"Can you repeat it, please? Procedure."
"Why?"
"Can't really say, sir. It's procedure."
Art thought about arguing, but managed to control the impulse. The man was a cop, he was a foreigner — albeit a thoroughly documented one — and what would it cost? He'd probably left something out anyway.
He retold the story from the top, speaking slowly and clearly. PC McGivens aimed his comm Artwards, and tapped out the occasional note as Art spoke.
"Thank you sir. Now, once more, please?"
Art blew out an exasperated sigh. His feet hurt, and his bladder was swollen with drink. "You're joking."
"No sir, I'm afraid not. Procedure."
"But it's stupid! The guys who tried to mug us are long gone, I've given you their descriptions, you have their *identification* —" But they didn't, not yet. The wallet still lay where Art had dropped it.
PC McGivens shook his head slowly, as though marveling at the previously unsuspected inanity of his daily round. "All very true, sir, but it's procedure. Worked out by some clever lad using statistics. All this, it increases our success rate. 'Sproven."