After a moment, Wohl said, “Why Payne? Is he through the Academy?”
“I had a hunch, Peter,” Coughlin said, “that Matt Payne will be of more value to you, and thus to the Department, than he would be if we had sent him to one of the districts.”
“I’m surprised he stuck it out at the Academy,” Wohl said.
“I wasn’t,” Coughlin said, flatly.
“What are you talking about? Using him undercover?” Wohl asked.
“Maybe,” Coughlin said. “We don’t get many rookies like him. Something will come up.”
“The only orders I really have are to do something about this rapist?” Wohl asked.
“Your orders are to get the Special Operations Division up and running. That means trying to keep Highway from giving the Ledger an excuse to call them the Gestapo. And it means getting ACT up and running. There’s a Sergeant, a smart young guy named Eddy Frizell, in Staff Services, who’s been handling all the paperwork for ACT. The Federal Grant applications, what kind of money, where it’s supposed to be used, that sort of thing. I called down there just before you came in and told him to move himself and his files out to Highway. He’ll probably be there before you get there. Czernick told Whelan to give you whatever you think you need in terms of equipment and money, from the contingency fund, to be reimbursed when the Federal Grant comes in. Frizell should be able to tell you what you need.”
“The mayor expects me to catch the rapist,” Wohl said, and paused.
“That’s your first priority.”
“Who am I supposed to use to do that? Those kids from Narcotics?” He saw a flash of annoyance, even anger, on Coughlin’s face. “Sorry, Chief,” he added quickly. “I didn’t mean for that to sound the way it came out.”
“The initial manning for ACT is forty cops, plus four each Corporals, Sergeants, and Lieutenants; a Captain, four Detectives, and of course, you,” Coughlin said. “I already sent a teletype asking for volunteers to transfer in. You can pick whoever you want.”
“And if nobody volunteers? Or if all the volunteers are guys one step ahead of being assigned to rubber gun squad or being sent to the farm in their districts?”
Coughlin chuckled. “Being sent to the farm” was the euphemism for alcoholic officers being sent off to dry out; the rubber gun squad was for officers whose peers did not think they could be safely entrusted with a real one.
“Then you can pick, within reason, anybody you want,” Coughlin said. “Making this thing work is important to the mayor; therefore to Czernick and me. You’re not going to give me trouble about this, Peter, are you?”
“No, of course not, Chief,” Wohl said. “It just came out of the blue, and it’s taking some getting used to.”
Chief Coughlin stood up and put out his hand.
“You can handle this, Peter,” Coughlin said. “Congratulations and good luck.”
He had, Peter Wohl realized as he put out his hand to take Coughlin’s, not only been dismissed but given all the direction he was going to get.
“Thank you, Chief,” he said.
Wohl went to the parking lot, opened the door of his car, and rolled down the windows, standing outside a moment until some of the heat could escape. Then he got in and started the engine, and turned on the air conditioner. He cranked up the window and shifted into reverse.
Then he changed his mind. He reached over to the glove compartment and took out the microphone.
“Radio, S-Sam One Oh One,” he said.
“S-Sam One Oh One, Radio,” Police Radio replied. They didn’t seem at all surprised to hear the new call sign, Wohl thought.
“Have you got a location on Highway One?” Wohl asked.
The reply was almost immediate: “Out of service at Highway.”
“What about N-Two?” Wohl asked, guessing that Dave Pekach, who was, now that he had been promoted, the second-ranking man in Narcotics, would be using that call sign.
“Also out of service at Highway, S-Sam One Oh One,” Police Radio replied.
“If either of them come back on the air, ask them to meet me at Highway. Thank you, Radio,” Wohl said, and put the microphone back in the glove compartment. Then he backed out of the parking space and headed for Highway Patrol headquarters.
NINE