"I'll bet you did," Lowenstein said.

Shame on you. Commissioner Marshall, Wohl thought. You broke the rules. You are not supposed to present Chief Lowenstein with a fait accompli. You are supposed to involve him in the decision-making process. Otherwise, he is very liable to piss on your sparkling idea.

"Matt, of course, is right," Chief Coughlin went on. "There is no way a fed could go out to the Airport Unit and pass himself off as a cop. And, no offense, Mario, I personally would be very surprised if the people out there weren't very suspicious of the corporal you sent out there when their corporal got killed."

"He feels very strongly that no one suspected he worked for me," Chief Delachessi said.

"What did you expect him to say?" Lowenstein said, somewhat unpleasantly. "'Boy, Chief, sending me out there was really dumb. They made me right away'?"

"So what we need out there is a real cop…" Coughlin said.

"Are you inferring, Denny, there's something wrong with the guy I sent out there?" Chief Delachessi interrupted.

"Come on, Mario, you know I didn't mean anything like that," Coughlin said placatingly.

"That's what it sounded like!"

"Then I apologize," Coughlin said, sounding genuinely contrite.

"What Chief Coughlin meant to say, I think," Commissioner Marshall said, "was that if we're to uncover anything dirty going on out thereand I'mnot saying anything is-we need somebody out there who will (a) not make people suspicious and (b) who will be there for the long haul, not just a temporary assignment, like Mario's corporal."

The rest of you guys might as well surrender, Peter Wohl thought. If Marshall and Coughlin have come up with this brilliant idea, whatever it is, there's only one guy who can shoot it down, and he's got a sign on his desk reading Mayor Jerry Carlucci.

"Where are you going to get this guy?" Lowenstein asked.

"We think we have him," Coughlin said. "We wanted to get your input."

Yeah, you did. As long as the input is "Jesus, what a great idea, why didn't I think of that? "

"We need an officer out there," Commissioner Marshall said, "whose assignment will not make anybody suspicious, and an officer who is experienced in working undercover."

"You remember the two undercover officers, from Narcotics, who bagged the guy who shot Dutch Moffitt?" Chief Coughlin asked.

"Mutt and Jeff," Lowenstein said.

Now I know why I was invited, Peter Wohl thought.

The officers in question were Police Officers Charles McFadden and Jesus Martinez, who had been assigned to Narcotics right out of the Police Academy. McFadden was a very large Irish lad from South Philadelphia, in whom, Wohl was sure, Chief Coughlin saw a clone of himself. Martinez was very small, barely over departmental minimum height and weight requirements, of Puerto Rican ancestry. They were called "Mutt and Jeff" because of their size.

Staff Inspector Peter Wohl knew a good deal about both officers. They had been assigned to Special Operations after they had run to earth an Irish junkie from Northeast Philadelphia who had shot Captain Dutch Moffitt, then the Highway Patrol commander, to death, and thus blown their cover. Assigned, he now reminded himself, through the influence of Chief Inspector Dennis V. Coughlin.

"They now work for Peter," Coughlin said.

"Doing what, Peter?" Captain Delachessi asked.

"They're Highway Patrolmen," Wohl replied.

'They won't be for long," Coughlin said.

"Sir?" Wohl asked, surprised.

"We got the results of the detective exam today." Commissioner Marshall said. "Both of them passed in the top twenty."

"So, incidentally, Peter, did Matt Payne," Chief Coughlin added, " He was third."

Officer Matthew M. Payne was Peter Wohl's administrative assistant, another gift from Chief Dennis V. Coughlin.

"I thought he might squeeze past," Wohl replied. Matt Payne had graduated from the University of Pennsylvania cum laude. Wohl didn't think he would have trouble with the detective's examination.

"Well, hold off on congratulating him," Coughlin said. "Any of them. The results of the examination are confidential until Civil Service people make the announcement. No word of who passed is to leave this room, if I have to say that."

"Let's try this scenario on for size," Commissioner Marshall said. "And see if it binds in the crotch. Martinez's name does not appear on the examination list as having passed. He is disappointed, maybe even a little bitter. And he asks for a transfer. They've been riding his ass in Highway, Denny tells me, because of his size. He doesn't seem to fit in. But he's still the guy who got the guy who killed Dutch Moffitt, and he deserves a little better than getting sent to some district to work school crossings or in a sector car. So Denny sends him out to the Airport Unit."

Both Commissioner Marshall and Chief Inspector Coughlin looked very pleased with themselves.

If there's going to be an objection to this, it will have to come from Lowenstein. He's the only one who would be willing to stand up against these two.

Chief Lowenstein leaned forward and tapped a three-quarter-inch ash into an ashtray.

"That'd work," he said. "Martinez is a mean little fucker. Not too dumb, either."

From you, Chief Lowenstein, that is indeed praise of the highest order.

"Do you think he would be willing, Chief?" Wohl asked.

"Yeah, I think so," Coughlin said. "I already had a little talk with him. No specifics. Just would he take an interesting undercover assignment?"

You sonofabitch, Denny Coughlin! You did that, went directly to one of my men, with something like this, without saying a word to me?

"What we would like from you gentlemen," Commissioner Marshall said, "is to play devil's advocate."

"Will the commissioner hold still for this?" Lowenstein said.

"No problem," Commissioner Marshall said.

The translation of that is that there was a third party, by the name of Carlucci, involved in this brainstorm. The commissioner either knows that, or will shortly be told, and will then devoutly believe the idea was divinely inspired.

"What we thought," Coughlin went on, "is that Peter can serve as the connection. We don't want anyone to connect Martinez with Internal Affairs, or Organized Crime, or Narcotics. If Martinez comes up with something for them, or vice versa, they'll pass it through Peter. You see any problems with that, Peter?"

"No, sir."

"Anyone else got anything?" Commissioner Marshall asked.

There was nothing.

"Then all that remains to be done," Coughlin said, "is to get with Martinez and drop the other shoe. What I suggest, Peter, is that you have Martinez meet us here."

"Yes, sir. When?"

"Now's as good a time as any, wouldn't you say?"

Officer Matthew M. Payne, a pleasant-looking young man of twentytwo, who looked far more like a University of Pennsylvania student, which eighteen months before he had been, than what comes to mind when the words "cop" or "police officer" are used, was waiting near the elevators, with the other "drivers" of those attending the first deputy commissioner's meeting. They were all in civilian clothing.

Technically, Officer Payne was not a "driver," for drivers are a privilege accorded only to chief inspectors or better, and his boss was only a staff inspector. His official title was administrative assistant.

There is a military analogy. There is a military rank structure within the Police Department. On the very rare occasions when Peter Wohl wore a uniform, it carried on its epaulets gold oak leaves, essentially identical to those worn by majors in the armed forces. Inspectors wore silver oak leaves, like those of lieutenant colonels, and chief inspectors, an eagle, like those worn by colonels.