“He’d better have the right fingerprints and DNA profile, too,” said the cop. “Arrestin’ a citizen for something we can’t prove can get us in a lot of trouble.”
“Gee, you didn’t seem to worry about that when you thought the robber was a legionnaire,” said Sushi.
The cop glared at Sushi, but before he could say anything, Phule hissed, “Here he comes!”
They turned to look out the windshield along the street. Sure enough, here came a black-garbed figure, whose dark pompadour and long sideburns were visible even at a distance, rounding the corner just behind a young woman pushing a baby carriage. Dunstable pressed a communicator button to alert the indoor team, then turned to Phule and said, “That looks like the perp, all right. But like you said, there’s dozens of guys look like that. How do we know this is the one who robbed Takarnine’s joint?”
“This has got to be him,” said Sushi. “He’s the only member of the Church of the King who lives in this part of town. It’d be way too much of a coincidence for another one to show up here right when he’s due home from work.”
“You been a cop as long as I have, you seen lots of coincidences,” said Dunstable.
“Yeah, and I bet you arrest ’em anyway,” said Sushi. Then he said in a lower voice, as the suspect came closer, “Are you sure he can’t see us?”
“Not without he’s got X-ray eyes,” said the cop. “OK, he turns up the walk, we get out and cut off his escape, just in case he spots the inside team and spooks.”
The suspect came closer, strolling unconcernedly behind the baby carnage, and his features became clearer. Phule found himself thinking that, now that he had a reason to distinguish between dozens of King look-alikes, how easy it was to spot differences. This one, for example, was obviously of Asian ancestry, a fact the alteration of his features could not conceal. Phule was beginning to understand how computer image analysis could single out this one man from a crowd of faces that, to the casual eye, looked exactly the same.