and byways. Once she had her route in and out of the Lavish mansion, she could go in for the inhumation.

The hot, humid atmosphere of the city in the delta made for a good growth of slippery moss across the roofs. Jocasta hadn't moved more than a few yards when she stopped and reached into a pouch on her belt and put on light crampons. They weren't as quiet as proper soft shoes but if you moved with care they weren't bad. In any case, falling off a roof with a scream was even noisier.