'Me? Hurt my girls?' said Sebastian, looking around him as though to invite the
world to witness his harassment. 'I love my girls like sisters! Who sees they
always have nice clothes to wear, and looks after all their needs? They're like
family to me, all my girls. They just need a little firm guidance from time to
time, that's all.'
'Your associate and business partner, that nasty little thug Bates, is currently
awaiting trial for 'firmly guiding' one of your girls by slashing her face with
a razor,' said Hawk. 'I know you, Sebastian; I know you and all your nasty
little ways. And if I discover you've been firmly guiding any of your girls
again, I shall be annoyed with you. You do remember what happened when I got
annoyed with Bates, don't you?'
The pimp nodded reluctantly. 'He's making good progress. He should be out of
hospital soon.'
'Really? I must be losing my touch. Keep your hands off the girls, Sebastian. Or
I'll tie your fingers in knots.'
Sebastian smiled and nodded as though it hurt him, and disappeared into the
crowd. Hawk watched him go, nodded politely to the whores, who ignored him, and
made his way back to the fire. Fisher was down on her knees, playing with a few
children too young to be afraid of a Guard's uniform. Hawk watched for a while,
smiling gently. Isobel was good with kids. They'd talked about having children
of their own more than once, but somehow it never seemed to be the right time.
The crowd suddenly erupted in shouts and screams, and backed quickly away as a
prisoner who'd broken away from his escort lashed about him with a knife he'd
somehow kept hidden. He grabbed for one of the children by Fisher, obviously
intending to use the child as a hostage. Fisher glanced round and back-elbowed
him viciously in the groin. She rose unhurriedly to her feet as the prisoner
hunched forward over his pain, then rabbit-punched him. He collapsed and lay
still. Fisher kicked the knife away from his hand and went back to playing with
the children. Two Constables dragged the unconscious prisoner away.
Hawk decided regretfully that they'd killed about as much time as they could get
away with, and they ought really to get back to the job. They were barely
halfway through their second shift. He tried concentrating on all the overtime
they were racking up, but it didn't help. His feet were numb, his forehead still
ached from the cold, and his back was killing him. Hawk hated the winter. He
collected Fisher, waved goodbye to the kids and their unresponsive mothers, and
strode resignedly out into the waiting cold. And the first thing he saw was
Benny the Weasel shivering in a borrowed cloak as he tried unsuccessfully to
hail a sedan chair. Hawk and Fisher looked at each other, and strolled casually
over to join him. Benny saw them coming, and clearly thought about making a run
for it, before better sense took over. He drew himself up to his full five foot
six and tried to brazen it out.
'Benny,' said Hawk reproachfully, 'what do you think you're doing out here?'
'They let me go,' said Benny quickly, his eyes darting from Hawk to Fisher and
back again. 'All the charges have been dropped. That's official. Told you I had
friends.'
Hawk and Fisher stepped forward, took an elbow each, and carried Benny kicking
and protesting into the nearest back alley. As soon as they put him down, he
tried to bolt, but Hawk snagged him easily and slammed him against the wall,
just hard enough to rattle his eyes and put a temporary stop to any complaints.
Hawk brought his face close to Benny's, and fixed him with his single cold eye.
'No one walks when we bring the charges, Benny. Not ever. I don't care what kind
of friends you've got, you are guilty as hell and you're going to stand trial.'
'They won't accept your evidence,' said Benny desperately. 'The judge will let
me off. You'll see.'
Hawk sighed. 'You're not getting the message, Benny. If we let you walk, all the
other scum will start thinking they can get away with things. And we can't have
that, can we? So you are going to walk back into Headquarters, make a full
confession, and plead guilty. Because if you don't, Fisher and I will take turns
thinking up horrible things to do to you.'
'They won't convict me on just a confession.'
'Then you'd better be sure to provide plenty of corroborative evidence. Hadn't
you?'
Benny looked at Hawk's implacable face and then glanced at Fisher. She had a
nasty-looking skinning knife in her hand, and was calmly paring her nails with
it. Benny studied the knife with fascinated eyes and swallowed hard. Right then,
all the awful stories he'd heard about Hawk and Fisher seemed a lot more
believable than they had before. Hawk coughed politely to get his attention, and
Benny almost screamed.
'Benny…'
'I think I'd like to confess, please, Captain Hawk.'
'You do realize you don't have to?'
'I want to.'
'Legally, you're not bound to do so…'
'Please, let me confess! I want to! Honestly!'
'Good man,' said Hawk, standing back from him. 'It's always refreshing to meet a
citizen who believes in honesty and justice. Now, get in there and start talking
while we're still in a good mood.'
Benny ran out of the alleyway and back into Guard Headquarters. Fisher smiled
and put away her knife. The two Guards left the alley and made their way
unhurriedly down the street, heading back to their beat in the Northside.
The Northside was the rotten heart of Haven, where all that was bad in the city
came to the surface, like scum on poisoned wine. Crime and corruption and casual
evil permeated the Northside, where every taste and trade was catered to.
Various gangs of drug dealers fought running battles over lucrative territories,
ruthlessly cutting down any innocent bystanders who got in the way. Spies
plotted treason behind shuttered windows, and many doors opened only to the
correct whispered password. Sweatshops and crowded slum tenements huddled
together under broken street lamps, and the smoke from local factories hung
permanently on the air, clawing at the throats of those who breathed it. Some
said the Northside was as much a state of mind as an area, but states of mind
don't usually smell that bad.
Hawk and Fisher strolled through the narrow streets, nodding to familiar faces
in the bustling crowd. Speed was a way of life in the Northside; there were
deals to be made, slights to be avenged, and you never knew who might be coming
up behind you. Hawk and Fisher rarely let themselves be hurried. You could miss
things that way, and Hawk and Fisher always liked to know what was going on
around them. They'd had the Northside as their beat for five years now, on and
off, but despite their best efforts, little had changed in that time. For every
villain they put away, the Northside produced two more to take his place, and
