Grave Digger perched a ham on the edge of the desk and cocked his head; but Coffin Ed backed against the wall into the shadow to hide his face, as was his habit when he expected the unexpected.

"You're to cover Deke O'Hara," Anderson read.

The two colored detectives stared at him, alert but unquestioning, waiting for him to go on and give the handle to the joke.

"He was released ten months ago from the federal prison in Atlanta."

"As who in Harlem doesn't know," Grave Digger said drily.

"Many people don't know that ex-con Deke O'Hara is Reverend Deke O'Malley, leader of the new Back-to-Africa movement."

"All right, omit the squares."

"He's on the spot; the syndicate has voted to kill him," Anderson said as if imparting information.

"Bullshit," Grave Digger said bluntly. "If the syndicate had wanted to kill him, he'd be decomposed by now."

"Maybe."

"What maybe? You could find a dozen punks in Harlem who'd kill him for a C-note."

"O'Malley's not that easy to kill."

"Anybody's easy to kill," Coffin Ed stated. "That's why we police wear pistols."

"I don't dig this," Grave Digger said, slapping his right thigh absentmindedly. "Here's a rat who stooled on his former policy racketeer bosses, got thirteen indicted by the federal grand jury — even one of us, Lieutenant Brandon over in Brooklyn — "

"There's always one black bean," Lieutenant Anderson said unwittingly.

Grave Digger stared at him. "Damn right," he said flatly.

Anderson blushed. "I didn't mean it the way you're thinking."

"I know how you meant it, but you don't know how I'm thinking."

"Well, how are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking do you know why he did it?"

"For the reward," Anderson said.