Seeing by José Saramago — Read

THE THREE POLICEMEN DROVE AROUND THE CITY FOR A WHILE, FILLING in time until lunch, although they would not eat together. The plan was to park the car near an area where there were plenty of restaurants and then to go their separate ways, each to a different place, and meet exactly ninety minutes later in a square some way off, where the superintendent, this time at the wheel, would pick his subordinates up. Obviously, no one here knows who they are, besides, none of them has a capital P branded on his forehead, but common sense and prudence tell them not to wander around as a group through the center of a city which is, for many reasons, hostile to them. True, there are three men over there, and another three ahead of them, but a quick glance is enough to see that they are normal people, belonging to the common species of passer-by, ordinary folk, free of all suspicion of being representatives of the law or pursued by it.

During the drive, the superintendent wanted to hear his two subordinates' impressions of the man who had written the letter, making it clear, however, that he was not interested in any moral judgements, We know he's a bastard of the first order, so there's no point wasting time coming up with other descriptions. The inspector was the first to speak, saying that he had particularly admired the way in which the superintendent had directed the interrogation, skilfully omitting any reference to the malicious suggestion contained in the letter, that the doctor's wife, given her exceptional personal circumstances during the plague of blindness four years ago, could be the cause of or in some way implicated in the conspiracy that led to the capital's population casting blank votes. The guy was obviously completely thrown, he said, he was expecting that to be the main and possibly the only subject the police would be interested in, but how wrong he was. I almost felt sorry for him, he added.