"There's ginger ale, Hay-zus," Matt said. "I don't think there's any Coke."
He went to the refrigerator and found a small bottle of ginger ale and handed it to Martinez.
"Thank you."
"Hay-zus thinks he's found a dirty cop at the airport," McFadden said.
Then he probably has. But why tell me?
"Tell Internal Affairs," Matt said.
"I can't go to Internal Affairs. I haven't caught him doing anything, but I got the gut feeling he's dirty," Martinez said.
"I don't understand what you're doing here," Matt said.
"Charley said I should talk to you."
"I don't have the faintest idea what you're talking about," Matt said. "You want to take it from the beginning?"
"Tell him what you told me, Hay-zus," Charley said, lowering himself with a grunt into Matt's upholstered chair.
"There's a corporal out there," Jesus said. "A flashy Guinea named Lanza, Vito Lanza."
Matt did not reply.
"Just bought himself a new Cadillac," Jesus said. "You can't buy a Caddy on a corporal's pay."
"Maybe his number hit," Matt said, slightly sarcastic.
"He said he won the money in Las Vegas," Jesus said.
'That's possible," Matt said.
"Look at him. He won six thousand when he was out there," McFadden said.
"Yeah, I thought about that. But he's not Lanza."
"What does that mean?" Matt asked.
"You're fucking rich. You don't really give a shit whether you win or lose, and you came home with only six thousand."
"Onlysix thousand? I wish to Christ I had won six thousand," Charley said.
"There's more," Jesus said.
"Like what more?"
"He had almost ten thousand in cash, ninety-four hundred, to be exact, in his car tonight."
"How do you know that?"
"I looked."
"What do you mean, you looked?"
"When Charley and I were in Narcotics, we stopped a guy one night and took a car thief's friend from him," Jesus said. "I kept it."
A car thief's friend, sometimes called a "Slim-Jim," was a flat piece of metal, most commonly stainless steel, suitably shaped so that when inserted into an automobile door, sliding it downward in the window channel, it defeated the door lock.
"In other words, you broke into this guy's car, is that what you' re saying?"
"Yeah, and he had ninety-four hundred dollars in an envelope in the glove compartment, an ashtray full of cigarette butts with lipstick on them, and this."
Martinez threw something at Matt who caught it. It was a book of matches.Oaks and Pines Resort Lodge.
"What's this?"
"It's a fancy place in the Poconos," Jesus said.
"So?"
"I called a guy I know in Vice and asked him did he ever hear about it, and he told me that there's a room in the back for high rollers; that the word is that the Mob owns it."
"So?"
"This doesn't smell to you, Payne?" Martinez said, seemingly torn between surprise and contempt.
"I take back what I said before. You should not go to Internal Affairs. What you have is a guy that gambles. At this lodge, and in Las Vegas. And right now, he's lucky. The only thing I can see he's done illegally is gamble in the Poconos. That's a misdemeanor, as opposed to a felony. Like being in possession of burglar tools is a felony."
"What did I tell you he'd say, Hay-zus?" Charley McFadden said.
"I got thefeeling, Charley," Jesus said. "This guy is dirty."
"What's he doing?"
"They're smuggling drugs through the airport, most likely off Eastern Airlines flights from Puerto Rico, and probably from Mexico City flights too."
"Youknow this?"
"Everybody knows it, Matt," Charley said. "The feds, Customs Service, and the Bureau of Drugs and Dangerous Narcotics…"
"Narcotics and Dangerous Drugs," Jesus interrupted to correct him.
"Whatever the fuck they are, they're all over the place."
"They haven't caught this guy, then, have they?" Matt responded.
"Iwant to catch this fucker," Jesus said.
You're not a detective, Martinez- You're a simple police officer who took the detective's exam and flunked it.
You are an arrogant, self-satisfied shit, aren't you, Matthew Payne? Martinez is not only not a rookie, he's spent a lot of time dealing with drug people when he was in Narcotics. He knows what he's talking about.
"What do you want from me, Hay-zus?"
"I told him he ought to go to Wohl," Charley said. "He says he doesn't want to."
"Why not?" Matt asked, meeting Martinez's eyes.
"I don't work for Wohl anymore, for one thing. And even if I did, how the hell could I go to Wohl and tell him the reason I know this fucker runs around with almost ten thousand in his glove compartment is because I looked?"
"'Broke into his car' are the words you're looking for," Matt said.
"I told Hay-zus Wohl, or at least Pekach, would listen to him. And he could tell them the car was unlocked."
"That's splitting a hair," Matt thought out loud. "That wouldn't wash with either Wohl or Pekach. And I suppose you know that if you'd found ten thousand dollars' worth of cocaine in his glove compartment, it would be inadmissible evidence."
"Hey, I was a Narc when you were Mr. Joe College Payne," Jesus said. "I know what's admissible and what isn't."
"Hay-zus, you don't have a thing on this guy," Matt said.
"He wants to follow him, andget something on him," Charley said.
"You mean, he wantsus to surveil this guy, right?"
"I told you he'd tell us to go fuck ourselves," Martinez said.
"He can't do it himself, this Dago knows him."
"We're wasting our time. Let's get out of here," Martinez said.
"Hay-zus is usually right, when he smells something," McFadden went on.
"Come on, let's get out of here," Martinez repeated.
"What do you expect to find, Martinez, if we start to follow this guy around?" Matt asked.
"Association with known criminals," Martinez said. "That would give me enough to go to Wohl or Internal Affairs."
He keeps bringing up Wohl. Why? He doesn't work for Wohl anymore. But I do. That's what this is all about. He figures I could go to Wohl.
"For the sake of argument, Hay-zus," Matt said. "Let's suppose we follow this guy, and either he spots us before we catch him with some Mob type, or that you're wrong. He'd really be pissed. And we would have some explaining to do."
"In other words, no, right?"
"I didn't say that," Matt said. "I said what if."
"Then I would take my lumps."
"Weall would takeour lumps," Matt said.
"This guy is dirty," Martinez said. "We're cops."
Matt exhaled audibly.
"What have you got in mind?"
"You don't look like a cop," Martinez said. "You drive a Porsche. You could get into this place in the Poconos."
"How would we know when he was going to be there? And if we did, what am I supposed to do, tell Wohl I want the day off to take a ride to the Poconos?"
"I don't think he'd be going up there in the daytime," Martinez said. "Except over the weekend. He's got Friday-Saturday off. With a little bit of luck, he'd go up there then."
"And what if he just came across this book of matches someplace? Picked it up in a bar or something? You don'tknow that he's ever even been in this place." Matt picked up the matchbook. "Oaks and Pines Resort Lodge."
"Then I'll think of something else," Martinez said.
"Okay, Hay-zus," Matt said. "Let me know what you want me to do, and when you want me to do it."