I wonder what Sabara wants with me? He was there when Wohl told me I would be working with Jack Malone. And Malone left a message on the machine that he wanted to see me at eight.
Five minutes later, the door opened and Mike Sabara stuck his head out. Then, surprised, he saw Matt.
"Hi, Matt. You waiting to see me?"
"Sir, Sergeant Rawlins told me you wanted to see me."
"Come on in," Sabara said, and then added, to Rawlins, "Sergeant, if you see the inspector before I do, would you have him call Chief Coughlin?"
"Yes, sir."
Sabara closed the door to his office behind him.
"Sergeant Rawlins comes to us highly recommended from Criminal Records," he said dryly. "That 'see the captain business' is so either the inspector or I can eyeball newcomers. It didn't apply to you, obviously, and he should have known that. I'm already getting the feeling that he's every bit as bright as that Sergeant Henkels we got stuck with. Does that tell you enough, or should I draw a diagram?"
"I think I get the point, sir."
"Well, our time is not entirely wasted. This gives me the chance to tell you that the inspector was impressed with Sergeant O'Dowd, so for the time being, he'll be working for Jack Malone too, full-time, on the lunatic. And so will Washington, although, of course, with the Black Buddha, the way we say that is 'will be workingwith.'"
"Yes, sir," Matt said, chuckling.
"I think catching this lunatic with the bomb is the first thing that's really interested Jason since Wohl transferred him here. He and Malone are going, maybe have gone, to Intelligence. I don't know what Malone has planned for you, but I think you'd better go down there and see."
"Yes, sir."
"Matt, that was a good job on the lunatic profile."
"That was my sister, not me," Matt said, "but thank you anyway."
"I'm glad you're back. You-or at least your car-lends the place some class."
"I'm driving my Volkswagen, Captain."
"Get out of here," Sabara said.
Matt went back in the outer office as Staff Inspector Wohl came into it from the corridor.
Sergeant Rawlins stood up.
"Good morning, Inspector," he said. "Sir, Captain Sabara said that you are to call Chief Coughlin at your earliest opportunity. And, sir, this is Detective Payne."
"Is it?" Wohl asked, a wicked gleam in his eye.
"Good morning, sir," Matt said.
"Good morning, Detective Payne," Wohl said, and then turned to Rawlins. "Is Captain Sabara in there?"
"Yes, sir. He just interviewed Detective Payne."
"I'm sorry I missed that," Wohl said, and went into his office.
"Did the captain happen to tell you where you will be working, Detective?" Rawlins asked.
"For Lieutenant Malone," Matt said.
"That would be in Plans and Training," Rawlins replied, after consulting an organizational chart. "I'll make a note of that."
"What can I do for you?" Sergeant Maxwell Henkels demanded, making it more of a challenge than a question, as Detective Matthew M. Payne walked through a door on the second floor of the building, above which hung a sign,Plans and Training Section.
Henkels was just this side of fat, a flabby man who could have been anywhere from forty to fifty, florid-faced, with what Matt thought of as booze tracks on his nose.
"I'm looking for Lieutenant Malone, Sergeant."
"What for, and who are you?"
Why, I'm the visiting inspector for the Courtesy in Police Work Program, Sergeant. And you have just won the booby prize.
"My name is Payne, Sergeant. Detective Payne."
"The lieutenant and Sergeant Washington were waiting for you," Henkels said. "When you didn't show up, they went to Intelligence. He wants you to meet him there."
"I just transferred in this morning…"
"Yeah, I heard."
"…and the administrative sergeant said I had to report to Captain Sabara before I came here."
"You should have called me," Sergeant Henkels said. "You're to let me know where you are all the time, understand?"
Oh, shit!
Matt nodded.
"Did Lieutenant Malone say anything about a car for me?"
"No."
"I'd better get going."
Sergeant Henkels snorted.
Matt went down the corridor, the oiled wooden boards of which creaked under his footsteps, to another former classroom, this one now the office space provided for the Special Investigations Section of the Special Operations Division. He knew he could both use the phone there and receive a friendly welcome.
This time the uniformed sergeant behind the door was smiling genuinely.
"I told you he'd show up here," Sergeant Jerry O'Dowd said to Officer Foster H. Lewis, Jr., who was even larger than Sergeant Jason Washington, and thus had inevitably been dubbed "Tiny."
"I didn't expect to find you here," Matt said. "You guys know each other?"
"His dad was my first sergeant on my first job out of the Academy," O'Dowd said. "I knew him before he ate the magic growth pills."
"Hey, Matt," Tiny Lewis said, "welcome home."
They shook hands.
"Sergeant Rawlins just introduced me to Inspector Wohl," Matt said.
"Introduced you to Wohl?" Tiny asked.
"That was after my 'welcome to Special Operations' speech from Sabara. Andthen I met Sergeant Henkels."
Lewis and O'Dowd chuckled.
"Which is why I decided to hang out up here," O'Dowd said,
"Was…is…Malone and/or Washington looking for me?" Matt asked.
"Was," Tiny said.
"They went down to Intelligence," Jerry O'Dowd explained.
"What they wanted to tell you was that I'm now working for Malone, and we're going to work together."
Well, that's good news. And I really appreciate "work together"; he had every right to say "you 'II be working for me."
"Doing what?"
"Right now, we're waiting for the phone to ring," O'Dowd said, pointing to a desk with a brand-new telephone on it. "That's new. That's the number we're asking people to call in case they think they have a line on our lunatic. If it sounds at all…what? credible? possible?…we're to go talk to the guy who called it in, and then, if it still looks promising, call Washington and/or Sabara and/or Pekach."
"In that case, I guess I've got time for a cup of coffee."
"You'll have to make it," Tiny said, pointing at the coffee machine. "Unless you want to drink that black whatever from the machine."
"I'll make it," Matt said.
"Rough night, Detective Payne?" O'Dowd asked.
"At half past one," Matt said, more to Tiny Lewis than to O'Dowd, "Detective McFadden and Officer Martinez paid a social call."
"What did Mutt and Jeff have on their minds, so-called?" Tiny asked.
I cannot tell either of them what Hay-zus has in mind. Is that deceit or discretion?
"Not much," Matt said. "I think they simply decided that I should not be asleep while they were awake."
"Tough about Hay-zus failing the detective exam," Tiny said.
"Yeah, that surprised me," Matt said.
He went to the coffee machine, picked up the water reservoir and went down the corridor to the door with BOYS lettered on it, and filled it.
Matt Payne, mostly privately, was very much aware of his inadequate capabilities to be a detective. It was a long list of characteristics he didn't have, including experience, but headed by impatience. He had learned, even before Jason Washington had made the point aloud, that a good detective absolutely has to have nearly infinite patience.
The special line telephone did not ring, after either the Highway patrols had come off their seven P.M. to three A.M. tour, or the district patrols had come off their midnight-to-eight tours. Neither did Malone nor Washington call.
His new assignment as one of the inner circle of Special Operations people looking for the lunatic who wanted to disintegrate the Vice President was turning out to be just as thrilling as his assignment as recovered stolen car specialist in East Detectives had been.