A warning bell went off in the back of Phule’s mind, but he maintained a calm expression. “If that’s the case, I think we can take care of this business quickly. There are holo ID pictures of the entire company on file. Why don’t you and the officers look through them and see if you can identify the robber? Then we’ll call him in and see what he has to say for himself.”
“Oh, that’ll be just triff,” said the restaurant owner sarcastically. “He’ll lie and you’ll take his word for it, and I’ll end up springin’ for the doctor bills.”
Phule stood up abruptly and said coldly, “You don’t know who you’re talking to, do you, Mr. Takamine.”
“Sure I do,” sneered the restaurateur, drawing himself up to his full height-perhaps four inches shorter than Phule-and standing face-to-face with him. “You’re the captain of this here Legion company. And when it comes to a quarrel between Legion and us poor locals, Legion sticks up for its own. Nothin’ we can do but eat whatever shit you pile on our plate.”
Phule put his finger in the middle of the man’s chest. “You won’t gain anything by using that kind of language, Mr. Takamine. I’ve offered to give you a chance to identify and confront the person you claim is responsible for the robbery and damage and for the injuries to yourself. Do you want to go ahead with this, or are you just here to make a disturbance?”
“I’ll look,” said the man. “But I ain’t expecting much, I tell you for a fact.”
Beeker led the policemen and Takamine to an outer office, where they could browse though the ID files. But Phule had a sinking feeling. The description of the legionnaire responsible sounded far too familiar. He’d thought the man had finally outgrown his penchant for getting into trouble with the law-at least, this kind of trouble. Well, if he had to teach the legionnaire a lesson, he’d do it, that was all.