“Because, if you help me find it and return it to Barton, you’ll be paid the sum of one hundred thousand dollars, cash on the barrelhead, tax free.”
“Since I know you don’t have that kind of cash in your safe, I assume it’s Barton’s money we’re talking about.”
“We are.”
Dino regarded him closely. “And how much is Barton paying you?”
“You have a suspicious nature, Dino.”
“I’m a police officer; I’m paid to be suspicious.”
“Well, the NYPD is not offering you a hundred grand to do this particular bit of police work.”
“A good point, but you still haven’t answered my question: How much is he paying you?”
“More than he’s paying you, but I have to do most of the work. And anyway, Barton isn’t paying you; I’m paying you out of what Barton pays me.”
“I have a feeling that I’m going to end up doing most of the work,” Dino said.
“All you have to do is quietly circulate a description of the piece among your brother officers, keeping it unofficial, of course.”
“And just how do I keep it unofficial?”
“I would suggest that you offer a portion of your reward, say ten percent, to whoever locates it.”
Dino stared at Stone. “Barton is paying you a million dollars to find it?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You’re paying me ten percent of what you’re getting, and I have to pay ten percent to some street cop?”
“Do you think this is a bad deal, Dino?”
“I think it’s an insufficiently good deal.”
“All right, what number would make you content enough with your lot, should we find the thing, that you would never feel it necessary to mention it to me again?”
“Two hundred grand.”
“And you’ll tip your help out of that?”
“Yes.”
“And you’ll never again mention to me the relative sums earned by the two of us in this endeavor?”
“Probably not.”
“Make that certainly not, and you’ve got a deal.”
“Deal. What do you want me to do?”
“Well, find the fucking thing, of course.”
“Any suggestions as to how?”
“You’re a police officer, remember?”
“I know that.”