“Hold on, Captain, my backup plan might still work,” said Sushi, looking in the direction in which the fugitive had disappeared.
“Backup plan?” Phule turned and looked accusingly at Sushi. “You didn’t mention a backup plan!”
Sushi answered with a sheepish expression, “That’s because, if we didn’t need it, nobody needed to know about it. Especially not the cops.”
Phule stiffened. “It’s not your place to decide what I need to know, Sushi. I’m your superior officer.”
“And I’m the head of an interplanetary, uh, organization,” said Sushi. “Which on behalf of our restaurant owner, Mr. Takamine, decided to call in a favor from. We’ll see if it works.”
“The Ya-” Phule began.
“Ya, ya,” Sushi cut him off with a finger to the lips. “No need to mention names here,” he said, looking at Officer Dunstable.
“What the heck you talkin’ about?” said the policeman, but then a shout came from the cops extricating their brother officer from the thorn hedge, and he turned to look. “I’ll be damned, he’s coming back!”
Sure enough, the suspect was walking slowly back toward them, a resigned look on his face. His body language radiated utter defeat. A short distance behind him-almost as if by accident-a stout, middle-aged Japanese man walked with a small, nervous dog on a leash.
“See? I told you that business venture of mine would come in handy one of these days,” said Sushi. He turned to Dunstable. “I don’t think you’ll have any more trouble with him,” he said. Sure enough, even as he spoke, one cop took the suspect in hand, and he surrendered without the least sign of resistance. The middle-aged man walked on, speaking softly to his little dog, and nodded politely to the policemen as he passed.