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“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.
