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“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Of course you don’t. You want to meet me there? Or should I pick you up?”
“I’ll meet you there. When can you leave?”
“As soon as I can turn out the lights. I’m starved.” He hung up, looked out the window and saw that it was not only dark but raining, and went to what had been the classroom’s cloakroom for his trench coat. When he picked it up, there was something heavy in the pocket. He fished it out. It was the small tape recorder that had come with the dictation system he had bought to transcribe the Kellog tapes, still in its box with compartments for the device, batteries, and three tape cassettes.
He started to put it on his desk, but changed his mind when he thought it might be useful to transcribe information at the Roundhouse. He put it back in the trench-coat’s pocket, turned off the lights, and left.
“If you had a decent paying job, you wouldn’t have to put in so much overtime,” Special Agent Matthews, a tall, muscular, fair-skinned man in his late twenties, said to Detective Payne when Matt slid onto a stool beside him in the bar.
“Why do I suspect there is something significant in that remark?” Matt said. “What are you drinking?”
“Johnny Walker Black,” Matthews said. “Would you like one?”
“You’re paying?”
“The Bureau is paying.”
“In that case, yes, thank you, I will,” Matt said. He caught the bartender’s eye and signaled for the same thing. “I will ask why the Bureau is paying later. I would have thought they would be just a little annoyed with me.”
“Whatever for? The purpose of this little rendezvous is to point out to you all the nice things that would happen if you joined us.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Not at all. Davis called me into his office and ordered me to wine and dine you with that noble purpose in mind.”
Matt chuckled.
“You can tell Mr. Davis what I told the two assholes. One of my best friends is an FBI agent, but I wouldn’t want my sister to marry one of
them.”
“Which two assholes would that be?”
“The two I led on a wild-goose chase up and down the alleys of North Philadelphia.”
“FBI agents?” Matthews asked. Matt nodded. “Did they have names?”
Matt called the names from his memory.
“Jernigan and Leibowitz,” he said. “Leibowitz seemed to be the brighter of the two.”
“Never heard of them,” Jack Matthews said. “Why did you lead them on a wild-goose chase?”
“They annoyed me,” Matt said.
“Why did they annoy you?”
“They thought I had kidnapped an innocent maiden.”
“You don’t know any innocent maidens. There may not be an innocent maiden over the age of eleven in Philadelphia. Kidnapped? What the hell are you talking about, Matt? Try starting at the beginning.”
“This is really the first time you’re hearing this?” Matt asked.
Matthews held up his hands in a gesture of innocence.
“Somewhat reluctantly, I will take you at your word,” Matt said, and told him of his encounter with Special Agents Leibowitz and Jernigan.
