“You know what the Freeze is all about?” I demanded, and went on before he could answer. “We?re
the only federal agency around who works with the street cops. The FBI, the IRS, Justice Department,
they?re all in it for themselves.”
“And you?re not?” he demanded. “You came here to bust this Tagliani?s balls, right or wrong?”
“1 came here to find out what he?s doing here—”
“Was,” he interrupted.
“Was,” I agreed. “But if he was here, then the rest of his bunch is close by. I know this outfit, Dutch. I
know this gang better than anyone alive. Sure, I want to bring the whole bunch down. What do you
want to do, send flowers?”
He lit his Camel and took a long pull, staring hard at me all the while.
“Look here,” he said. “Before, when I was talking about what our assignment is, I left one thing out.
We were supposed to keep organized crime out of Doomstown. All of a sudden, your boss tells me we
got Mafia up to our eyeballs. How do you think that makes me feel? All of us, the whole bunch. Like
monkeys, that?s how.”
“Cisco didn?t invite them down here, y?know. He just recognized a face and turned them up for you,
that?s all. If it was the Feebies, you can bet your sweet by-and-by they?d be all over town and you
couldn?t find out what day it is From any of them.”
“You?re right there.”
“So we throw in together and bring them down?”
“If somebody doesn?t beat us to it.”
“Okay. So tell your boys to forget this college Charlie shit,” I said, still acting irritated. “This isn?t
pledge week at the old frat house and I?m not here to impress anybody. If these guys are as tough as
you make them sound, it?ll help if you give me a vote of confidence off the top.”
Not bad, Kilmer, not bad at all. Hard case but not hard nose. They can live with that.
Dutch started laughing.
“Sensitive, ain?t you,” he said, and led me into the building. We walked through the front door into
what looked like the entrance to a prison block: a small boxlike room, a door with a bell on one side,
and a mirror in the wall beside it. One-way glass. Dutch shoved a thumb against the bell. A second
later the door buzzed open. Inside, a black, uniformed cop sat in a darkened cubicle, watching the
entrance. An Uzi submachine gun was leaning on the wall beside him. I nodded and got a blank stare
back.
“Looks like you?re expecting an invasion,” I said.
“Security. Nobody gets in here without one of us saying so. That includes everybody from the chief of
