“Yes.”
“If you retired today, you’d still have plenty of time on your hands. And I know you; after almost thirty years in the Department, you’d go nuts. All right…Now it’s been three-no, almost four days since the Lombard homicide. It’s been almost three days since the formation of Operation Lombard. Since then, Broughton has been drawing men and equipment from all over the city. He’s built up a big organization, and it’s still growing. I told you, the man’s power-hungry. And I can also tell you that Broughton and Operation Lombard haven’t come up with a thing. Not a lead, not a clue, not a single idea of how it was done, why it was done, and who did it. Believe me, Edward, they’re no farther ahead at this moment than when you saw Lombard on the sidewalk.”
“That doesn’t mean they might not solve it tomorrow, tonight, or right now, while we’re talking.”
“True. And if Broughton brings it off, he’ll crucify us. I mean Ben here and me and our friends. Broughton may be stupid, but he’s shrewd. He knows who his enemies are. I tell you this man is capable of farming you out just because you suggested Operation Lombard from which he profited. He’s the kind of man who can’t stand to feel gratitude. He’ll cut you down…somehow.”
“He can’t touch me. I’m retiring.”
“Edward,” Inspector Johnson said in a deep, throbbing voice, “suppose you didn’t retire. Suppose you requested an indefinite leave of absence. We could swing it.”
“Why should I do that?”
“It would relieve you of the responsibility of the Two-five-one. We’d put in an Acting Captain. An Acting Captain. You wouldn’t be replaced. You agree it’s possible your wife may recover faster than anyone expects, and then you’d want back to active duty? That’s possible, isn’t it?”
“Yes. It’s possible.”
“All right,” Johnson said, seeming to look for words, to feel his way. “Now, say you’re on leave of absence. You’re relieved of responsibility. Now what we want you to do-” Then it all came out in rush: “Whatwewantyoutodoisfind-Lombard’skiller.”
“What?”
“You heard me. We want you to solve the Lombard homicide before Broughton and his Operation Lombard do it.” Delaney looked from man to man, astonished.
“Are you insane?” he finally demanded. “You want me, a single cop not even on active duty, working outside the Department like some kind of-some kind of private detective, you expect me to bring in Lombard’s killer before five hundred or a thousand detectives and uniformed men and specialists with all the resources of the Department behind them? Impossible.”
“Edward,” Thorsen said patiently. “We think there’s a chance. A small chance, true, but it’s worth taking. Yes, you’d have to work in civilian clothes. Yes, you’d be by yourself; you couldn’t request personnel from the Department, or equipment. But we’ll set up a contact, and through the contact we’ll make certain you got anything you’d need: print identification, evidence analysis, lab work, criminal records. Whatever you need, you’ll get. We’ll cover it somehow so Broughton doesn’t get wind of it. If he does, we’re all down the drain.”
“Listen,” Delaney said desperately, “is it only you two out to get Broughton or are there really a dozen others all the way up to the Commissioner?”
“There are others,” Thorsen said gravely, and Johnson nodded just as solemnly.
“It won’t work,” Delaney said definitely. He stood and began to pace back and forth, hands clasped behind him. “You know how many men you need for a homicide investigation like this? Men to search sewers. Men to dig in garbage cans. Men to ring doorbells and ask questions. Men to investigate Lombard’s private life, his business life, his political life. Men to trace him back to the day he was born, trying to find an enemy. How in God’s name could I-or any one man-do all that?”
“Edward,” Johnson said softly, “you wouldn’t have to do all that. That’s what Operation Lombard is doing right now, and I swear to you, you’d get a Xerox copy of every report filed. Anytime a patrolman or detective or specialist puts anything down on paper about the Lombard off, you’ll see a copy within twenty-four hours.”
“That’s a promise,” Thorsen nodded. “Just don’t ask how we’ll do it.”
“I won’t, I won’t,” Delaney said hastily. “But just what more do you think I could do than Operation Lombard is doing right now?”
“Edward,” Thorsen sighed, “don’t put yourself down. I remember once I had dinner at your house, and we were talking about something you had done and let your division commander take the credit for-you were a lieutenant then-and Barbara got angry and told you that you should assert yourself more. She was right. Edward, you have a talent, a drive, a genius-call it whatever the hell you like-for investigative work. You know it but won’t admit it. I know it and shout it every chance I get. It was my idea to bring you in on this, this way. If you say yes, fine. Then we’ll go to work. If you say no, and want to go through with your retirement, okay and no hard feelings.”
Delaney walked over to one of the windows and stared down into the crowded street. People were scurrying between honking cars in a traffic jam. There was bright movement, surge and thrust. He heard the horns, a siren, the far-off hoot of a liner putting to sea, the drone overhead of a plane slanting down to Kennedy Airport.
“No leads at all?” he asked, without turning around.
“None whatsoever,” Thorsen said. “Not a thing. Not even a theory that makes sense. A blank. A compete blank. Broughton is beginning to show the strain.”
Delaney turned around with a bleak smile. He looked at Inspector Johnson and spoke to him.
“Ben, I gave him the solution probability figures on homicide. You know how they drop off after forty-eight hours?”
“Yes,” Johnson nodded. “It’s been almost four days now, with probability dropping every minute for Broughton.”
“For me too,” Delaney said ruefully. “If I took this on,” he added hastily.
He turned back to the window, his hands jammed into his pockets now. He wished with all his heart he could discuss this with Barbara, as he had discussed every important decision in his career. He needed her sharp, practical, aggressive, female intelligence to probe motives, choices, possibilities, safeguards. He tried, he strained to put himself in her place, to think as she might think and decide as she might decide.
“I’d be in civilian clothes,” he said, his back to them. “Could I use my tin?”
“Yes,” Johnson said immediately. “But as little as possible.” Delaney began to realize how completely they had thought this out, planned it, worried it for flaws, before they approached him.
“How often would I report?”
“As often as possible. Once a day or, if not, whenever you have something or a request for something.”
“Who would I report to?”
“Me,” Thorsen said promptly. “I’ll give you a clean number.”
“Don’t tell me you think your home phone is tapped?”
“I’ll give you a clean number,” Thorsen repeated.
Delaney made up his mind and said what he thought Barbara would want him to say.
“If I’m on leave of absence but not retired, I can still be racked up on Departmental charges. If Broughton finds out about this, he’ll fix me good. I met the man. I know what he is. I’ll do what you want if I get a signed letter from either of you, or both of you, authorizing this investigation.”
He turned to face them. They looked at him, then at each other.
“Edward…” Thorsen started, then stopped.
“Yes?”
“It’s our ass.”
“I know it. Without the letter, it’s my ass. Mine alone. If Broughton discovers what’s going on.”
“Don’t you trust-” Thorsen began.
“Now wait just one fat minute,” Johnson held up his ham-hand. “Let’s not get all riled here and start talking about trust and friendship and saying things we might be sorry for later. Just let me think a minute. Edward has a very good point, Ivar. It’s something we didn’t consider. Now just let me think and see if I can come up with something that will satisfy all the parties concerned.”