The door flew open and Commander Dubois stalked in, clutching a thick sheaf of
papers. The Guard Captains quieted down and came to some sort of attention.
Fisher put away her knife and whetstone and elbowed Hawk sharply. He
straightened up with a grunt, and fixed his bleary eye on Dubois as the
Commander glared out over the squadroom. Dubois was short and stocky and bald as
an egg. He'd been a Commander for twenty-three years and it hadn't improved his
disposition one bit. He'd been a hell of a thief-taker in his day, but he'd
taken one chance too many, and half a dozen thugs took it in turn to stamp on
his legs till they broke. The doctors said he'd never walk again. They didn't
know Dubois. These days he spent most of his time overseeing operations,
fighting the Council for a higher budget, and training new recruits. After three
weeks of his slave-driving and caustic wit most recruits looked forward to
hitting the streets of Haven as the lesser of two evils. It was truly said among
the Guard that if you could survive Dubois, you could survive anything.
'All right; pay attention!' Dubois looked sternly about him. 'First the good
news: The Council's approved the money for overtime payments, starting
immediately. Now the bad news: You're going to earn it. Early this morning there
was a riot in the Devil's Hook. Fifty-seven dead, twenty-three injured. Two of
the dead were Guards. Constables Campbell and Grzeshkowiak. Funeral's on
Thursday. Those wishing to attend, line up your replacements by Tuesday latest.
It's your responsibility to make sure you're covered.
'More bad news. The Dock-Workers Guild is threatening to resume their strike
unless the Dock owners agree to spend more money on safe working conditions.
Which means we can expect more riots. I've doubled the number of Constables in
and around the Docks, but keep your eyes open. Riots have a way of spreading.
And as if we didn't have enough to worry about, last night someone broke into
the main catacombs on Morrison Street and removed seventy-two bodies. Could be
ghouls, black magicians, or some nut cult from the Street of Gods. Either way,
it's trouble. A lot of important people were buried in the catacombs, and their
families are frothing at the mouth. I want those bodies back, preferably
reasonably intact. Keep your ears to the ground. If you hear anything, I want to
know about it.
Now for the general reports. Captains Gibson and Doughty: Word is there's a
haunted house on Blakeney Street. Check it out. If it is haunted, don't try to
be heroes. Just clear the area and send for an exorcist. Captains Briars and
Lee: We've had several reports of some kind of beast prowling the streets in
East Gate. Only sightings so far, no attacks, but pick up silver daggers from
the Armory before you leave, just in case. Captains Fawkes and ap Owen: You
still haven't found that rapist yet. We've had four victims already and that's
four too many. I don't care how you do it, but nail the bastard. And if
someone's been shielding him, nail them too. This has top priority until I tell
you otherwise.
'Captains Hawk and Fisher: Nice to have you back with us after your little
holiday with the God Squad. May I remind you that in this department we prefer
to bring in our perpetrators alive, whenever possible. We all know your fondness
for cold steel as an answer to most problems, but try not to be so impulsive
this time out. Just for me.
'Finally, we have three new rewards.' He smiled humorlessly as the Captains
quickly produced notepads and pencils. Rewards were one of the few legitimate
perks of the job, but Dubois was of the old school and didn't approve. Rewards
smelt too much like bribes to him, and distracted his men from the cases that
really needed solving. He read out the reward particulars, deliberately speaking
quickly to make it harder to write down the details. It didn't bother Fisher.
She was a fast writer. A low rumble at her side broke her concentration, and she
elbowed Hawk viciously. He snapped awake and put on his best, interested
expression.
'One last item,' said Dubois. 'All suppressor stones are recalled, as of now.
We've been having a lot of problems with them just recently. I know they've
proved very useful so far in protecting us from magical attacks, but we've had a
lot of reports of stones malfunctioning or otherwise proving unreliable. There's
even been two cases where the damn things exploded. One Guard lost his hand. The
stone blew it right off his arm. So, all stones are to be returned to the
Armory, as soon as possible, for checking. No exceptions. Don't make me come
looking for you.'
He broke off as a Constable hurried in with a sheet of paper. He passed it to
Dubois, who read it quickly and then questioned the Constable in a low voice.
The Captains stirred uneasily. Finally Dubois dismissed the Constable and turned
back to them.
'It appears we have a spy on the loose in Haven. Nothing unusual there, but this
particular spy has got his hands on some extremely sensitive material. The
Council is in a panic. They want him caught, and they want him yesterday. So get
out there and lean on your informants. Someone must know something. The city
Gates have all been sealed, so he's not going anywhere.
'Unfortunately, the Council hasn't given us much information to go on. We know
the spy's code name: Fenris. We also have a vague description: tall and thin
with blond hair. Apart from that, you're on your own. Finding this Fenris now
has top priority over all other cases until we've got him, or until the Council
tells us otherwise. All right, end of briefing. Get out of here. And someone
wake up Hawk.'
There was general laughter as the Captains dispersed, and Fisher dragged Hawk
towards the door, Hawk protesting innocently that he'd heard every word. He
broke off as they left the squadroom, and Fisher headed for the Armory.
'Isobel, where are you going?'
'The Armory. To hand in the suppressor stone.'
'Forget it,' said Hawk. 'I'm not giving that up. It's the only protection we've
got against hostile magic.'
Fisher looked at him. 'You heard Dubois; the damned things are dangerous. I'm
not having my hand blown off, just so you can feel a bit more secure.'
'All right then, I'll carry it.'
'No you won't. I don't trust you with gadgets.'
'Well, one of us has to have it. Or the next rogue magician we run into is going
to hand us our heads. Probably literally.'
Fisher sighed, and nodded reluctantly. 'All right, but we only use the thing in
emergencies. Agreed?'
'Agreed.'
They strode unhurriedly through the narrow Headquarters corridors and out onto
the crowded street. Just a few weeks ago there'd been snow and slush everywhere,
but the city's weather wizards had finally got their act together and deflected
the worst of the weather away from Haven, sending it out over the ocean. This
