“In other words, you broke into this guy’s car, is that what you’re saying?”
“Yeah, and he had ninety-four hundred dollars in an envelope in the glove compartment, an ashtray full of cigarette butts with lipstick on them, and this.”
Martinez threw something at Matt who caught it. It was a book of matches. Oaks and Pines Resort Lodge.
“What’s this?”
“It’s a fancy place in the Poconos,” Jesus said.
“So?”
“I called a guy I know in Vice and asked him did he ever hear about it, and he told me that there’s a room in the back for high rollers; that the word is that the Mob owns it.”
“So?”
“This doesn’t smell to you, Payne?” Martinez said, seemingly torn between surprise and contempt.
“I take back what I said before. You should not go to Internal Affairs. What you have is a guy that gambles. At this lodge, and in Las Vegas. And right now, he’s lucky. The only thing I can see he’s done illegally is gamble in the Poconos. That’s a misdemeanor, as opposed to a felony. Like being in possession of burglar tools is a felony.”
“What did I tell you he’d say, Hay-zus?” Charley McFadden said.
“I got the feeling, Charley,” Jesus said. “This guy is dirty.”
“What’s he doing?”
“They’re smuggling drugs through the airport, most likely off Eastern Airlines flights from Puerto Rico, and probably from Mexico City flights too.”
“You know this?”
“Everybody knows it, Matt,” Charley said. “The feds, Customs Service, and the Bureau of Drugs and Dangerous Narcotics. . . .”
“Narcotics and Dangerous Drugs,” Jesus interrupted to correct him.
“Whatever the fuck they are, they’re all over the place.”
“They haven’t caught this guy, then, have they?” Matt responded.
“I want to catch this fucker,” Jesus said.
You’re not a detective, Martinez. You’re a simple police officer who took the detective’s exam and flunked it.
You are an arrogant, self-satisfied shit, aren’t you, Matthew Payne? Martinez is not only not a rookie, he’s spent a lot of time dealing with drug people when he was in Narcotics. He knows what he’s talking about.
“What do you want from me, Hay-zus?”
“I told him he ought to go to Wohl,” Charley said. “He says he doesn’t want to.”
“Why not?” Matt asked, meeting Martinez’s eyes.
“I don’t work for Wohl anymore, for one thing. And even if I did, how the hell could I go to Wohl and tell him the reason I know this fucker runs around with almost ten thousand in his glove compartment is because I looked?”
“ ‘Broke into his car’ are the words you’re looking for,” Matt said.
“I told Hay-zus Wohl, or at least Pekach, would listen to him. And he could tell them the car was unlocked.”
“That’s splitting a hair,” Matt thought out loud. “That wouldn’t wash with either Wohl or Pekach. And I suppose you know that if you’d found ten thousand dollars’ worth of cocaine in his glove compartment, it would be inadmissible evidence.”
“Hey, I was a Narc when you were Mr. Joe College Payne,” Jesus said. “I know what’s admissible and what isn’t.”
“Hay-zus, you don’t have a thing on this guy,” Matt said.
“He wants to follow him, and get something on him,” Charley said.
“You mean, he wants us to surveil this guy, right?”
“I told you he’d tell us to go fuck ourselves,” Martinez said.
“He can’t do it himself, this Dago knows him.”
“We’re wasting our time. Let’s get out of here,” Martinez said.
“Hay-zus is usually right, when he smells something,” McFadden went on.
“Come on, let’s get out of here,” Martinez repeated.
“What do you expect to find, Martinez, if we start to follow this guy around?” Matt asked.
“Association with known criminals,” Martinez said. “That would give me enough to go to Wohl or Internal Affairs.”
He keeps bringing up Wohl. Why? He doesn’t work for Wohl anymore. But I do. That’s what this is all about. He figures I could go to Wohl.
“For the sake of argument, Hay-zus,” Matt said. “Let’s suppose we follow this guy, and either he spots us before we catch him with some Mob type, or that you’re wrong. He’d really be pissed. And we would have some explaining to do.”
“In other words, no, right?”
“I didn’t say that,” Matt said. “I said what if.”
“Then I would take my lumps.”
“We all would take our lumps,” Matt said.
“This guy is dirty,” Martinez said. “We’re cops.”
Matt exhaled audibly.
“What have you got in mind?”
“You don’t look like a cop,” Martinez said. “You drive a Porsche. You could get into this place in the Poconos.”
“How would we know when he was going to be there? And if we did,