Thud! by Terry Pratchett Page A

She returned his stare.
    “All right, you’re in,” Vimes said at last. “On probation, to start with. Everyone starts that way. Sort out the paperwork with Sergeant Littlebottom downstairs, report to Sergeant Detritus for your gear and orientation lecture, and try not to laugh. And now you’ve got what you want, and we’re not being official…tell me why.”
    “Pardon?” said Sally.
    “A vampire wanting to be a copper?” said Vimes, leaning back in his chair. “I can’t quite make that fit, ‘Sally.’ ”
    “I thought it would be an interesting job in the fresh air, which would offer opportunities to help people, Commander Vimes.”
    “Hmm,” said Vimes. “If you can say that without smiling, you might make a copper after all. Welcome to the job, lance constable. I hope you have—”
    The door slammed. Captain Carrot took two steps into the room, saw Sally, and hesitated.
    “Lance Constable von Humpeding has just joined us, Captain,” said Vimes.
    “Er…fine…hello, miss,” said Carrot quickly, and turned to Vimes. “Sir, someone’s killed Hamcrusher!”

A nkh-Morpork’s Finest strolled back down toward the Yard.
    “What I’d do,” said Nobby, “is cut the painting up into little bits, like, oh, a few inches across?”
    “That’s diamonds, Nobby. It’s how you get rid of stolen diamonds.”
    “All right, then, how about this one? You cut the muriel up into bits the size of ordinary paintings, okay? Then you paint a painting on the other side of each one, an’ put ’em in frames, an’ leave ’em around the place. No one will notice extra paintings, right? An’ then you can go an’ pinch ’em when the fuss has died down.”
    “And how do you get them out, Nobby?”
    “Well, first you get some glue, and a really long stick, and—”
    Fred Colon shook his head. “Can’t see it happening, Nobby.”
    “All right, then, you get some paint that’s the same color as the walls, and you glue the painting to the wall somewhere it’ll fit, and you paint over it with your wall paint so it looks just like the wall.”
    “Got a convenient bit of wall in mind, then?”
    “How about inside the frame that’s there already, Sarge?”
    “Bloody hell, Nobby, that’s clever,” said Fred, stopping dead.
    “Thank you, Sarge. That means a lot, coming from you.”
    “But you’ve still got to get it out, Nobby.”
    “Remember all those dust sheets, Sarge? I bet in a few weeks’ time a couple of blokes in overalls will be able to walk out of the place with a big white roll under their arms and no one’d think twice about it, ’cos they’d, like, be thinkin’ the muriel had been pinched weeks before.”
    There were a few moments of silence before Sergeant Colon said, in a hushed voice: “That’s a very dangerous mind you got there, Nobby. Very dangerous indeed. How’d you get the new paint off, though?”
    “Oh, that’s easy,” said Nobby. “And I know where to get some painters’ aprons, too.”
    “Nobby!” said Fred, shocked.
    “All right, Sarge. You can’t blame a man for dreaming, though.”
    “This could be a feather in our caps, Nobby. And we could do with one now.”
    “Your water playing up again, Sarge?”
    “You may laugh, Nobby, but you’ve only got to look around,” said Fred gloomily. “It’s just gang fights now, but it’s going to get worse, you mark my words. All this scrapping over something that happened thousands of years ago! I don’t know why they don’t get back to where they came from if they want to do that!”
    “Most of ’em come from here now,” observed Nobby.
    Fred grunted his disdain for a mere fact of geography.
    “War, Nobby. Huh! What is it good for?” he said.
    “Dunno, Sarge. Freeing slaves, maybe?”
    “Absol—well, okay.”
    “Defending yourself against a totalitarian aggressor?”
    “All right, I’ll grant you that, but—”
    “Saving civilization from a horde of—”
    “It doesn’t do any good in the long run is