Remo looked down at the two of them. Their jackets had fallen open and he saw that they wore white jackets that matched their white slacks. Like hospital uniforms, he thought. Neither man stirred and Remo cursed his bad luck. If he had thought of it, he would have kept one of them alive to answer questions.
A man and a woman walked down the street toward Remo and the two men at his feet. Without ever really looking, they separated and passed the tableau, one on each side, and then joined hands again on the other side and continued strolling.
A policeman approached. He stood alongside Remo and looked down at the two bodies.
"Dead?" he asked.
"I guess so," Remo said.
"You going to want to report this?" the cop asked.
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"Should I?" asked Remo.
"Well, you can, you know. I mean, two muggers attacked you and you killed them. I know a lot of police departments don't mind getting reports on things like that."
"But you do?"
"Look at it this way, pal," said the policeman earnestly. He leaned close to Remo and Remo read his identification plate.
Patrolman L. Blade said "If you report it, then I'm going to have to make a lot of reports and things, triplicate and like that." As he spoke, pedestrians continued to walk by without stopping, taking great pains not to look directly at the dead men on the sidewalk. "And they'll take your name and address and then you'll have to go before a grand jury and who knows what the hell might happen, maybe they'll indict you."
"For protecting myself?"
"This is New York. You've got to understand how we feel about things like that," said Patrolman L. Blade. "Actually, I'm on your side. I guess, maybe, half us cops are. But if we let people go around getting the idea "that they can protect themselves, that they've got a right to protect themselves, well, where does that leave the patrolmen's benevolent association?"
"In other words," said Remo, "protecting yourself against a mugger without being in the policeman's union is like scabbing the job?"
"That's right," Patrolman L. Blade said.
"I see," said Remo. "I'd like to know who these guys are."
"Let's give them a toss," the cop said. He bent
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over the bodies. Practiced hands moved through their pockets swiftly. Neither man carried a wallet or any type of identification.
"Sorry. No ID," the policeman said.
"If I report this, the bodies go to the morgue?"
The policeman nodded.
"And they identify them from fingerprints, right?"
"In theory," Patrolman L. Blade said.
"What do you mean, in theory?"
"We've got so many bodies that it takes a couple of months to get to them. You want identities, figure sixty to ninety days. If everything goes smooth."
"What happens if I don't make a report?"
"Nothing."
"What do you mean, nothing?" Remo asked.
"You and me, we just go on about our business like nothing happened."
"And what happens to them?" Remo asked, pointing down.
"They'll be gone by morning," the cop said.
"But what happens to them?"
"I don't know. I just know that they're always gone by morning. Maybe medical schools take them for experiments." He winked at Remo. "Maybe per-voes need them for dirty things. I don't know. They ain't my unions."
"God help us," Remo said. "Do what you want." He turned to walk to the amusement arcade.
The cop called him. "Hey, buddy," he said.
"What?"
"Remember. You never talked to me. I don't know nothing."
"Truer words were never spoken," Remo said.
Inside the high-ceilinged arcade, Chiun was nego-
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tiating change of a dollar with the clerk. They both looked up in relief as Remo approached.
"Remo, will you tell this idiot that that dollar bill is a silver certificate and worth more than four quarters?" Chiun said.
"He's telling you the truth," Remo told the clerk.
The clerk shook his head. "All I know is my boss wouldn't like it, I give more than four quarters change for a dollar."
"Invincible ignorance," Chiun said.
Remo took a dollar out of his pocket and gave it to the clerk. The clerk returned the silver certificate. Chiun had it it out of Remo's hands and back among the folds of his robe before Remo's eyes had a chance to focus on the bill.
"I owe you a dollar," Chiun said.