Inspector Porter nodded at Officer O’Mara but said nothing, and did not offer to shake hands.
What is that, Wohl thought, guilt by association? Or is shaking hands with a lowly police officer beneath your dignity?
He glanced at Quaire, and their eyes met for a moment.
I don’t think Quaire likes Porter any more than I do.
“I saw your predecessor last night,” Captain Quaire said, as much to Wohl as to O’Mara. “You heard about what happened at the Acme on Baltimore Avenue?”
“I didn’t hear Payne shot them,” Wohl said without thinking about it.
Quaire laughed. “Not this time, Peter. He was just a spectator.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
“That’s why we’re here,” Quaire said. “The commissioner wants to be absolutely sure the shooting was justified.”
“Was there a question?”
“Hell no. Both of the doers fired first.”
The commissioner’s secretary appeared in the conference room door.
“The commissioner will see you now, Inspector,” she said, and then realized there were two men answering to that title in the room, and added, “. . . Wohl.”
“Thank you,” Peter Wohl said.
If I needed one more nail in my coffin, that was it. Porter knows I just walked in here. And I get to enter the throne room first.
SEVEN
“Good morning, Peter,” Commissioner Czernich said, smiling broadly. He was a large, stocky, well-tailored man with a full head of silver hair. “Sit down.”
“Good morning, sir.”
“Would you like some coffee?”
“Please.”
“Black, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
I don’t think I am about to have my head handed to me on a platter. But on the other hand, I don’t think he called me in here to express his appreciation for my all-around splendid performance of duty. And nothing has gone wrong in Special Operations, or I would have heard about it.
“How’s your dad?”
“Fine, thank you. I had dinner with him on Monday.”
“Give him my regards, the next time you see him.”
“I’ll do that, thank you.”
“You see the Overnights, Peter?”
The Overnights were a summary of major crimes, and/or significant events affecting the Police Department that were compiled from reports from the districts, the Detective Divisions, and major Bureaus, and then distributed to senior commanders.
“No, sir. I came here first thing.”
Obviously, I’ve missed something, and I am about to hear what it is, and why it is my fault.
“Stakeout took down two critters at an Acme on the Baltimore Pike,” Czernich said. “It’s almost a sure thing these were the characters we’ve been looking for. If it was a good shooting, we’re home free.”
“I did hear about that, sir. And from what I heard, I think it was a good shooting.”
“Every once in a while, Peter, we do do something right, don’t we?”
I’ll be damned. I didn’t do anything wrong.
“Yes, sir, we do.”
“The Vice President’s coming to town.”
“I saw it in the newspaper.”
“He’s coming by airplane. He’s going to do something at Independence Hall. Then he wants to make a triumphal march up Market Street to 30th Street Station, and get on a train.”
“ ‘March,’ sir?”
“Figure of speech. What do they call it, ‘motorcade’?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I talked to the Secret Service guy. He really wants a Highway escort. On wheels, I mean. I think he thinks, or at least the Vice President does, that that makes them look good on the TV.”
“Well, there’s nothing I know of, sir, that would keep us from giving Dignitary Protection all the wheels they want.”
Highway Patrol, as its name suggested, had been formed before World War II, as “The Bandit Chasers.” That had evolved into the “Motor Bandit Patrol” and finally into the Highway Patrol. It had originally been equipped with motorcycles (“wheels”) only, and its members authorized a special uniform suitable for motorcyclists, breeches, leather boots, leather jackets, and billed caps with an un-stiffened crown.
It had evolved over the years into an elite unit that, although it patrolled the Schuylkill Expressway and the interstate highways, spent most of its effort patrolling high-crime areas in two-man RPCs. Other RPCs in the Department were manned by only one police officer, and patrolled only in the district to which they were assigned.
The evolution had begun when command of Highway had been given to Captain Jerry Carlucci, and had continued under his benevolent, and growing, influence as he rose through the ranks to commissioner, and continued now that he was mayor.
Applying for, being selected for, and then serving a tour in Highway was considered an almost essential career step for officers who had ambition for higher rank. Peter Wohl had been a Highway sergeant before his promotion to lieutenant and assignment to the