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“You’re on the front page,” Jesus said.
Matt unfolded the newspaper. There was a photograph of him being carried to Coughlin’s car at Frankford Hospital. Beneath it was the caption:
* * *
COP UNDER DEATH THREAT-As heavily armed police stand by, Officer Matthew M. Payne, whose life has been threatened by the Islamic Liberation Army is carried from Frankford Hospital to a police car that took him to an undisclosed location. Payne was wounded in the gun battle in which he shot to death ILA member Abu Ben Mohammed. (See ILA)
* * *
Charley leaned over Matt’s shoulder and read the caption.
“Well, the bastards got what they wanted, didn’t they?” he asked. “The front page of the News, and we sure look like we’re scared of them.”
“I don’t know about you being scared, white boy,” Matt heard himself say, “but we are.”
McFadden looked al him curiously, and after a moment said seriously, “You’ll be all right, buddy. You can lake that to the bank.”
There was a moment’s awkward silence, which Jesus finally broke.
“The first thing you have to decide is where you want this end of the intercom.”
“How about on the kitchen wall?”
“Why not?”
Matt was impressed with the skill with which Jesus installed the intercom. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing. It reminded him of Charley’s mechanical drawing skill, and that made him consider his own practical ineptitude.
Matthew Mark Payne, B.A., Cum Laude, University of Pennsylvania, you don’t have one salable skill, something you could find a paying job doing, except being a cop, and, truth to tell, you ain’t too good at that.
By half past five, the intercom was installed and tested.
“Anybody else getting hungry?” Matt asked as Jesus—workmanlike, Matt thought—neatly coiled the leftover wire and put the tools back in their boxes.
“I could eat something,” Jesus said.
“I’m going to finish hanging your naked lady picture,” Charley said, “and then leave. I’m going to have supper with Margaret. I’ll be back at midnight and relieve Hay-zus.”
“Bring her back here, and her friend Lari too, and we’ll send out for food.”
“No,” Charley said. “For one thing, I wouldn’t bring a nice girl like her anyplace where there’s a naked lady hanging on the wall.”
“You’re kidding!”
“Her uncle and aunt are feeding us,” Charley said. “We have to go there.”
“Don’t break your ass on the way to the subway,” Jesus said.
“You don’t have your car, do you?” Matt asked, and, when Charley shook his head, asked, “where is it, Bustleton and Bowler?”
“Yeah.”
“Why don’t you leave it there and take the Porsche?”
“I don’t know, Matt. I’d hate to tear it up.”
“You can’t leave a Porsche sit,” Matt said. “And I damned sure can’t drive it. Where’d you put the keys?”
“Jesus, I forgot!” Charley said, and pulled them from his trouser pocket.
