He went to each and pumped their hands, and then turned to D'Amata and Pelosi.
"I'm Still Stillwell," he said, putting out his hand.
"Joe D'Amata, of Homicide," Lowenstein offered, "and Jerry Pelosi of Central Detectives."
"Sit down," Callis ordered, tempering it with a smile. "Matt's got a wild idea. I want your reaction to it."
"Chief Lowenstein is not the kind of man who has wild ideas," Stillwell said."Unusual, perhaps. But not wild."
Nice try, Wohl thought, somewhat unkindly, but a waste of effort. Matt Lowenstein wouldn't vote Republican if Moses were heading the ticket.
"Tell the man about yourunusual idea, Matt," Callis said.
Lowenstein laid out, quickly but completely, what he had in mind.
"What do you think of the chief's idea, Peter?" Stillwell asked.
Covering your ass, Still?
"We know what we think about it," Callis said. "What we want to know is whatyou think about it."
Thank you, Mr. District Attorney.
"All right. Gut reaction. Off the top of my head. I love it."
"Why?" Callis asked.
"'District Attorney Thomas J. Callis announced this afternoon that he will bring the six, eight, whatever it is, members of the gang calling themselves the Islamic Liberation Army before the Grand Jury immediately, and that he is confident the Grand Jury will return murder and armed robbery indictments against all of them.'"
"Youwere listening when Lowenstein said they have just the one witness?"
"Yes. And I was also listening when he said he thought other witnesses might experience a miraculous return of memory. "
"You want to put your money where your mouth is?" Callis asked.
"Am I going to be allowed to take part in this?"
"It's yours, if you want it," Callis said.
"I've got a pretty heavy schedule-"
"Meaning you really don't want to get involved, now that you've had ten seconds to think it over?"
"Meaning, I'll have to have some help with my present calendar."
"No problem," Callis said. "That can be arranged."
Callis, Wohl thought unkindly, but with a certain degree of admiration, has just pulled a Carlucci. If this works, he will take, if not all, at least a substantial portion of the credit. And if it goes wrong, that will be Farnsworth Stillwell's fault.
Or Matt Lowenstein's fault. Or mine.
Probably the latter. When you get to the bottom line, Farnsworth Stillwell is smarter than either Lowenstein or me. Or at least less principled. Or both.
"Keep me up-to-date on what's going on," Callis said. "And later today, Still, I'll want to talk to you about the municipal court judge."
"Right, Chief," Stillwell said. "Gentlemen, why don't we go into the conference room and work out some of the details?"
"Thank you, Tommy," Lowenstein said.
Callis grunted. When he gave his hand to Peter Wohl, he said, "You'd better hope your people can protect Mr. Monahan, Peter. For that matter you'd better hope he doesn't have a heart attack."
When Officer Matthew Payne walked into the Special Operations Office, the sergeant had given him the message that Inspector Wohl had called in at 7:12 to say that he would not be in until later, time unspecified.
Officer Payne sat down at his desk and opened theBulletin. He had just started to read Mickey O'Hara's story about the robbery and murder at Goldblatt amp; Sons Credit Furniture amp; Appliances, Inc., when, startling him, the newspaper was snatched out of his hands.
Officer Charles McFadden was standing there, looking very pleased with himself.
"Jesus Christ, Charley!"
"Gotcha, huh?"
"Why aren't you out fighting crime?"
"Need a favor."
"Okay. Within reason."
"Be my best man," Charley said.
"I have this strange feeling you're serious."
"Margaret's going to call her mother this morning; we're going to get married in six weeks."
"Yeah, sure, Charley. I'd be honored."
"Thank you," Charley said very seriously, shook Matt's hand enthusiastically, and walked out of the office.
When he was gone, Matt picked up and read theBulletin and then theLedger. Both carried stories about the robbery of Goldblatt's. TheLedger story was accompanied by a photograph of a press release from the Islamic Liberation Army, claiming responsibility. Mickey O' Hara's story in theBulletin hadn't mentioned the Islamic Liberation Army.
Matt found that interesting. He allowed himself to hope that the press release was a hoax, on which theLedger had bit, and which would show them up for the assholes they were.
The society pages of both newspapers (called "LIVING" in theLedger) carried stories of the festivities of the Delaware Valley Cancer Society on Rittenhouse Square, complete with photographs of some of the guests, standing around holding plastic champagne glasses. Matt hoped that he would find Helene's picture, and then, in the caption, her last name. He examined each of them carefully but was unable to find a picture of Helene.
Of course not. While this momentous occasion was being photographed for posterity, Helene and I were thrashing around in our birthday suits on my bed. It's a shame I don't have a picture of that for my memory book.
The telephone rang.
"Good morning. Inspector Wohl's office, Officer Payne."
"You're remarkably cheerful," Wohl's voice said.
"Yes, sir. Every day, in every way, things are getting better and better."
"I gather you were not alone in your monastic cell last night?"
"Yes, sir. That's true."
"I'm in the DA's office, Matt. Get word to Pekach and Sabara that I want to see them in my office at half past eleven. Tell them to keep lunch free too."
"Yes, sir."
"In the upper right drawer of my desk, you'll find a ring of keys. They're to the elementary school building at Frankford and Castor."
"Yes, sir?"
"Get a car and take Lieutenant Malone over there. Tell him I want his assessment of the building as a headquarters-listen carefully: for Special Operations headquarters and Special Operations; for Special Operations headquarters and Highway; and for Special Operations headquarters, Special Operations,and Highway. All three possibilities. Got it?"
"Yes, sir. I understand."
"Don't help him," Wohl said.
"Sir?" Matt asked, confused.
"I want to know what you think too, separately," Wohl said. "Get him back in time for the eleven-thirty meeting."
"Yes, sir. What would you like me to do with the stuff for the FBI?"
"You have it all?"
"Yes, sir. I couldn't run Mr. Harris down, but I asked Mr. Washington to have a look at it, and he said I found everything they'd want."
"Leave it on my desk. Maybe I'll have time-I'll have to make time-to look at it before eleven-thirty. You have to be damned careful what you hand the FBI. Call them, and tell them they'll have it this afternoon."
"Yes, sir."
"And see if you can get word to Washington to be there at half past eleven."
"Just Mr. Washington?"
"Just Mr. Washington" Wohl repeated, and hung up.
Matt called Captain Sabara, Captain Pekach, Detective Washington-now Sergeant Washington-finally the FBI office. He got through to everybody but SAC Davis, who was not available to come to the telephone. Matt left word that the material Inspector Wohl was sending would be there that afternoon.
Then he went to the Special Operations dispatcher and asked for a car. When he had the keys, he went and looked for Lieutenant Malone.
ELEVEN
The building at Frankford and Castor Avenues, according to what was chiseled in stone over the front door and on a piece of granite to the left of the door, had been built in 1892 as the Frankford Grammar School.