Call Him Nemesis — Story, Setting & Ideas

The Bank Robbery as Set Piece

The opening sequence is a masterclass in controlled chaos. Westlake lists every person in the bank by name and role, from the dozing guard Mr. Anderson to the grocery-store errand boy Charlie Casale. The robbers are described as looking "like triplets" in their scuffy shoes and khaki trousers, a uniformity that depersonalizes them. The gunshot that hits a brass plate on Mr. Featherhall's desk is a small, telling detail—a miss that underscores the tension between professional crime and amateur panic. The guard escapes out the front door, and Miss English's impulsive dash is both brave and reckless. The scene is tightly wound, every character given a moment to act or react, building a sense of imminent violence that never fully detonates.

Interrogation and the Costumed Witness

Judy Canzanetti's questioning reveals a different kind of crime: a Halloween gang fight observed from a corner. The four men—two FBI agents with "bleak bony faces like cowboys," a worried detective, and a cheerful reporter—press her for details about a boy in a black-and-gold costume. Judy recalls the boy's outfit with striking clarity: "tight black pants and a yellow shirt and a black cape and a funny kind of mask." The reporter's awed reaction—"My God, a costume"—hints at something more than a child's Halloween play. The boy, called Eddie, ran toward the fight and vanished afterward. The interrogation circles the same ground, but Judy can only offer fragments: the costume, the name Eddie, the fact that the kids were not from the neighborhood. The scene is a study in frustration, as the authorities grasp at a phantom.

Patterns of Crime and Vigilante Shadows

The novella's structure—a bank robbery followed by a gang fight—creates a world where crime is routine and law enforcement is reactive. The FBI agents and detective are competent but limited, relying on a teenage lookout's memory. The costumed boy, Eddie, is a wild card: he appears at both scenes? The excerpts do not confirm his presence at the bank, but the title "Call Him Nemesis" and the catalog subject "vigilantes" suggest he may be the Scorpion mentioned in the subtitle. Westlake uses small details—the brass plate, the black satchel, the knit cap—to anchor the story in a gritty, specific reality. The reader is left to piece together connections between the heist, the gang fight, and the elusive boy in black and gold. The narrative withholds full explanation, relying on implication and the tension of incomplete information.

Westlake's prose is lean and observational, favoring concrete details over interior monologue. The story moves between set pieces—the bank, the interrogation room—without explicit transitions, trusting the reader to follow the shifts. Pay attention to the recurring motifs of masks, costumes, and mistaken identity; they are not merely atmospheric but central to the plot's mechanics. The novella is a tight, efficient thriller that rewards close attention to its small, telling moments.

There’s something about that boy Eddie, the way a costume can hide a truth you’re not ready to see. It reminded me of another kind of escape, the quiet thrill of a boy who climbs into an airship and leaves the ground entirely. That old hunger for flight still lingers here, in Tom Swift in Captivity, Or, A Daring Escape By Airship — A Reader’s Guide, a gentler echo of the same restless longing.