“Well, use the resources at your command to motivate your subordinates to find it and do so discreetly enough that neither of us will ever get bitten on the ass by your superiors.”
“If I get booted off the force for doing this, I’m going to want more money.”
“We have a deal,” Stone said, “and we’re both sticking to it. Anyway, you need motivation for not getting caught using NYPD resources for your personal gain, and the risk of getting the boot might just meet that need.”
Dino looked at him narrowly.
“Do I make myself perfectly clear?”
“Okay, okay, but it seems to me I’m taking all the risks.”
“Do you remember what happened to Barton Cabot when he last possessed the secretary?”
“Yes.”
“Well, that could happen to me, too. That’s risk.”
“All right,” Dino said. “Do you have any leads?”
“There is something, but I’m going to have to violate a confidence in order to reveal it.”
“Will it make you bleed onto the tablecloth to tell me about it?”
“Metaphorically speaking.”
“Eight hundred grand ought to soothe your aching conscience a little.”
“It involves Bob Cantor.”
“I spoke to him yesterday,” Dino said.
“And I had lunch with him today, and you promised not to mention money to me again.”
“Tell me.”
“Bob served under Barton Cabot in the Marine Corps in Vietnam. Together with four other men, they stole something and got it back to the States, where they divided the proceeds.”
“What did they steal?”
“He wouldn’t tell me, just that it belonged to the South Vietnamese government.”
“Which doesn’t exist any more.”
“Right.”
“And this happened when, in the seventies?”
“Right.”
“So the statute of limitations has expired?”
“Right.”
“So, what’s he worried about?”
“The other three men.”
“You said there were four, plus Bob and Barton.”