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“Chief Coughlin is in the bar, sir,” the porter said, his tone suggesting that life would be much easier if stupid members took a look at the membership board themselves.
Coughlin, Peter Wohl, and Matt Payne were sitting at a large table—with room for six chairs—and had been there, Davis saw, at least long enough to get bar service.
The three of them stood up as Davis approached.
“You’re looking well, Walter,” Coughlin said, offering his large hand.
“As you do, Dennis,” Davis said, and offered his hand first to Wohl—“Thank you for making time for me, Peter”—and then to Matt. “How are you, Payne?”
“Very well, thank you, sir,” Payne said.
“You’ve met these fellows,” Davis said. “But let me int
roduce them to Peter and Dennis. Raymond Leibowitz and Howard Jernigan.”
The men shook hands.
A waiter appeared. Davis ordered a Jack Daniel’s on the rocks, Leibowitz the same, and Jernigan ginger ale.
“I’d really like to be somewhere where we won’t be overheard,” Davis said. “Is there somewhere . . .”
“Matty’s father told me they spent a lot of money designing this room,” Coughlin said, gesturing at the high, paneled ceiling, “as someplace where people could have discreet conversations. But if you’re uncomfortable, Walter, there are private rooms.”
“No. I’m sure this will be fine,” Davis said.
“You’re the commanding officer of Special Operations,
I understand, Inspector,” Jernigan said, oozing charm.
“Yes, I am,” Peter said, and added mischievously, “I understand you’ve seen our headquarters.”
Jernigan colored.
Coughlin laughed, and after a second, somewhat artificially, Davis joined in.
“Let’s clear the air,” Coughlin said. “Detective Payne should have told your people he was a police officer, and he should not have taken them on—what should we call it?—a tour of the scenic attractions of North Philadelphia, and he is prepared to apologize, isn’t that so, Matty?”
“Yes, sir. We just got off on the wrong foot. I’m sorry.”
The waiter appeared with the drinks.
“I propose a toast to peace, friendship, and cooperation between the Philadelphia Police Department and the Federal Bureau of Investigation,” Coughlin said, and raised his glass.
“A very appropriate toast, one I quickly agree to, under the circumstances,” Davis said.
“What circumstances would those be, Walter?” Coughlin asked.
“I think I’ll let Raymond get into that,” Davis said. “But first let me tell you that Raymond and Howard aren’t in my office. They operate out of FBI Headquarters in Washington; they’re members of the Anti-Terrorism Group.”
“Anti-Terrorism?” Matt blurted.
Coughlin and Wohl frowned at him.
“Before we came to see you, Detective Payne,” Leibowitz said, “there just wasn’t time to check in with the Philadelphia office. If there was, we would have known who you were. Are.”
“I thought you were investigating the kidnapping of Susan Reynolds,” Matt said. “Actually, the nonkidnapping.”
“ ‘Kidnapping’?” Leibowitz said, visibly surprised. “Where’d you get that?”
