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“How come the shyster gets special treatment?”
“Because I like him,” Wohl said.
“Oh, Christ,” Weisbach groaned.
Cohen pointed toward the door to Homicide. Captain Michael J. Mikkles, who commanded the Impact Task Force- a special antidrug unit-had just come in. He was a tall, very thin, bald-headed man in his fifties. He was halfway to Captain Quaire’s office when Captain Calmon entered Homicide.
When he was in the office, and they had all shaken hands all around, Wohl closed the door.
“First things first,” he said. “I need six undercover vehicles for an indefinite period, said vehicles suitable for a round-the — clock surveillance at the Paschall Homes Housing Project, and I need them right now.”
“Who are we going to-” Weisbach started to ask.
“Indulge me, Mike,” Wohl interrupted. “I’ll explain everything in a minute. Right now, I want two undercover vehicles at Special Operations, two more within a couple of hours, and a total of six by morning. You two decide between you where they’re coming from.”
“You’re just asking for vehicles, right? You don’t want any of my detectives?” Captain Calmon asked.
“Just the vehicles. We’ll use Special Operations and Homicide detectives for surveillance until we run out of people.”
“Inspector,” Captain Mikkles said. “I don’t have any undercover cars to spare. The only way I could give you vehicles is to take them off jobs.”
“Then that’s the way it’ll have to be,” Wohl said, “unless Inspector Weisbach can give me two right now.”
Weisbach took out his cellular and punched an autodial number.
“This is Weisbach,” he announced. “How many covert cars-anything suitable for surveillance in a project-can I get out of the warehouse right now?”
The Internal Affairs Division, which is engaged primarily in investigating policemen, had a fairly large fleet of bona fide “civilian” cars and other vehicles because very few policemen cannot spot an unmarked car in the first glance. The vehicles- many of them forfeitures in drug cases-were kept in a warehouse several blocks from the IAD offices on Dungan Road.
He waited and listened, and then turned to Wohl.
“I’ve got two pretty beat-up vans and a Chrysler, almost new, you can have right now. Maybe tomorrow we can do better.”
“They’re in the warehouse?” Wohl asked. Weisbach nodded. “Then we have to figure a way to get them out to Special Operations.”
“I’m here in my car,” Weisbach said. “I could run a couple of people by the warehouse.”
The IAD warehouse had no identifying signs on it, and IAD tried to preserve its anonymity by never going near it in marked or unmarked cars.
“Can you carry four people?” Wohl asked.
Weisbach nodded.
“Then we’ll do that,” Wohl said.
“Do I get an explanation of what’s going on?” Weisbach asked. “I’d kind of like to know.”
“Well, if you’re going to be difficult,” Wohl said, and turned to Captain Mikkles. “Mick, I’m going to have to have two more cars in, say, two hours. If that means you have to call off a surveillance, so be it.”
“Yes, sir,” Mikkles said. It was obvious he did not like the order.
“Okay,” Wohl said. “Then let’s go out there, and I’ll explain, for what I really hope is the last time, what’s going on.”
Just about everybody in the outer office stopped talking and directed their attention toward Captain Quaire’s office as Wohl and the others filed out of it.
“For you, Inspector,” Captain Michael J. Sabara said, handing Wohl one of the phones on Captain Quaire’s desk. ?
??It’s Mickey O’Hara.”
