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“I agree with Denny,” Lowenstein said, looking at the butt of his cigar.
“You think we should go ahead, in other words?”
“Yeah, Jerry, I do.”
“You don’t seem very happy about it.”
“No, I’m not. For one thing, if we find dirty cops in Five Squad, the whole department looks bad. Internally, so does Internal Affairs because we dug it out, not them. Let’s say you give this to Peter—”
“I’m thinking of suggesting to the commissioner that it be given to Ethical Affairs.”
“Same thing. Nothing personal, Mike,” Lowenstein said, looking at Staff Inspector Weisbach, “but you can’t do it without Peter’s help, which, the way I see it, puts Peter in charge.”
“And since Peter—nothing personal, Peter—” the mayor said, “can’t do it without the help of the chief inspector of detectives, the way you see it, does that put you in charge?”
“Come on, Jerry.”
“Or without the help of Chief Coughlin, does that put Denny in charge?”
“What are you driving at, Jerry?” Coughlin asked “That you want me, or Matt, to take this?”
“Nobody pays attention to what I say is what I’m driving at. I’ll try again. I’m going to suggest to Commissioner Czernich than an investigation of certain allegations concerning the Narcotics Unit is in order, and that it should be conducted by the Ethical Affairs Unit. Therefore, Mike Weisbach will be in charge. I am also going to suggest to the Commissioner that he direct Peter, Denny, and you, Matt, to provide Mike with whatever he thinks he needs to get the job done. Now, is that clear in everybody’s mind?”
There was a chorus of “Yes, sir.”
“And since everybody involved is an experienced police officer, it will not be necessary for me to tell you that the best way to blow this investigation is to let those scumbags even suspect somebody’s taking a close look at them, right? Do I make that point? I want them. I want them bad. If there’s anything worse than a drug dealer, it’s a police officer either hiding drug dealers behind his badge, or, God forbid, dealing drugs himself.”
He looked around at all of them.
“Peter, since you’ll be working closer with Mike than anybody else, once a day, either Fellows or myself will telephone you and you’ll tell us what’s happened in the past twenty-four hours. You’ll also keep Matt and Denny up to speed. As little as possible in writing. Papers have a way of turning up in the wrong hands.”
“Yes, sir,” Peter Wohl said.
SIX
When Matt Payne glanced into the lobby as he drove past the Delaware Valley Cancer Society Building, he saw two men in business suits sitting on the leather-and-chrome seats facing the receptionist’s desk.
Except for the Wachenhut rent-a-cop the Cancer Society installed behind the receptionist’s desk, they closed down tight at night and on weekends. It was therefore possible—even likely—that anyone in the lobby was waiting for him, not for someone connected with the Cancer Society.
He slowed and took a closer look. He recognized neither man. He shrugged and drove around the block, to the rear of the building, where he had to get out of the Porsche and use a difficult key to open the steel door lowered on weekends over the entrance to the basement garage. He entered the garage, then got out of the Porsche again to reclose the door.
He rode to the fourth-floor landing on the elevator, unlocked his door, and climbed the narrow stairway to his apartment.
Which seemed to be in even a greater mess than he remembered. An unpleasant sweetish odor told him that he had again forgotten to get rid of the goddamned garbage under the sink. He would, he realized, have to deal with both problems tonight.
Just as soon as he dealt with his answering machine, the red light of which was blinking.
“Matt,” the recorded voice said. “Mike Weisbach. Sorry to bother you on your day off. If you get in before, say, half past ten, give me a ring at home, will you? 774- 4923.”
He slumped onto the couch and reached for the telephone.
A woman answered.
“Inspector Weisbach, please. Detective Payne returning his call.”
“Hi, Matt. This is Natalie. I’ll get him.”
“Thank you.”
