The Highway Sergeant got to his feet when he saw Wohl, and after a moment, Frizell followed suit.
"Good morning, Inspector," the Highway Sergeant said.
"Good morning," Wohl said. "What do you say, Mickey? You waiting to see somebody?"
"You," O'Hara said.
"Well, then, come on in," Wohl said. "You can watch me drink a cup of coffee." He turned to look at the Highway Sergeant. "Thereis coffee?"
"Yes, sir," the Sergeant said. "Sir, Chief Coughlin wants you to phone as soon as you get in."
"Get me and Mickey a cup of coffee, and then get the Chief on the line," Wohl ordered.
Captains Sabara and Pekach were in what until yesterday had been the office of the Commanding Officer of Highway Patrol, and what was now, until maybe other accommodations could be found, the office of the Commanding Officer of Special Operations Division. Sabara, who was wearing black trousers and plain shoes, and not the motorcyclist's boots of Highway, was sitting in an armchair. Pekach, who was wearing Highway boots, and a Sam Browne belt, was sitting across from him on a matching couch.
They both started to get up when they saw Wohl. He waved them back into their seats.
"Good morning," Wohl said.
"Good morning, Inspector," they both said. Wohl wondered if that was, at least on Mike Sabara's part, intended to show him that he was pissed, or whether it was in deference to the presence of Mickey O' Hara.
"Chief Coughlin wants you to call him as soon as you get in," Sabara said.
"The sergeant told me," Wohl said. "Well, anything new?"
"No van and no woman," Sabara said.
"Damn!" Peter said.
"I called the hospital just a moment ago," Pekach said. "We have two still on the critical list, one of ours and the wife. The other two, the husband and our guy, are 'stabilized' and apparently out of the woods."
The Highway Sergeant came in and handed first Wohl and then Mickey O' Hara a china mug of coffee.
"Nothing on the woman? Or the van?Nothing?" Wohl asked.
"All we have for a description is a dark van, either a Ford or a Chevy," Sabara said. "That's not much."
One of the two telephones on Wohl's desk buzzed. He looked at it to see which button was illuminated, punched it, and picked up the handset.
"Inspector Wohl," he said.
"Dennis Coughlin, Peter," Chief Coughlin said.
"Good morning, sir."
"You got anything?"
"Nothing on the van or the woman," Peter said. "Pekach just talked to the hospital. We have one civilian, the wife, and one police officer on the critical list. The husband and the other cop are apparently out of danger."
"Have you seen the paper? TheLedger, especially?"
"No, sir."
"You should have a look at it. You'll probably find it interesting," Coughlin said. "Keep me up to date, up to the moment, Peter."
"Yes, sir," Peter said.
He heard Coughlin hang the phone up.
"Has anybody seen theLedger!" Peter asked.
Pekach picked up a folded newspaper from beside him on the couch, walked across the room to Wohl's desk and laid it out for him.
There was a three-column headline, halfway down the front page, above a photograph of the wrecked cars.
SPEEDING HIGHWAY PATROL CAR KILLS FOUR-YEAR-OLD
Below the photograph was a lengthy caption:
This Philadelphia Highway Patrol car, racing to the scene of a reported abduction, ran a red light on Second Street at Olney Ave. and smashed into the side of a 1970 Chevrolet sedan at 8:45 last night, killing Stephen P. McAvoy, Jr., aged four, of the 700 block of Garland Street, instantly. His father and mother, Stephen P., 29, and Mary Elizabeth McAvoy, 24, were taken to Albert Einstein Northern Division Hospital, where both are reported in critical condition. Both policemen in the police car were seriously injured.
The tragedy occurred the day after Peter Wohl, a Police Department Staff Inspector, was given command of the Highway Patrol, in a move widely believed to be an attempt by Commissioner Taddeus Czernick to tame the Highway Patrol, which has been widely criticized in recent months.
(More photos and the full story on page 10A. The tragedy is also the subject of today's editorial.)
Peter shook his head and looked around the office.
"We didn't run the stop light," David Pekach said. "The guy in the Ford ran it."
Peter met his eyes.
"Hawkins told me the light had just turned green as he approached Olney Avenue," Pekach said. "I believe him. He was too shook up to lie."
"He was driving?" Peter asked.
"Nobody's going to believe that," Mickey O'Hara said. "You guys better find a witness."
"1 hope we're working on that," Wohl said.
"I've got guys ringing doorbells," Pekach said.
"How's theBulletin handling this story, Mickey?" Wohl asked.
"It wasn't quite as bad as that," Mickey O'Hara said. "Cheryl Davies wrote the piece. But I'm here for a statement."
"We deeply regret the tragedy," Wohl said. "The incident is under investigation."
O'Hara shrugged. "Why did I suspect you would say something like that?" he said.
"It's the truth," Wohl said. "It's all I have to give you."
"What about the abducted female? The Northwest Philly rapist? On oroff therecord," O'Hara said.
Wohl's phone buzzed again, and he picked it up.
"Inspector Wohl," he said.
"Taddeus Czernick, Peter. How are you?"
"Good morning, Commissioner," Peter said.
Both Pekach and Sabara got up, as if to leave.
Probably, Peter thought, because they figure if they leave, Mickey O 'Hara will take the hint and leave with them.
He waved them back into their seats. "Fine, sir. How about yourself?"
"It looks as if we sent you over at just the right time," Czernick said. "You've seen the papers?"
"Yes, sir. I just finished reading theBulletin."
"A terrible thing to have happened," Czernick said, "in more ways than one."
"Yes, sir, it is."
"Anything on the missing woman?"
"No, sir."
"Well, I have full confidence in your ability to handle whatever comes up; otherwise we wouldn't have sent you over there. But let me know if there's anything at all that I can do."
"Thank you, sir."
"The reason I'm calling, Peter-"
"Yes, sir?"
"Colonel J. Dunlop Mawson called me yesterday afternoon. You know who I mean?"
"Yes, sir."
"Under the circumstances, if you take my meaning, we can use all the friends we can get."
"Yes, sir."
"He has a client, a woman named Martha Peebles. Chestnut Hill. Very wealthy woman. Has been burglarized. Isbeing burglarized. She is not happy with the level of police service she's getting from the Fourteenth District and/or Northwest Detectives. She complained to Colonel Mawson, and he called me. Got the picture?"
"I'm not sure," Peter said.
"I think it would be a very good idea, Peter," Commissioner Czernick said, "if police officers from the Special Operations Division visited Miss Peebles and managed to convince her that the Police Departmentstrike that,Special Operations -is taking an avid interest in her problems, and is doing all that can be done to resolve them."
"Commissioner, right now, Special Operations is me and Mike Sabara and Sergeant Whatsisname-Frizell."
"I don't care how you do this, Peter," Czernick said, coldly. "Just do me a favor and do it."
"Yes, sir."
"I seem to recall that Denny Coughlin got me to authorize the immediate transfer to you of forty volunteers. For openers."
"Yes, sir."
"Well then, you ought to have some manpower shortly,"