Do Not Recall

Standing between Baggett and Curry, I heard the sharp intake of Baggett’s breath, and the barely audible sound of dismayed surprise from Curry, and wondered distantly what they had observed about my own reaction. I felt the odd pricking sensation of hairs standing up all over my body, and knew without looking at him that Curry and I were both thinking about what I had really seen tonight when I went looking for Lamb here at the watch house.

Blinking my stinging eyes, I kept my eyes on the chief, afraid to give away anything, especially when I still didn’t know why we were here.

“Lamb was found at the Foglock bridge, and Ladd is missing, currently presumed dead. There was an almost unquestionably fatal quantity of blood at the scene and on the bridge rail, and as of now it appears she tumbled over in a violent struggle,” said Chakrabarti. “However, because we don’t know for certain, time is of the essence. The volunteer shift will conduct a search for Ladd, covering a one-mile radius from the bridge, as well as downstream all the way to the sea grate.”

Delp shook his head in unhappy disgust. “Have the Rooks finished up?”

Chakrabarti shook her head. “Lamb sent a note earlier—they only have one person on coroner duty tonight, and she was still finishing up with their scene from this afternoon. She’s there now, with some patrol constables, but can’t transfer him to the morgue until we’ve been through.”

“But—not the morgue—they have to recall him,” I protested with sudden distress, even though I shouldn’t interrupt a ranking officer like this, especially right in front of the captain and the chief guarder. “If it’s only been a little while they have to recall him, they can’t just—” I cut myself off when Battenfeld, who had remained there next to Chakrabarti in resolute, stony silence since we first came in, suddenly let out a miserable gasp of a sob that brought immediate sympathetic tears to my eyes, even if I didn’t understand why he was reacting like that.

The brief silence felt uncomfortable, in a delicate way like everyone else knew something I didn't.

Battenfeld gestured mutely, waving off Chakrabarti when she set a hand on his shoulder, looking a bit teary herself. I caught a movement from the corner of my eye and glanced over to see Baggett staring at his shoes.

“We’ll make sure neither of them unfiled their orders within the last few years,” the chief guarder said gently, “but it’s not uncommon for SCD detectives to maintain a Do-Not-Recall order with the temple. Both of them did, last I’m aware.”

“But—but why—” I faltered uselessly, then broke off. There had never been much cause to think in real depth about DNR orders and what they meant, but now it seemed like a very important detail never to have considered. A DNR order meant that legally a recall rite couldn’t be attempted. Possibly Lord Rava wouldn’t even let it happen, if someone tried anyway. Lamb was gone—actually gone. The permanent kind of gone.

I felt my lip beginning to tremble, and since I’d already made myself look all of nine years old in front of everyone who mattered respective to this division, I joined Baggett in staring at my shoes.

“This is a terrible loss,” the chief guarder agreed simply. “The Fourth won’t be the same without them. Lamb and Ladd were competent, and well-loved by everyone whose opinion was worth a damn, and model watch officers in about every way one can be.”

“Does anybody know how come they were even in the sixth ward?” Curry asked after everyone had taken in the chief’s words for a moment. “Lamb said earlier they were going to wind up things at the scene and then come back to the castle and look up whether there were any recent missing people who might give them somewhere to start identifying the victim.”

Baggett was nodding. “Why would they go all the way to Foglock instead? And why would anybody want to hurt them?” I was glad he was the one asking that last question, because I had been wondering too, but it felt like too painfully obvious a thing to ask out loud, and because the more I thought about how likeable they were, the more intensely this peculiar sense of loss welled up in my chest.

Lamb and Ladd had been so grand to us today, and for a few hours I had been wrapped up in the comforting anticipation of being mentored by two such people. Now that would never happen.

“We don’t know,” Chakrabarti said, looking as sad as Battenfeld. “But we’ll find out.”

“There’s been an odd uptick of gangs crime in the sixth lately,” Baggett said suddenly. “What if that’s some connection to their victim?” He turned to me and Curry. “Who are you? What’re you here for?”

I opened my mouth, but Curry, sensing how little I liked that question, answered for us both. “We don’t know why we’re here. We only just met them today after a body turned up on our route and we called for the **** guards.”

Hui cut in. “They’re here the same reason as you. Them being on that scene today is just a coincidence.”

“Right… except, why am I here?” Baggett inquired, with an air of vaguely beleaguered puzzlement. “I get an emergency message summoning me to the castle, when I don’t even report through this ward—nobody wants to explain anything then or after—by the time I get here there’s an all-hands sounding, and now it turns out two of the best detectives in the whole city are dead and you want… what with us, exactly?” He motioned to himself, then me and Curry.

Both Delp and Hui seemed about to speak, but the chief guarder cut in before either of them could. “It’s been an extremely long day and I agree with Baggett—let’s speak frankly. I really don’t care if the oversight council is pissed off about it or not—their fussiness over SCD succession appearing democratic makes everything take about a thousand times longer than it ought. If the council doesn’t like it, I’ll tell the Lord Mayor myself that it’s their fault we only had four experienced **** detectives this morning, and two now. Lamb and Ladd might be alive if they hadn’t put us in this situation.”

He turned to Baggett. “It was not arbitrary that your provisional detective training has taken place with serious crimes, Sergeant-Constable. We planned to offer you a place on the unit starting spring of ‘82, but we can’t keep Delp out of retirement and Mouse and Eslinger loaned for the next two years any more than we can get by with only two serious crimes detectives. If you want the promotion, you’ll be transferred to the Fourth at your current rank starting next salary period, and complete the remainder of your training on the job. It’s unorthodox to add someone who hasn’t yet earned their full sergeant rank, but this is a staffing emergency.”

Baggett stared at the chief for a second, before nodding hastily. “I accept. Thank you, sir.” He glanced at me and Curry, no doubt thinking the same thing I was—he himself was probably a bit too young for an impromptu SCD promotion, and we were still younger and less experienced than him, so what in all the hells were we doing here?

“Bersk and Curry,” the chief said, “Baggett spent a year completing the annual detective sergeant course before he began his assigned work experience training here in the Fourth. The next year-long session begins in two weeks. You two were meant to begin that process two years from now. Instead, I’m inviting you to enter the next course. I realize this request cheats you out of two years valuable patrol guard experience, as well as putting you in classes with officers considerably your elder, which is why I will respect your decision if you say no. You will have a harder time of it than other officers completing the same course, but if you pass then in a year you’ll begin provisional training, and another two or three seasons after that you will join the unit around the same time Baggett would have.”

He looked at us a moment, then added, “If you wish to take a few days to decide, there is time for that.”

There was a short silence while Curry and I shared a long look. After a moment Curry said, “We accept, sir.”

Baggett raised his brows in what I took for mild incredulity, probably because Curry was electing a major decision for us both after barely three seconds of silent negotiation, but didn’t otherwise react.

I nodded, so the chief would understand he really had spoken accurately for me as well.

“Very good.” The chief nodded curtly in turn. “Blanks—reduce Bersk and Curry to a quarter-time schedule for patrol duty starting the first week of the detective course, and make sure the First knows I wish them to be enrolled.”

“First thing tomorrow, sir,” Blankenship agreed.

Hui released a long, unhappy sigh.

“Baggett, you weren’t on duty with the Sixth today, is that correct? You’re pretty fresh?” asked Blankenship after another short silence.

“That’s right.” Baggett nodded.

“If you’re willing, I think your help would be appreciated at the scene tonight. Your formal transfer can’t take place between salary periods, but we can use your help right away, unless you have unresolved matters at the Sixth which make this impossible.”

Baggett shook his head no. “I'm available. What do I tell my captain?”

“I will make whatever arrangements are necessary with Captain Veatch to approve your transfer,” Blankenship said. Then he added, “The grim upside to something this bad is by morning every other ward in the city will be so busy right now quaking with gratitude that this isn’t them, that we could just about ask for the moons on a platter and not a one of them will dare tell us no.”

“I’d invite you to assist,” Captain Hui said to me and Curry, “but you already spent your whole day at your first **** scene. So I’d rather you went home than add two exhausted officers to this mess. Thanks for staying.”

We both nodded numbly.

“Baggett, stay a few minutes for a word, and then I’ll let you join Barty and Battenfeld,” Blankenship said. “You two get on out of here.” The lieutenant motioned at me and Curry.

We nodded again, and this time our feet actually moved us toward the door.