The Assassin Part 63

He swung his legs out of the bed and went searching for underwear in his chest of drawers.

Penny watched him get dressed.

"You want to take me to the movies again, sometime?"

"Why not?" he asked.

"Would it be all right with you if I hung around here until the movie would be over?"

"Of course. There's an Inquirer Inquirer in the living room. Go look up what we saw, so we can keep our stories straight." in the living room. Go look up what we saw, so we can keep our stories straight."

She got out of bed with what he considered to be a very attractive display of thighs and b.u.t.tocks and went into the living room.

When he had tied his tie and slipped into a jacket he went after her.

"They're showing Casablanca Casablanca for the thousandth time. How about us having seen that?" for the thousandth time. How about us having seen that?"

" 'Round up the usual suspects,' " he quoted. "Sure. Why not?"

He went to the mantelpiece and picked up his revolver and slipped it into a holster.

"I suppose that's what cops' wives go through everyday, isn't it?"

"What?"

"Watching their man pick up his gun and go out, G.o.d only knows where."

"You are not a cop's wife, and you are very unlikely to become a cop's wife."

"You said it," she said.

He went and bent and kissed her, intending that it be almost casual, but she returned it with a strange fervor that was somehow frightening.

"I'll call you," he said.

"Enjoy the movie," Penny said.

He went down the stairs.

Penny looked at the mantel clock and did the mental calcuations. She had an hour and a half to kill, before she went home after an early supper and the movies.

She gave in to feminine curiosity and went around the apartment opening closets and cabinets, and when she had finished, she sat down in Matt's chair and read the Inquirer Inquirer.

The doorbell sounded.

"d.a.m.n!" she said aloud. "What do I do about that?"

She went to the solenoid b.u.t.ton and pushed it and looked down the stairwell.

A woman came in, and looked up at her in surprise.

"Who are you?" Evelyn asked.

"To judge by the look on your face, I'm the other woman," Penny said. "Come on up, and we'll talk about the lying sonofab.i.t.c.h."

TWENTY-SIX.

The commissioner's conference room in the Police Administration Building was jammed with people. Every seat at the long table was filled, chairs had been dragged in from other offices, and people were standing up and leaning against the wall. There were far too many people to fit in Lowenstein's office, which was why they were in the commissioner's conference room.

"You run this, Peter," Chief Inspector Matt Lowenstein declared from his chair at the head of the commissioner's conference table. "Denny Coughlin and I are here only to see how we can help you, Charley, and Frank."

Chief Inspector Dennis V. Coughlin, Supervisory Special Agent H. Charles Larkin of the Secret Service, and a.s.sistant Special Agent in Charge (Criminal Affairs) Frank F. Young of the FBI were seated around him.

And if I f.u.c.k up, right, you're off the hook? "Wohl was running the show."

Peter Wohl immediately regretted the thought: While that might While that might apply to some, most, maybe, of the other chief inspectors, it was not fair to apply it to either Lowenstein or Coughlin. apply to some, most, maybe, of the other chief inspectors, it was not fair to apply it to either Lowenstein or Coughlin.

Worse, almost certainly Lowenstein had taken the seat at the head of the table to establish his own authority, and then delegating it to me. Lowenstein is one of the good guys. And I know that.

"Yes, sir. Thank you," Wohl said. He looked around the table. With the exception of Captain Jack Duffy, the special a.s.sistant to the commissioner for inter-agency liaison, only Captain Dave Pekach and Lieutenant Harry Wisser of Highway Patrol were in uniform.

"Indulge me for a minute, please," Wohl began. "I really don't know who knows what, so let me recap it. An ATF agent from Atlantic City, in response to a 'furnish any information' teletype from the Secret Service, came up with evidence of high-explosive destruction of a bunch of rental lockers. We're still waiting for the lab report, but the ATF explosives expert says he's pretty sure the explosive used was Composition C-4, and the detonators were also military. He also said that whoever rigged the charges knows what he's doing.

"Mr. Larkin went down there. There is a house, a cabin, on the property. Mr. Larkin feels that the unusual neatness, cleanliness, of the cabin fits in with the psychological profile the psychiatrists have given us of this guy.

"The FBI has come up with the names of the people who own the property. Richard W. and Marianne Wheatley. No address. I don't know how many Wheatleys there are in Philadelphia . . ."

"Ninety-six, Inspector," Detective Payne interrupted. Wohl looked at him coldly. He saw that he had a telephone book open on the table before him.

"None of them," Matt went on, "either Richard W. or Marianne. Not even an R. W."

"I was about to say a h.e.l.l of a lot of them," Wohl said, adding with not quite gentle sarcasm, "Thank you, Payne. If I may continue? "

"Sorry," Matt said.

"And of course we don't know if these people live in Philadelphia, or Camden, or Atlantic City."

"Peter," Frank Young said. "Our office in Atlantic City has already asked the local authorities for their help."

"I'll handle Camden," Denny Coughlin announced. "I'm owed a couple of favors over there."

"What about Wilmington, Chester, the suburbs?" Wohl asked him.

"I'll handle that," Coughlin said.

"Then that leaves us, if we are to believe Detective Payne, ninety-six people to check out in Philadelphia. It may be a wild goose chase, but we can't take the chance that it's not."

"How do you want to handle it, Peter?"

"Ring doorbells," Wohl said. "I'd rather have detectives ringing them."

"Done," Lowenstein said.

"What I think they should do, Chief," Wohl said, "is ring the doorbell, ask whoever answers it if their name is Wheatley, and then ask if they own property in the Pine Barrens. If they say they do, they'll either ask why the cops want to know, and the detective will reply-or volunteer, if they don't ask-that the Jersey cops, better yet, the sheriff has called. There has been a fire in the house. The people have to be notified, and since Richard W. and Marianne Wheatley are not in the book, they are checking out all Wheatleys."

"What if it's the guy?" Captain Duffy asked.

"I don't really think," Wohl said, aware that he was furious at the stupidity of the question, and trying to restrain his temper, "that the guy is going to say, 'Right, I'm Wheatley, I own the garbage dump, and I've been using it to practice blowing up the Vice President' do you, Jack?"

"If I may, Peter?" Larkin asked.

"Certainly."

"We have to presume this fellow is mentally unstable. And we know he's at least competent, and possibly expert, around explosives. If If we find him, we have to be very careful how we take him." we find him, we have to be very careful how we take him."

"Yes, sir," Captain Duffy said. "I can see that."

"Let me lay this out as I see it," Wohl said. "The reason I want detectives to ring the bell, Chief Lowenstein, is that most people who answer the doorbell are going to say 'No, I don't own a farm in Jersey' and any detective should be able to detect any hesitation. For the sake of argument, they find this guy. There will have to be a reaction to a detective showing up at his door. The detective does his best to calm him down. There was a fire, he's simply delivering a message. The detective goes away. Then we figure how to take him."

"We'd like to be in on that, Peter," Frank F. Young of the FBI said.

"How do you want to handle it, Peter?" Chief Lowenstein said.

"Depends on where and what the detective who's suspicious has to say, of course," Wohl replied. "But I think Stakeout, backed up by Highway."

"We've got warrants," Chief Coughlin said. "We just take the door, is that what you're saying?"

"It'd take us up to an hour to set it up," Wohl said. "Ordnance Disposal would be involved. And the district, of course another field Detective Division. By then, I hope, he would relax. And taking the doors would be, I think, the way to do it."

Coughlin grunted his agreement.

"And in the meantime, sit on him?" Lowenstein said.

"Different detectives," Wohl said, "in case he leaves."

"And what if n.o.body's home?" Mike Sabara asked.

"Then we sit on that address," Wohl said. "An unmarked Special Operations car, until we run out of them, and then, if nothing else, a district RPC." He looked at Lowenstein and Coughlin, and then around the table. "I'm open to suggestion."

"I suggest," Lowenstein said, breaking the silence, "that Detective Payne slide that phone book down the table to me, and somebody get me a pen, and we'll find out where these ninety-six Wheatleys all live."

The telephone book, still open, was pa.s.sed down the table to Chief Lowenstein. Sergeant Tom Mahon, Chief Coughlin's driver, leaned over him and handed Chief Lowenstein two ballpoint pens.

As if they had rehea.r.s.ed what they were doing, Chief Lowenstein read aloud a listing from the telephone directory, the whole thing, name, address, and telephone number, then said, "North Central" or "West" or another name of one of the seven Detective Divisions.

Most of the time, Coughlin would either grunt his acceptance of the location, or repeat it in agreement, but every once in a while they would have a short discussion as to the precise district boundaries. Finally, they would be in agreement, and Lowenstein would very carefully print the name of the Detective Division having jurisdiction over that address in the margin.

Everyone in the room watched in silence as they went through the ninety-six names.

They could have taken that to Radio, Peter Wohl thought. Peter Wohl thought. Any radio dispatcher could have done the same thing. Any radio dispatcher could have done the same thing.

But then he changed his mind. These two old cops know every street and alley in Philadelphia better than any radio dispatcher. They're doing this because it's the quickest way to get it done, and These two old cops know every street and alley in Philadelphia better than any radio dispatcher. They're doing this because it's the quickest way to get it done, and done correctly. But I don't really think they are unaware that everybody at this table has been impressed with their encyclopedic knowledge. done correctly. But I don't really think they are unaware that everybody at this table has been impressed with their encyclopedic knowledge.

When he had written the last entry, Lowenstein pushed the telephone book to Coughlin, who examined it carefully.

"Take this, Matty," Coughlin said, finally, holding up the telephone book. "Type it up, broken down into districts. Tom, you go with him. As soon as he's finished a page, Xerox it. Twenty-five copies, and bring it in here."

"Yes, sir," Sergeant Mahon said.

The two left the commissioner's conference room.

"Peter, are you open to suggestion?" Lowenstein asked.

"Yes, sir. Certainly."

"There's three of us, you, Coughlin, and me. I think that list, when he's finished sorting it out, we can break down into thirds. I'll take one, you take one, and Denny can take the third. We'll have the detective teams, I think we should send two to each doorbell, report to whichever of us it is. That make sense to you?"

"Yes, sir. It does."

"Sort of supervisory teams, right?" Frank F. Young of the FBI said. "Do you think it would be a good idea if I went with one of them, with you, Chief Lowenstein, and I'll get two other special agents to go with Chief Coughlin and Inspector Wohl."

"Better yet," Lowenstein said, "why don't you and Charley go with Peter? He's the man in overall charge."

"Whatever you say, of course," Young said, visibly disappointed.

Wohl thought he saw Coughlin, not entirely successfully, try to hide a smile.

When the neatly typed and Xeroxed lists were pa.s.sed around, it was evident that the Wheatleys were scattered all over Philadelphia. Lowenstein, after first tactfully making it a suggestion to Wohl, a.s.signed himself to supervise the operation in the Central and North Central detective districts. He also "suggested" that Chief Coughlin supervise the operation in the South and West Detective Divisions, which left Wohl to supervise the detectives who would be working in the East, Northeast, and Northwest Detective Divisions.

At that point, although the CONFERENCE IN PROGRESS-DO NOT ENTER sign was on display outside the conference room, the door suddenly opened and the Honorable Jerry Carlucci, mayor of Philadelphia, marched into the room.

"What's all this going to cost in overtime?" he asked, by way of greeting. "I suppose it's too much to expect that anybody would think of telling me, or for that matter the commissioner, what the h.e.l.l is going on?"

"I was going to call you, Jerry . . ." Lowenstein began.

"Mr. Mayor to you, Chief, thank you very much."

". . . right about now. Peter just decided how this is going to work."

"So you tell me, Peter."

Wohl described the operation to the mayor.