Cops and Robbers

Vigano

Vigano slowly turned the pages of the book. He was sitting at a wooden table in the library of his own home, turning the pages, looking at the faces on each page. Marty was also at the table, looking through a second book. The other books were being studied over at a second table by everyone who’d had a look at the guy who’d come here a month ago to ask what he should steal that Vigano would pay two million dollars for.

The messenger who’d brought the books down from New York was waiting in a car in the driveway. It had cost a lot of money to get the loan of these books for the night, and the messenger had to get them back no later than six tomorrow morning. The books contained the official photo of every policeman currently on active duty with the New York Police Department.

During the day, these same books were being looked at by the employees and guards of the stock brokerage that had been robbed. So far, according to Vigano’s information, they hadn’t come up with anything.

Neither had Vigano. The faces all began to blend together after a while, all those eyebrows, hairlines, noses. Vigano was tired and irritable, his eyes were burning, and what he really wanted to do was kick these goddam books across the room.

If only Marty hadn’t lost the son of a bitch the night he was here. Afterwards, it was easy to see the thing had been a set-up, the cop at the head of the stairs in Penn Station had to have been the first guy’s partner, but at the time there hadn’t been any way for Marty to guess that. He hadn’t been present for the conversation, he hadn’t known there was a possibility the guy he was following was a cop, nor that he’d spoken about having a partner. Later on, when they’d compared notes back here at the house, it had been easy to see what had been done.

It had been simple and clever, like the robbery. Whether the two of them were really cops or not, they were fast and shrewd, and they shouldn’t be underestimated.

Whether they were cops or not. That was the worst of looking through these lousy books, there was still a good chance the guy wasn’t really a cop at all. At what point was he disguised as a cop and at what point was he a real cop? He and his partner had been disguised in police uniforms when they’d pulled off the robbery; had his claiming to be a police officer while he was here in this house been simply the same disguise?

All the faces in the books looked alike. Vigano knew he wasn’t going to get anywhere, but he believed in being thorough. He would look through all the books, every one. And so would Marty, and so would the others. It wouldn’t do any good, but they’d do it.

One way and another, Vigano was determined to find those two. Cops or no cops.