she could either give him a single room with a single bed, or a single room with a double bed, or a small suite with a double bed in the bedroom and a sitting room.
“Does the small suite have a desk?” Marion asked.
“Yes, and so does the single with a double bed,” the woman said.
“Then the single with the double bed, please,” Marion said. “I need a desk.”
She told him how much, and he asked if there was a weekly rate, and she told him there was, so he paid for a week in advance, and asked for a receipt.
He counted the money in his wallet while she was making out the receipt. He had only one hundred and four dollars.
I probably will not need more, Marion decided, but it is always good to be prepared. When I go out later, I will find a branch of Girard Trust Bank and cash a check.
Another colored lady in a robe and a white whatchamacallit around her head appeared and tried to take his suitcases.
He was made uncomfortable by the notion of a woman carrying his bags.
“I’ll take those,” Marion said.
“You take one, and I’ll take the other,” she said with a smile.
She led him to the elevator, which she operated herself, and took him to a very nice room on the sixth floor that overlooked North Broad Street.
He gave her a dollar.
“For the Lord’s work, you understand,” she said.
“Of course.”
“I hope you enjoy your stay with us.”
“Thank you.”
“Praise Jesus!”
“Praise the Lord!”
The room, Marion found on inspection, was immaculate. Everything seemed a bit old, and well worn, but the state of cleanliness left nothing to be desired.
Cleanliness, Marion thought, is next to godliness.
He went to the suitcases, hung up the clothing they contained, and then picked up the Bible that was neatly centered on the desk. He sat down in an upholstered chair.
He closed his eyes, and then opened the Bible, and then put his finger on a page.
If the Lord wants to send me a message, what better way? And then, in an hour or so, I will go back out to the airport and get the rest of my things. This time I will have the driver drop me two blocks farther up North Broad Street.
He opened his eyes to see what passage of Holy Scripture the Lord might have selected for him.
He saw that he was in the second chapter of Haggai, the seventeenth verse.
Marion was not very familiar with Haggai.
“17. I smote you with blasting and with mildew and with hail in all the labours of your hands; yet ye turned not to me, saith the Lord.”
Marion read it again and again and again, trying to understand what it meant.
At quarter to ten the private number on the desk of Staff Inspector Peter Wohl rang. Officer Paul O’Mara answered it in the prescribed manner.
“Inspector Wohl’s office, Officer O’Mara speaking, sir.”
“This is H. Charles Larkin, Secret Service. May I speak with the inspector, please?”
“I’m sorry, sir. The inspector is not available.”
“This is important. Where can I reach him?”
“Just a moment, sir.”
O’Mara went quickly to Captain Sabara’s office.
“Captain, that Secret Service guy is on the inspector’s private line. He says it’s important.”
“Does he have a name?”
“Mr. Larkin, sir.”
Sabara went into Wohl’s office and picked up the telephone.
“Good morning, Mr. Larkin. Mike Sabara. Can I help you?”
“I really wanted to talk to Peter, Mike.”
“He won’t be here until after lunch, and I don’t really know how to reach him.”
“That’s not a polite way of saying he doesn’t want to talk to me, is it?”
“No,” Sabara said. “I . . . Not for dissemination, he’s been promoted to Inspector. He’s in the Commissioner’s office.”
“Well good for him,” Larkin said, then added, “Something has come up. May have come up. An ATF guy from Atlantic City has found evidence of a recent series of high-explosive detonations under odd circumstances.”
“Really?”
“I just this minute got the call. It may or not be our guy. But on the other hand, it’s all anybody’s turned up. I’m going to the scene ... it’s in the Pine Barrens in Jersey . . . and I’d sort of hoped Peter would either go with me, or send somebody else.”
“I can’t leave,” Sabara said.
“What about Malone?”
“He’s at the Roundhouse, and I don’t expect him back for at least an hour.”
“What about Payne? He at least knows what we’re up against.”
“When and where do you want him?”
“Here. Ten minutes ago.”
“He’ll be twenty minutes late. He’s on his way.”
“Thank you, Mike. I