“That’s what Spencer told me. Bernardi observed the operation but I can’t get hold of him.”
“The prick. As soon as I get to a phone I’ll try to find out what the hell is going on. Where can I reach you.”
“The precinct house probably. We’ll have to re-shuffle schedules and figure out how many uniformed men we can spare for door-to-door questioning. They’re taking our detectives away.”
“I heard. Edward, I’ll call if I learn anything. If I don’t call, it means I haven’t been able to reach Spencer or Bernardi.” Delaney nodded. Dr. Ferguson climbed into the back of the ambulance, and it went whining away. Lt. Dorfman was moving toward him, but the deputy commissioner came out of the darkness and clamped a hand on Delaney’s elbow. The Captain didn’t like to be touched; he tugged his arm gently away.
“Delaney?”
“Yes sir.”
“My name’s Broughton. B-r-o-u-g-h-t-o-n. I guess we never met.”
They had, but Delaney didn’t mention it. The two officers shook hands. Broughton, a thick, shapeless man, motioned Delaney toward the black limousine. He opened the back door, waved Delaney in, climbed in beside him.
“Go get a coffee, Jack,” he commanded the uniformed driver.
Then they were alone. Broughton offered a cigar but Delaney shook his head. The deputy lighted up furiously, the end of the cigar flaring, the car filling with harsh smoke.
“It’s a piece of shit,” he said angrily. “Why the hell can’t we get Havana cigars? We’re defeating Communism by smoking horse shit? What kind of insanity is that?”
He sat back, staring out the window at the sidewalk where someone had chalked an outline around the corpse before it was removed.
“A lot of flak on this one, Captain,” Broughton said loudly. “A lot of flak. The Commissioner cancelled a speech in Kansas City-Kansas City, for Chrissakes-and is flying back. You probably saw the Mayor’s aide. His Honor is on our ass already. And don’t think the fucking governor won’t get in the act. You know this Lombard-the guy who got hisself killed?”
“I read his statements in the newspapers and I saw him on television.”
“Yeah, he got the publicity. So you know what we’re up against. ‘Crime in the streets…no law and order…hoodlums and muggers running wild…shake up the police department…the Commissioner should resign…’ You know. The shithead was running for Mayor. Now he’s knocked off, and if we don’t pull someone in, it proves he was right. You understand how serious this is, Captain.”
“I consider every homicide serious.”
“Well…yeah…sure. But the politics involved. You understand that?”
“Yes sir.”
“All right. That’s one thing. Now the other thing…This killing couldn’t have happened at a worst time. You get the Commissioner’s memo about precinct detectives?”
“Memorandum four six seven dash B dated eight October; subject: Detective division, reorganization of? Yes sir, I received it.”
Broughton laughed shortly. “I heard about you, Delaney. Yeah, that’s the memo.” He belched suddenly, a ripe, liquid sound. He didn’t excuse himself, but scratched in his crotch. “All right, we’re pulling all the detectives out of the precinct houses. You’re next on the list. You got the notification?”
“Yes.”
“Starts on Monday. All detectives will be organized in special units-homicide-, burglary and larceny, truck thefts, hotel thefts, and so on. Uniformed officers will make the first investigation of a crime. You’re going to give your cops a crash course on what to look for. It’s all spelled out in a manual you’ll be getting. The investigating officers file a report. If it’s a major theft, say, involving more than $1,500 in money or goods, the detective unit takes over. If it’s a minor crime, say b-and-e or a mugging, the patrolman does what he can or reports it unsolvable. We tried it out in two test precincts, and we think it’s going to work. What do you think?”
“I don’t like it,” Delaney said promptly. “It takes detectives out of the precincts and out of the neighborhoods. Sometimes they make their best busts just by knowing the neighborhood-who’s missing, new hoods who have shown up, who’s been flashing a roll. And of course they all have their neighborhood informers. Now, as I understand it, one specialized detective unit might be covering as many as four or five precincts. I like the idea of uniformed men getting experience in investigation work. They’ll like that. They’ll be functioning like detectives-which is what most of them thought police work was all about, instead of taking old people to hospitals and settling family squabbles. But while they’re investigating and making out that preliminary report, they’re off the beat, and I’ll have less men on patrol and visible. I don’t like that.”
Broughton pried a fingertip roughly into one nostril, dug out some matter, rolled it into a ball between thumb and forefinger. He opened the car window and flicked it outside.
“Well, you’re going to have to live with it,” he said coldly. “At least for a year until we get some numbers and see what’s happening to our solution rates. But now this son of a bitch Lombard gets hit right in the middle of the change-over. So we have Homicide North still in existence, the new homicide unit covering your precinct, and you still got your precinct detectives. Jesus Christ, all those guys will be walking up each other’s heels, covering the same ground-and whose responsibility is it? It’s going to be as fucked up as a Chinese fire drill It is already. You got any ideas how to straighten it out?”
Delaney looked up in surprise. The final question had come so suddenly, so unexpectedly, that even though he had wondered about the reason for this private talk, he wasn’t prepared for the demand.
“Can you give me twenty-four hours to think it over? Maybe I can come up with something.”
“No good,” Broughton said impatiently. Right now I got to go out to the airport to pick up the Commissioner, and I got to have some suggestions on how to straighten out this mess. He’ll want action. The Mayor and every councilman will be leaning on him. And if he don’t produce, it’s probably his ass. And if it’s his ass, it’s my ass too. You understand?”
“Yes.”
“You agree that right now it’s screwed up as far as organization goes?”
“Yes.”
“Christ, you’re a regular chatterbox, ain’t you?” Broughton farted audibly and squirmed his buttocks on the car seat. “I been hearing how smart you are, Captain. Okay, here’s your chance; give me a for-instance right now.”
Delaney looked at him with distaste, recognizing the man’s crude energy but angered by his bullying, disgusted by his personal habits, sensing a personality that reeked of the jungle.
“Try a temporary horizontal organization,” he said tonelessly. “The Department, just like the army and most business corporations, is organized vertically. Responsibility and authority are vested in the man at the top, Orders come down the chain of command. Each division, precinct, unit, or whatever, has a definite assignment. But sometimes problems come up that can’t be solved by this type of organization. It’s usually a problem of limited duration that might never occur again. The Lombard homicide comes right in the middle of the reorganization of the detective division. All right, do what the army and most corporations do when they’re faced with a unique situation that doesn’t require a permanent organization. Set up a temporary task force. Call it ‘Operation Lombard,’ if you like. Appoint an overall commander. Give him full responsibility and authority to draw on any unit for personnel and equipment he needs. Detectives, patrolmen, specialists-anyone who’ll help him do the job The men are detached on a temporary basis. The whole operation r temporary. When and if Lombard’s killer is found, the task force is disbanded, and the men go back to their regular units.”
A light came into Broughton’s muddy eyes. He laughed with glee and rubbed his palms together between his knees.
“They weren’t kidding; you’re a smart son of a bitch, Delaney. I like it. And I think the Commissioner will like it. A special task force: ‘Operation Lombard.’ It’ll show we’re doing something-right? That should satisfy the Mayor and the newspapers. How long do you think it’ll take to break the Lombard thing?”