Part 43 (1/2)
Was.h.i.+ngton didn't wait for Matt to catch up with him. On the stair landing Matt looked down and saw Was.h.i.+ngton going down the stairs two at a time. He ran after him and caught up with him in the courtyard. By then Was.h.i.+ngton was in his car, and had taken the microphone from the glove compartment.
”W-William One, W-William Seven,” Was.h.i.+ngton said.
”W-William One.”
”Inspector, I'm at City Hall. Can I meet you somewhere?”
”I'm headed for Bustleton and Bowler. Did Payne find you?''
”Yeah. But I would rather talk to you before you get to the office.”
”Okay. I'm at Broad and 66th Avenue at the Oak Lane Diner. I'll wait for you there.”
”On my way. Thank you,” Was.h.i.+ngton said, and put the microphone away. He looked at Payne. ”You ever read Through the Looking Gla.s.s!”
Matt nodded.
”Profound book, although I understand he wrote it stoned on cocaine. Things really are more Curiouser than you would believe. If I lose you in traffic, Wohl's waiting for us in the Oak Lane Diner at Broad and 66th Avenue.”
He pulled the door closed and started the engine.
Matt ran across the interior courtyard to the Porsche. There was an illegal parking citation under the winds.h.i.+eld wiper.
He didn't see Was.h.i.+ngton in traffic, but when he got to the Oak Lane Diner, Was.h.i.+ngton's car was parked beside Wohl's. When he went inside, a waitress was delivering three cups of coffee to a booth table, on which Was.h.i.+ngton was spreading out the eight-by-ten photographs he had shown Sergeant Dolan.
Wohl looked up.
”Mr. Payne, well-known tracer of lost detectives,” he said, ”sit.” He slid over to make room.
Was.h.i.+ngton was smiling.
”Okay, I give up,” Wohl said. ”What am I looking at?”
Matt looked at the photographs. A neatly dressed man carrying an attache case and looking in the window of the c.o.c.ktail lounge of the Warwick Hotel. A bald-headed man driving a Pontiac. The first man getting into the Pontiac. There were a dozen variations.
”Your FBI at work,” Was.h.i.+ngton said.
”What?”
”They were apparently-what's the word they use, surveilling?-surveilling Mr. DeZego.”
”Where'd these come from?”
”Sergeant Dolan.”
”Why haven't we seen them before?”
”You're not going to believe this,” Was.h.i.+ngton said.
”Try me.”
”Sergeant Dolan does not like the FBI.”
”So what? I'm not all that in love with them myself,” Wohl said.
”So he decided to zing them,” Was.h.i.+ngton said.
”What does that mean?”
”He wanted to make them squirm, to let them know that their surveillance was not as discreet as they like to think it is.”
”You've lost me.”
”He sent the FBI office pictures of themselves at work,” Was.h.i.+ngton said. ”In a plain brown envelope.”
”Jesus Christ, that's childis.h.!.+” Wohl said disgustedly.
”I would tend to agree,” Was.h.i.+ngton said.
”Didn't he know Homicide would want to talk to these guys?” Wohl asked, and then, before there could be a reply, he thought of something else: ”And the G.o.dd.a.m.n FBI! They must have known what went down. Why didn't they come forward?''
”Far be it from me to cast aspersions on our federal cousins,” Was.h.i.+ngton said dryly, ”but it has sometimes been alleged that the FBI doesn't like to waste its time dealing with the local authorities-unless, of course, they can steal the arrest and get their pictures in the newspapers.”
”I'll be a son of a b.i.t.c.h!” Wohl said furiously.
”Can I say something to you as a friend, Inspector?” Was.h.i.+ngton asked.
”Sure,” Wohl said. ”I just can't believe this s.h.i.+t! G.o.d d.a.m.n those arrogant b.a.s.t.a.r.ds! DeZego was murdered! a.s.sa.s.sinated! And the f.u.c.king FBI can't be bothered with it!”
”Peter, go by the book,” Was.h.i.+ngton said.
”Meaning?”
”There is a departmental regulation that says any contact with federal agencies will be conducted through the Office of Extradepartmental Affairs. There's a captain in the Roundhouse-”
”Duffy,” Wohl said. ”Jack Duffy.”
”Right. Go through Duffy.”
Wohl looked at Was.h.i.+ngton for a long moment, his jaws working.
”When you're angry, Peter,” Was.h.i.+ngton said, ”you really give the word a whole new meaning. You get angry. And you stay angry.”
A faint smile appeared on Wohl's face.
”You remember, huh, Jason?”
”I'm one of the few people who knows that it's not true you have never lost your temper,” Was.h.i.+ngton said.