“Yes.”
“I guess he’s a cinch for reelection.”
“He’s very popular.”
“He’s getting to be pretty popular here in Philadelphia, too. A lot of people are starting to listen to what he has to say.”
“Your own mayor is popular, isn’t he?”
“What, O’Dowd?” The policeman frowned. “My position, I’m not supposed to have anything to say about the mayor.”
“It’s a free country.”
“A lot freer these days if you don’t happen to be a cop.” He swung his nightstick absently against the palm of his hand. “Put it this way, if they held an election tomorrow O’Dowd wouldn’t stand a chance.”
“Is that so?”
“He’s popular with a certain element. Why the hell not, he wants to give them the whole city on a platter. I shouldn’t be talking like this.”
“I’m from out of town.”
“Yeah, and it’s a free country. Freedom of speech, unless you happen to work hard and pay your taxes and try to live decent. Then they expect you to keep your mouth shut. My old man was on the force. Also an uncle, one of my mother’s brothers — as a matter of fact he’s still on the force. I grew up taking it for granted that I would be a cop. I never even thought of being anything else. If I knew it was gonna be like this.”
“It must be very difficult.”
“You wouldn’t believe it.” He looked at Dorn. “At least where you’re from they let law enforcement people do their job. They don’t handcuff them. I’ll give you an example. We had a situation here the other day that didn’t even make the papers, but to give you an idea. This buck over in the center city had himself a skinful and decided to stick a knife in his wife. Whether she was actually his wife or not I couldn’t say. Anyway, he takes a knife this long and sticks it in her. Lucky he doesn’t kill her. So naturally somebody calls us, and they send a car around and rush her to the hospital and take him downtown.
“Now this is no civil rights thing, is it? I mean it’s a case of a man cutting up a woman. ADW, assault with a deadly weapon, maybe attempted second-degree homicide if the district attorney has a hair up, which he usually doesn’t. But nine times out of ten it’s nothing at all because the wife decides she loves him and says she fell on the knife, or she stabbed herself, or whatever the hell she says, and the charges are dropped. But it’s no civil rights thing, it’s no police brutality.
“Listen to this. They surround the police car. Dozens of people. They start rocking it, they won’t let ‘em take this drunk downtown. So one of the guys in the car calls downtown and explains the situation. ‘Let him go,’ the order comes back. ‘But he’s drunk and he wants to kill people.’ ‘It doesn’t matter, let him go.’
“So they let him go. And the crowd lets the cops go, and they drive away. But that’s not enough for these people. They go nuts, the rocks start flying, the store windows go. Black, white, it doesn’t matter who owns these businesses. It’s a hot night and this is an easy way to pick up a free television set and a few quarts of Scotch. So everybody starts looting.
“And we do nothing because our hands are tied. ‘Let ‘em loot. Let ‘em cool down by theirselves.’ So in a couple hours they have all the liquor and clothes and television sets they want and they go home, and there’s no big story for the papers, and all over the country people look at Philly and say ‘O’Dowd knows how to keep things cool.’ All he keeps cool is the police force. Jesus, I shouldn’t be mouthing off like this, but I didn’t get on the force to sit around watching people burn down the country.”
“It’s frightening,” Dorn said.
“It really is. You want a cigarette?”
“I don’t smoke.”
“Yeah, I been trying to quit myself, but it’s impossible. I don’t know. When I was a kid it wasn’t just me, with my father and all, but everybody respected the cops. He was this tall guy in a uniform who helped people. You know something? You take your average criminal, I mean a hardened professional criminal, and he respects the police. He knows we have a job and we have to do it. But these people nowadays, to them we’re pigs for doing our job. For trying to keep the city together. They say the job isn’t worth doing. These people, when a building is burning they stand and throw rocks at firemen. Guys trying to put out a fire and save a building, and these people stand and throw rocks at them.”
“You would think there must be an answer.”
“But where the hell is it? There’s a lot of guys leaving the force. Going out in the suburbs where they don’t have to contend with this, where they can still do the job they’re being paid to do. Others leaving police work altogether. The pay you get is nothing when you look at the dangers and the abuse you have to put up with. But I believe in this job, you know? Somebody has to do it. What happens if everybody throws his hands up and says the hell with it?”
“Then you have anarchy,” Dorn said.
“Yeah. Anarchy. I guess it’s a lot different where you’re from. Another world, it must be.”
“Completely different.”
“I voted for the President in the last election. You know who a lot of cops voted for? What’s-his-name, that had his legs blown off. Guthrie.”
“Oh, yes.”
“But I couldn’t see it myself. I mean what would he really know about running the country? About foreign policy? So I voted for the President, but if they had an election tomorrow I don’t know what I’d do. You know who they’re talking about more and more? Well, you would know, being from his state. Your man Rhodine.”
“Yes, he’s building up quite a following.”
“To tell you the truth, he’s a little far-out for my tastes. There’s a lot of talk that he’s coming down pretty hard on the Jews. Reading between the lines. I don’t know about that. But Jesus, we need somebody to take a strong stand on what’s happening in this country. It’s not getting better. Maybe this country needs a man like Rhodine to get things moving in the right direction again.”
“He knows how to maintain law and order.”
“Yeah. And we could use some of that. You know who else I like is Theodore. Of course he hasn’t got Rhodine’s style. But I like what he’s got to say.”
On the flight North he had sat with eyes closed and hands in lap. The newsphoto of Walter Isaac James was in his pocket. Still.
Jocelyn, I made a mistake and Detroit is burning. Something — your love, a black man’s face — blurred my vision. I no longer saw myself plain.
I am a killer, Jocelyn. Whatever shoes I wear, I cannot walk other than on an assassin’s feet. I committed the great error of forgetting this central fact. I, a gun in another man’s hand, presumed to be a hand myself.
From now on, Jocelyn, I shall remember who I am.
They had aspirin at the White Tower. Dorn, who would have asked for some anyway out of a regard for detail, had a headache by the time he reached the coffee shop. He found this amusing. He took two aspirin tablets and drank a glass of iced tea. Twice he found himself reaching for the clipping in his pocket. Both times he caught himself and shook his head, annoyed.
He walked back to his hotel. He passed several uniformed policemen in the few blocks but did not see the one with whom he had spoken. He picked up his key at the desk and went to his room. Inside, he locked the door and affixed the chain bolt. The Do Not Disturb sign was in place upon the doorknob.
Patrick John O’Dowd. Second-term mayor of Philadelphia. Liberal Republican. National aspirations. Charismatic. Social radical, economic conservative. National appeal to youthful left-centrists. Strong secondary black appeal. Focal point of white working-class hatred throughout eastern seaboard. Termination recommended but not urgent. Natural or accidental termination advised. Age: 47. Married...