"You don't have to apologize," Grave Digger said roughly. "You're not getting paid to get killed."

In the green light Lieutenant Anderson's face turned slightly purple. "Well, hell," he said defensively. "I'm on your side. I know what you're up against here in Harlem. I know your beat. It's my beat too. But the commissioner feels you've killed too many people in this area — " He held up his hand to ward off an interruption. "Hoodlums, I know — dangerous hoodlums — and you killed in self-defence. But you've been on the carpet a number of times and a short time ago you had three months' suspensions. Newspapers have been yapping about police brutality in Harlem and now various civic bodies have taken up the cry."

"It's the white men on the force who commit the pointless brutality," Coffin Ed grated. "Digger and me ain't trying to play tough."

"We are tough," Grave Digger said.

Lieutenant Anderson shifted the papers on the desk and looked down at his hands. "Yes, I know, but they're going to drop it on you two — if they can. You know that as well as I do. All I'm asking is to play it safe, from the police side. Don't take any chances, don't make any arrests until you have the evidence, don't use force unless in self-defence, and above all don't shoot anyone unless it's the last resort."

"And let the criminals go," Coffin Ed said.

"The commissioner feels there must be some other way to curtail crime besides brute force," the lieutenant said, his blush deepening.

"Well, tell him to come up here and show us," Coffin Ed said.

The arteries stood out in Grave Digger's swollen neck and his voice came out cotton dry. "We got the highest crime rate on earth among the colored people in Harlem. And there ain't but three things to do about it: Make the criminals pay for it — you don't want to do that; pay the people enough to live decently-you ain't going to do that; so all that's left is let 'em eat one another up."