When Leslie had discussed the incident with Sergeant Jason Washington of the Special Operations Division of the Philadelphia Police Department, Leslie had explained that he had felt it necessary to take Kellog's life because Kellog had seen his face, and as a policeman, would probably be able to find him and arrest him for burglary.

The question Hormel was really asking, Callis understood, was whether the City of Philadelphia wanted to go through the expense of a trial, seeking a sentence that would incarcerate Leslie for the rest of his natural life, or whether Leslie should be permitted to cop a plea, which would see him removed from society for, say, twenty years, which was, in practical terms, about as long behind bars as a life sentence would mean.

Ordinarily, there would be no question of that. The full wrath and fury of the law would suddenly descend on the shoulders of anyone who had in cold blood taken the life of a police officer. Or even someone who had shot a cop by mistake, while in the act of doing anything illegal.

Ordinarily, Callis himself would have personally prosecuted Leslie. For one thing, he really believed that letting a scumbag get away with shooting a cop really would undermine the very foundations of civilized society. For another, press reports of the vigorous prosecution of such a villain by the district attorney himself would be remembered at election time.

It was not much of a secret that District Attorney Callis would be willing to serve the people of Philadelphia as their mayor if called upon to do so. And neither was it lost upon him that one of the reasons the incumbent mayor of Philadelphia, the Hon. Jerome H. "Jerry" Carlucci, had been elected and reelected with such comfortable margins was his reputation of being personally tough on criminals.

But the case of Leslie was not like, for example, that of some scumbag shooting a cop during a bank robbery. For one thing, Officer Kellog had not been on duty at the time of his tragic demise. Perhaps more important, Leslie was going to be represented at his trial by the Office of the Public Defender, specifically by a lawyer whom Callis most commonly thought of-not for publication, of course-as "The Goddamned Nun."

Ms. Imogene McCarthy-who had been known as Sister Luke during her ten years as a cloistered nun-had two characteristics that annoyed Callis, sometimes greatly. She devoutly believed that there were always extenuating circumstances-poverty, lack of education, parental abuse, drug addiction-which caused people like James Howard Leslie to do what they did, and which tragic circumstances should trigger not punishment but compassion and mercy on the part of society; and she was a very skillful attorney, both in the courtroom and in the appeals processes.

Tony Callis was determined that The Goddamned Nun, as good as she was, was not going to get her client off on this one. Indeed, in her heart of hearts, she probably didn't want to see him walk. What she didn't want was for the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania to put James Howard Leslie into handcuffs and march him off to Rockview Prison in State College for what the judge had just told him would be incarceration for the rest of his natural life, thereby destroying all of his hopes to be educated, rehabilitated, and returned to society as a productive, law-abiding member thereof.

What, Callis believed, McCarthy saw from her perspective as a reasonable solution to the case of James Howard Leslie was that he be allowed to plead guilty to Murder Three (voluntary manslaughter), a lesser offense that, she would be prepared to argue, would not only punish him and remove him from society for a very long period-say, seven to ten years-so that he could cause others no harm, but save both the Office of the District Attorney and the Office of the Public Defender the considerable cost in time and money of a trial and the following appeals processes.

There was a certain logic to her position. If Kellog had not been a police officer, Callis might have entertained her plea-bargain offer. But Kellog had been a cop, and Leslie had killed him in cold blood, and deserved to be locked up permanently. Strapping the murdering son of a bitch into the electric chair was unfortunately-thanks to bleeding hearts and the Supreme Court-no longer possible. The only way to get him locked up for life was to bring him to trial.

After some thought-it would do his political ambitions little good, he had reasoned, if he personally prosecuted Leslie only to have The Goddamned Nun get him off with something like seven to ten-Callis had decided to delegate the responsibility for prosecuting Leslie to Assistant District Attorney Hormel.

"Phebus wants to prosecute," Harry Hormel said. "He asked me."

Anton C. Phebus, Esq., was another of the assistant district attorneys under Callis's supervision.

Callis was not surprised that Tony Phebus wanted to prosecute Leslie, or even that Phebus had asked Hormel for the job. Phebus was an ex-cop, and thus felt a personal interest in seeing to it that Leslie, after a fair trial, would be locked up permanently. And Harry Hormel was de facto if not de jure, like one of Mr. Orwell's pigs, the most equal of all the assistant district attorneys.

"You don't want to prosecute?" Callis asked.

"I will," Hormel said. "But if Phebus does, it will give him the experience."

Phebus was a relative newcomer both to the practice of law and the District Attorney's Office. He had served twelve years as a police officer, rising to sergeant, and attending law school at Temple University whenever he could fit the hours into a policeman's always changing schedule. He had joined the Office of the District Attorney fourteen months before, shortly after being admitted to the bar.

Callis suddenly remembered-he had a very good memory, which had served him well-that Phebus had been a sergeant in the Narcotics Unit of the Philadelphia Police Department when he had been a cop, and that Jerome H. Kellog had also been assigned to the Narcotics Unit.

"He and Kellog were buddies in Narcotics?" Callis asked. "Partners?"

It would be unwise to have a man with a really personal interest in sending the accused away for life serve as his prosecutor.

"No. I checked that out. They never worked together, and they weren't friends," Hormel said.

Callis was not surprised that Hormel had checked out that possible problem area before coming to see him.

"What are you suggesting, Harry? That maybe Phebus couldn't get around McCarthy?"

"We have everything we need to get a conviction," Hormel said. "A statement, everything. Phebus stands as good a chance of getting a conviction as I do. Miss Mc-Carthy 'll give him her best shot, which would be a good learning experience for him both at the trial and during the appeals."

Obviously, Callis thought, Phebus has got himself a rabbi. Harry wants him to try this case. Probably because he figures Phebus will not resign to go into private practice anytime soon.

Only a few assistant district attorneys make a career of it. Most leave to enter private practice after a few years on the job. Harry's obviously interested in keeping Phebus. Nothing wrong in that. And Phebus is the kind of guy-he's no mental giant, and he has a civil service mentality-who will want to stay on here.

So what's the downside?

The Goddamned Nun makes a fool of him, and Leslie walks. Unlikely, but possible. But-even if it's that bad-the public perception will be that I made an understandable mistake in assigning an ex-cop to prosecute a cop-killer. That's better than McCarthy making a fool of me or Harry.

More likely-we've got a strong case-Phebus will be able to get a conviction. The District Attorney's Office will get the credit for the conviction, and I may even get a little credit for assigning an ex-cop to prosecute a cop-killer. The cops, at least, will appreciate that.