"Special Operations will continue to provide two police officers to guard Mr. Monahan and his wife around the clock," Wohl said, and then when he saw the look on Lowenstein's face went on: "To take the ACT people off that job-theyare police officers, Chief-as a result of this 'press release' would both signal the Liberation Army that we're afraid of them, and send the message to the ACT cops that I don't have any faith in them."
"I hope your touching faith is justified, Peter," Lowenstein said. " If they get to Monahan, either kill him, or scare him so that he won't testify, this whole thing goes down the tube, the scumbags go free, and the whole police department, not just you, will have egg all over its face."
"I intend to protect Mr. Monahan," Wohl said, a little sharply. "I'm even thinking about shotguns."
"You have enough ex-Stakeout people who are shotgun qualified?" Lowenstein asked.
Unlike most major city police departments, which routinely equip police officers with shotguns, Philadelphia does not. Only the specially armed Stakeout unit is issued shotguns.
"I've got people finding out," Wohl said.
"I'll call the range at the Police Academy, Peter," Lowenstein said. "Have ten of your people there in an hour. The Range Training Officers will be set up to train and certify them in no more than two hours."
"Thank you," Wohl said, simply.
"I hope Harry gets something from hospital security," Washington said. "How long is Matt going to be in here, anyway?"
"Not long," Wohl said. "They'll probably let him go tomorrow."
"That soon?" Washington asked, surprised.
"The new theory is that the more he moves around, the quicker he'll heal," Lowenstein said.
The door to Matt's room opened.
"Matt's awake," Martha Washington announced.
"Jason," Lowenstein said quickly, softly, "when somebody asks, as somebody surely will, how you're coming with the ones we have locked up, could I say that I don't know, the last I heard you were off to see Arthur X?"
"You're reading my mind again, Chief," Washington said.
"And there's one more thing you could do that would help, Jason," Wohl said.
"What's that?"
"Find Tony Harris and sober him up. I'd like him in on this,"
Washington's face registered momentary surprise, then he met Wohl's eyes.
"I've found him. I'm working on sobering him up."
"Are you going to come in here or not?" Martha asked.
The three men filed into Matt's room. He was sitting up in bed.
"I'll be running along now," the Reverend Coyle said. "The hospital doesn't like to have a patient have too many visitors at once."
"Thank you for coming to see me," Matt said politely.
"Don't be silly," the Reverend Coyle said. "You feel free to call me, Matt, whenever you want to talk this over."
"I will, thank you very much," Matt said.
Jason Washington caught Martha's eye and made a barely perceptible gesture.
"I'll be outside," she said.
Matt looked from one to the other.
Lowenstein finally broke the silence. "How much dope are you on?"
"One tiny little pill of Demerol whenever they feel I should have one."
"Could you do without it?"
"Why?"
"Your judgment is impaired when you're on Demerol."
"Am I going to need my judgment in here?"
Lowenstein handed him the press release.
Matt read it, and looked at Lowenstein.
"Jesus, are they serious?" he asked.
Lowenstein shrugged.
"I think we should err on the side of caution," Wohl said. "In this case meaning having a pistol in your bedside table might be a good idea."
Matt felt a cramp in his stomach.
Jesus, is that fear?
"The sergeant from the Mobile Crime Lab took my pistol," Matt said, desperately hoping his voice did not betray him, that he sounded like a matter-of-fact cop explaining something.
Simultaneously, Chief Inspector Lowenstein and Staff Inspector Wohl reached into the pockets of their topcoats and came out with identical Smith amp; Wesson Chief's Special snub-nosed.38 Special caliber revolvers.
Matt took the one Wohl had extended to him, butt first. He laid it on the sheet and covered it with his hand.
"One should be enough, don't you think?" he said. "You just happened to have spares with you, right?"
He's frightened, Wohl thought. He's cracking wise, but he's frightened. Then he grew angry. Those dirty sonsofbitches!
"Harry McElroy is arranging with hospital security to make sure nobody even knows where you are in here, much less gets close to you," Lowenstein said. "I think that threat is pure bullshit. But better safe than sorry."
"Yes, of course," Matt said.
"Just make sure no one knows you have a weapon," Wohl said. "The hospital would throw a fit."
"You'll be out of here tomorrow, or the day after," Washington said. "Even if this is not fantasy on the part of these people, they won't look for you in Wallingford. You are going to Wallingford, right?"
"I was, but not now," Matt said. "Christ, I don't want my family to hear about this!"
"It'll be in the papers," Wohl said. "They'll hear about it."
"I'll go to my apartment," Matt said, "not Wallingford."
"You in the phone book?" Lowenstein asked.
"No, sir."
"What I think this is intended to do, Payne," Lowenstein went on, "is frighten Mr. Monahan. I think they're trying to get him to think that if they can threaten a cop-You take my meaning?"
"Yes, sir."
"I can't believe they'd come after you. If they were serious about revenge, they wouldn't have given a warning."
"Yes, sir."
On the other hand, Matt thought, if they did kill me, that would really send Mr. Monahan a message.
The pain in his stomach had gone as quickly as it had come.
Jesus, that Demerol must be working. I'm not even afraid anymore. This is more like watching a cops-and-robbers show on TV. You know it' s not real.
And then he had a sudden, very clear image of the orange muzzle blasts in the alley, and heard again the crack of Abu Ben Mohammed's pistol, and felt again getting slammed in the calf and forehead, and the fear, and the cramp in his stomach, came back.
"I'll have a talk with your father, Matt," Wohl said. "And put this in perspective. If you'd like me to."
"Please," Matt said.
"I'm sure McElroy has arranged with the switchboard to put through only calls from your family and friends," Lowenstein said. "But some calls may get through-"
"Calls from whom?" Matt interrupted.
"I was thinking of the press, those bastards are not above saying they're somebody's brother, but now that I think of it, these people may try to call you too."
"In either case, hang up," Wohl said. "No matter what you would say, it would be the wrong thing."
"Yes, sir."
"And above all," Wohl said, "as the hangman said as he led the condemned man up the scaffold steps, try not to worry about this."
"Oh, God!" Washington groaned, and then they all laughed.
A little too heartily, Matt thought. That wasn't that funny.
SIXTEEN
The Honorable Jerry Carlucci, mayor of the City of Philadelphia, sat in the commissioner's chair at the head of the commissioner's conference table in the commissioner's conference room on the third floor of the Roundhouse rolling one of Chief Inspector Matt Lowenstein's big black cigars in his fingers. His Honor was visibly not in a good mood.
One indication of this was the manner in which he had come by the cigar.
"Matt, I don't suppose you have a spare cigar you could let me have, do you?" the mayor had politely asked.