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McFadden’s heavily bearded face screwed up in thought.
“I don’t think I’d have any money, since I didn’t get to pull off the robbery,” he said. “So I don’t think I would be on a bus or train out of town. And I wouldn’t go back where I lived, in case I had been recognized, s
o I would probably be holed up someplace, probably in North Philly, if I got that far. Maybe downtown. I can think of a couple of places.”
“Make up a list,” Hobbs ordered.
“I’d sort of like to look for this guy myself, Sergeant,” McFadden said.
Hobbs looked at him dubiously.
“I don’t want to blow my cover, Sergeant,” McFadden went on. “I could look for him without doing that.”
“You can tell Lieutenant Pekach that I said that if he thinks you could be spared from your regular job for a while, that you could probably be useful to Detective Washington,” Hobbs said. “If Washington wants you.”
“Thank you,” McFadden said. “I’ll ask him as soon as I get back to the office.”
“Jason Washington’s got the job?” Sergeant DeConti asked.
“Uh-huh,” Hobbs said. He picked up the telephone and dialed it.
“Detention Unit, Corporal Delzinski.”
“This is Sergeant Hobbs, Homicide, Corporal. The next time a wagon from the Sixth District—”
“There’s one just come in, Sergeant,” Delzinski interrupted.
“As soon as they drop off their prisoner, send them up to Criminal Records,” Hobbs said. “I’ve got a prisoner that has to be transported to Narcotics. They’ll probably have to fumigate the wagon, afterward, but that can’t be helped.”
DeConti laughed.
“We have a lot of time and money invested in making you a credible turd, McFadden,” Hobbs said. “I would hate to see it all wasted.”
“I understand, sir,” McFadden said. “Thank you.” A civilian employee from the photo lab, a very thin woman, walked up with three four-by-five photographs of Gerald Vincent Gallagher.
“I wiped them,” she said. “But they’re still wet. I don’t know about putting them in an envelope.”
“I’ll just carry them the way they are,” Hobbs said.
“McFadden, you make up your list. When the Sixth District wagon gets here, Sergeant DeConti will tell them to transport you to Narcotics. I’ll send somebody up to get the list from you.”
“Yes, sir,” McFadden said.
“Thank you, Brother DeConti,” Hobbs said. “It’s always a pleasure doing business with you.”
“I just hope you catch the bastard,” DeConti said.
****
The Wackenhut Private Security officer did not raise the barrier when the blue Ford LTD nosed up to it, nor even when the driver tapped the horn. He let the bastard wait a minute, and then walked slowly over to the car.
“May I help you, sir?”
“Raise the barrier,” Wohl said.
“Stockton Place is not a public thoroughfare, sir,” the security officer said.
Wohl showed him his badge.
