He hung up and pushed the telephone back across the desk.
"I need a ride," he explained.
"Something wrong with your car? Hell, I'd have given you a ride, Inspector. You want to call and cancel that?"
"Thanks but no thanks," Wohl said.
"Well, then"-Spanner smiled-"how about a cup of coffee?"
"Thank you," Wohl said.
A Highway Patrol officer came marching through the Northwest Detectives squad room before Wohl had finished his coffee. Wohl left the unfinished coffee and followed him downstairs to the car.
"I need a ride to the Roundhouse," Wohl said, as he got in the front beside the driver. "You can drop me there."
"Yes, sir," the driver said.
They pulled out of the District parking lot and headed downtown on North Broad Street. Wohl noticed, as he looked around at the growing deterioration of the area, that the driver was scrupulously obeying the speed limit.
"If you were God," Wohl said to the driver, "or me, and you could do anything you wanted to, to catch the guy who's been assaulting the women in Northwest Philly-and I think we're talking about the same doer who forced the woman into the van last night-what would you do?"
The driver looked at him in surprise, and took his time before answering, somewhat uneasily. "Sir, I really don't know."
Wohl turned in his seat and looked at the Highway Patrol officer in the backseat. "What about you?"
The man in the backseat raised both hands in a gesture of helplessness.
"The way I hear, we're doing everything we know how."
"You think he's going to turn the woman loose?" Wohl asked.
"I dunno," the driver replied. "This is the first time he's… kept
… one."
"If you think of something, anything," Wohl said, "don't keep it to yourself. Tell Captain Pekach, or Captain Sabara, or me."
"Yes, sir," the driver said.
"Something wrong with this unit?" Wohl asked.
"Sir?"
"Won't it go faster than thirty-five?"
The driver looked at him in confusion.
"Officer Hawkins says it was the civilian who ran the stoplight last night," Wohl said. "I believe him. We're looking for witnesses to confirm Hawkins's story."
The driver didn't react for a moment. Then he pushed harder on the accelerator and began to move swiftly through the North Broad Street traffic.
With a little luck, Wohl thought, these guys will have a couple of beers with their pals when their tour is over, and with a little more luck, it will have spread through Highway by tomorrow morning that maybe Inspector Wohl ain't the complete prick people say he is; that he asked for advice; said he believed Hawkins; and even told the guy driving him to the Roundhouse to step on it.
ELEVEN
As they drove down Delaware Avenue Officer Charley McFadden pushed himself off the backseat of Staff Inspector Peter Wohl's car and rested his elbows on the backrest of the front seat.
"I never been in an Inspector's car before," he said, happily. " Nice."
"It certainly doesn't look like a police car, does it?" Matt Payne, who was driving, said.
McFadden looked at him curiously.
"It's not supposed to," Jesus Martinez said, and then put into words what was in his mind. "Where'd you come from, if you don't mind my asking?"
"The Academy," Matt said.
"You was teaching at the Academy?"
"I was going through the Academy," Matt said. "I was on the range yesterday When Chief Matdorf came out and told me to report to Highway in plainclothes this morning."
"I'll be goddamned," Charley McFadden said, and then added, "we was in Narcotics. Hay-zus and me. We were partners, working undercover."
"For the last week, we were over in the Twelfth District, catching guys robbing stuff from parked cars," Jesus said. "I wonder what the hell this is all about?"
Both Matt Payne and Charley McFadden shrugged their shoulders.
"We're gonna find out, I guess."
"Where we're going is to that area behind the fence on the way to the Academy, right?" Matt asked.
"Yeah," Martinez said.
"I sure like your wheels," Charley said. "Porsche, huh?"
"Nine Eleven T," Matt said.
"What did something like that set you back?" Charley asked.
"Christ, Charley!" Martinez said. "You don't go around asking people how much things cost."
"I was just curious, Hay-zus, is all," Charley said. "No offense."
"I don't know what it cost," Matt said. "It was a present. When I graduated from college."
"Nicepresent!" Charley said.
"I thought so," Matt said. "What do you call him? Hay-zus?"
"That's his name," Charley said. "It's spick for Jesus."
"Spanish,you fucking Mick," Jesus Martinez said.
"I didn't get your name," Charley said, ignoring him.
"Matt Payne," Matt said.
Charley put his hand down over Matt's shoulder.
"Nice to meet you," Charley said as Matt shook it.
"Me, too," Jesus said, offering his hand.
They were able to draw two cars-both new Plymouths, one blue, and the other a dark maroon-from the Police Motor Pool without trouble, but when they got to the Police Radio Shop in the 800 block of South Delaware Avenue, things did not go at all smoothly.
It even began badly. The man in coveralls in the garage examined all three cars carefully as they drove in, and then returned his attention to what he was doing, which was readingPopular Electronics.
He did not look up as, one after the other, Matt, Jesus, and Charley walked up to stand in front of his desk.
"Excuse me." Matt spoke first. "I have Inspector Wohl's car."
"Good for you," the man said without looking up.
"You're supposed to install some communications equipment in it," Matt said.
"I ain't seen nothing on it," the man said. "You got the paperwork?"
"No," Matt said. "I'm afraid I wasn't given any."
"Well, then," the man said, returning toPopular Electronics.
"My instructions are to wait while the work is done," Matt said.
"And my instructions are no paperwork, no work," the man said. "And we don't do work while people wait. Who the hell do you guys think you are, anyway?"
"We're from Special Operations," Matt said.
"La dee da," the man said.
"Well, I'm sorry you fell out of bed on the wrong side," Matt said, " but that doesn't help me with my problem. Where can I find your supervisor?"
"I'm in charge here," the man flared.
"Good, then you pick up the telephone and call Inspector Wohl and tell him what you told me."
"What are you, some kind of a wiseass?"
Matt didn't reply.
"You can leave the car here, and when the paperwork catches up with it, we'll see what we can do," the man said.
"May I use your telephone, please?" Matt asked.
"What for?"
"So I can call Inspector Wohl, and tell him that not only are you refusing to do the work, but refusing, as well, to telephone him to say so."
The man gave him a dirty look, then reached for the telephone. He dialed a number.
"Sergeant, I got a hotshot here, says he's from Special Operations, without a sheet of paperwork, and demanding we do something-I don't know what-to three unmarked cars."
There was a reply, unintelligible, and then the man handed Matt the telephone.
"This is Sergeant Francis," the voice said. "What can I do for you?"
"My name is Payne. I'm assigned to Special Operations, and there has apparently been a breakdown in communications somewhere," Matt said. " I'm here with three unmarked cars, one of them Inspector Wohl's. Somebody was to have telephoned down here to arrange all this."
"I don't know anything about it," Sergeant Francis said. "Why don't you go back where you came from and ask somebody?"