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“Hello?”
“Brewster, this is Denny Coughlin.”
“Is something wrong, Denny?” Brewster Cortland Payne, suddenly wide awake, asked.
“What is it?” a familiar female voice came faintly over the telephone.
“Matt’s got himself shot,” Denny Coughlin said very quickly. “Not seriously. He’s in Frankford Hospital. By the time you get dressed, there will be a police car waiting in your driveway to escort you to the hospital. I’ll meet you there.”
“All right.”
“My God, I’m sorry, Brewster.”
“Yes, I know. We’ll see you there, Denny.”
The phone went dead.
Coughlin broke the connection with his finger and then dialed another number from memory.
“Highway.”
“This is Chief Coughlin.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I have cleared this with Inspector Wohl. A Media police car is about to escort a car to the city line. I want a Highway car to meet it and take it the rest of the way to Frankford Hospital. Got that?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Thank you,” Coughlin said, and hung up. Then he went into his bedroom and started to get dressed. As he was tying his shoes, he suddenly looked up, at the crucifix hanging over his bed.
“It could be worse. Thank you,” he said.
FOURTEEN
Shortly after Mr. Michael J. O’Hara appeared in the city room of the Philadelphia Bulletin at a little after six A.M., the Bulletin’s city and managing editors decided that since they had an exclusive (the term “scoop” is considered déclassé by modern journalists) in Mr. O’Hara’s coverage of the shooting during the arrest of the Islamic Liberation Army, together with some really great pictures, it clearly behooved them to run with it.
The front pages of Sections A and B were redone. On Page 1A, a photograph of the President of the United States shaking hands with some foreign dignitary in flowing robes was replaced with a photograph of the cop bleeding all over himself as he held his gun on the guy who had shot him. Under it was the caption:
* * *
Special Operations Officer Matthew M. Payne, blood streaming from his wounds, holds his pistol on Charles D. Stevens, whom he had just bested in an early morning gun battle in Frankford. Stevens was one of eight men, alleged to be participants in the murder-robbery of Goldblatt’s furniture store, whom police rounded up at dawn. Payne
collapsed moments after this photo was taken. Full details on Page 1B. [Bulletin Photograph by Michael J. O’Hara.]
* * *
Most of Page 1B was redone. When finished it had three photographs lining the top, and a headline reading, EXCLUSIVE BULLETIN COVERAGE OF EARLY MORNING SHOOTOUT.
Below the photographs—which showed Matt Payne being held up by the ACT cop; Charles D. Stevens being rolled into Frankford Hospital on a gurney; and Matt Payne, his face caked with blood, on his gurney in the corridor at Frankford Hospital—was the story:
* * *
By Michael J. O’Hara
Bulletin Staff Writer
Blood stained the freshly fallen snow in an alley in Frankford early this morning after Charles D. Stevens chose to shoot it out with the cops rather than submit to arrest and picked the wrong cop for his deadly duel.
