He threw aside his axe and grabbed at the iron guttering as he shot past it. He
got a firm grip on the trough with both hands, and the sudden shock of stopping
almost wrenched his arms from his sockets. The guttering groaned loudly, but
supported his weight. Hawk hung there for a moment, breathing hard, his feet
dangling above the street far below, and then he started to pull himself back
up. The trough groaned again and shifted suddenly. There was a muffled pop as a
rivet tore free, and Hawk froze where he was. The guttering didn't look at all
secure, especially when seen from underneath, and he didn't think it would hold
his weight much longer. On the other hand, one sudden movement might be all it
would take to pull it away completely. He pulled himself up slowly and
carefully, an inch at a time, ignoring the sudden groans and stirrings from the
ironwork, and swung one leg up over onto the roof. A few moments later he was
back on the roof, reaching for his axe and wiping sweat from his forehead. The
sound of approaching feet on the fire escape caught his attention again and he
grinned suddenly as a new idea came to him.
He moved carefully over to the metal stairway and looked down. Seven men-at-arms
were heading up towards him. They looked grim, and very competent. Hawk waved at
them cheerfully, and then bent forward and stuck his axehead between the side of
the stairway and the wall. He threw his weight against the axe, and the fire
escape tore away from the wall with almost casual ease. The seven swordsmen
screamed all the way down to the street below. Hawk put his axe away. Sometimes
there was a lot to be said for cheap building practices.
He clambered up to the roof ridge and looked down the other side. Burns was
crouching at the edge of the roof, sword in hand, keeping watch from behind a
jutting gable. There was no sign of any more men-at-arms. Hawk called out to
Burns, and he jumped half out of his skin. He spun round, sword at the ready,
and then glared balefully as he saw it was only Hawk.
'Don't do that!'
'Sorry,' said Hawk. 'I take it none of the men-at-arms got this far?'
'Haven't seen hide nor hair of them. I don't think they were interested in me,
only you. How many came after you?'
'Ten,' said Hawk, casually.
'Bloody hell. What happened to them?'
Hawk grinned. 'We had a falling out.'
They made their way back to Headquarters, but though there were no further
incidents, Hawk couldn't shake the feeling they were still being followed. He
tried all the usual tricks to make a tail reveal himself, but he didn't see
anyone, no matter how carefully he checked. It was always possible his current
situation had him jumping at shadows, but he didn't think so. The crawling itch
between his shoulder blades stayed with him all the way back to Guard
Headquarters. He stopped at the main doors and peered wistfully down the street
at The Cloudy Morning tavern. A drink would really hit the spot now, after the
long day's exertions, but he could just visualize the look on Burns's face if he
were to suggest it. All the partners he could have chosen, and he had to pick a
saint in training. He strode scowling into Headquarters, and everyone hurried to
get out of his way. Burns walked silently beside him, nodding casually to
familiar faces. He'd been unusually quiet ever since Morgan's people jumped
them. Hawk shrugged mentally. Apparently Burns was still mad at him for not
trying to bring in his attackers alive. As if he'd had a choice, with ten-to-one
odds.
They made their way through the building, going from department to department,
ostensibly just passing the time of day with their co-workers, but always
managing to slip in the occasional probing question. It was hard going. None of
the Guards wanted to talk about Morgan or his drugs, and in particular no one
wanted to be seen talking to Hawk. Overnight he'd become bad news, and no one
wanted to get too close in case some of the guilt rubbed off on them. The sudden
reticence was unnerving. Usually Headquarters was buzzing with gossip about
everything under the sun, most of it unprovable and nearly all of it
acrimonious, but now all Hawk had to do was stick his head round a door and
silence would fall across the room. Hawk gritted his teeth and kept smiling. He
didn't want anyone to think the silence was getting to him. And slowly, very
slowly, he started getting answers. They were mostly evasive, and always hushed,
but they often told as much by what they didn't say as what they did. And the
picture that gradually emerged was more than a little disturbing.
Mistress Melanie of the Wardrobe department didn't know anything about Morgan or
the missing drugs, but she did let slip that the campaign of silence was
semiofficial in origin. Word had come down from Above that the Morgan case was
closed. Permanently. Which suggested that someone High Up was involved, as well
as someone at Headquarters. That was unusual; corruption in the higher ranks of
the Guard tended to be political rather than criminal. A clerk in Intelligence
quietly intimated that at least one Guard Captain was involved. And a pretty
well-regarded Captain, too. He wouldn't even hint at a name.
Hawk and Burns hung around the Constables' cloakroom for a while, but it soon
became clear that the Constables were uneasy in their company and had nothing to
say. The Forensic Laboratory was up to its eyes in work, as usual, and the
technicians were all too busy to talk. Vice, Forgery, and Confidence Tricks were
all evasive and occasionally openly obstructive. Hawk had his enemies in the
Guard, and some saw this as their chance to attack while he was vulnerable. Hawk
just kept on smiling, and made a note of certain names for later.
Of all the departments, the Murder Squad turned out to be the most
forthcoming—probably because no one was going to tell any of its members who
they could and couldn't talk to. They were the toughest of the tough, took no
nonsense from anyone, and didn't care who knew it. Unfortunately, what they knew
wasn't really worth the telling. The crates of super-chacal had been taken down
to the storage cellars, and signed in, all according to procedure. But when the
time came to check the contents, there was no sign of the crates anywhere.
Everyone in Stores swore blind that no one could have got to the drugs without
breaking Stores' security, and all the wards and protections were still in
place, undisturbed. Which meant it had to be an inside job. Someone in Stores
had been got at. But when the Stores personnel were tested under truthspell,
they all came out clean as a whistle. So whoever took the drugs had to be
someone fairly high up in the Guard, with access to the right keys and
passwords. Hawk mentioned the possibility of a Captain on the take. There was a
lot of shrugging and sideways glances, but no one would admit to knowing
anything definite. Hawk thanked them for their time, and left.
That just left the Drug Squad, but as Hawk expected, no one there would talk to
him. They were already under suspicion themselves, and weren't about to make
things worse by helping a pariah like Hawk. He nodded politely to the silent
room, and then he and Burns left to do some hard thinking. They found an empty
