turf-Davis wanted us to come to the FBI office-and, if possible, keep him waiting.'
Walter Davis, trailed by Special Agents Howard C. Jernigan and Raymond Leibowitz, walked up to the porter's desk in the Rittenhouse Club at 4:15 and announced, 'I'm Mr. Davis. I'm expecting a gentleman named Coughlin.'
The porter turned and examined the membership board.
I'll be damned. Coughlin is a member. Of course. He would have to be. He suggested this place to meet. Why didn't I think of that?
'Chief Coughlin is in the bar, sir,' the porter said, his tone suggesting that life would be much easier if stupid members took a look at the membership board themselves.
Coughlin, Peter Wohl, and Matt Payne were sitting at a large table-with room for six chairs-and had been there, Davis saw, at least long enough to get bar service.
The three of them stood up as Davis approached.
'You're looking well, Walter,' Coughlin said, offering his large hand.
'As you do, Dennis,' Davis said, and offered his hand first to Wohl-'Thank you for making time for me, Peter '-and then to Matt. 'How are you, Payne?'
'Very well, thank you, sir,' Payne said.
'You've met these fellows,' Davis said. 'But let me introduce them to Peter and Dennis. Raymond Leibowitz and Howard Jernigan.'
The men shook hands.
A waiter appeared. Davis ordered a Jack Daniel's on the rocks, Leibowitz the same, and Jernigan ginger ale.
'I'd really like to be somewhere where we won't be overheard,' Davis said. 'Is there somewhere…'
'Matty's father told me they spent a lot of money designing this room,' Coughlin said, gesturing at the high, paneled ceiling, 'as someplace where people could have discreet conversations. But if you're uncomfortable, Walter, there are private rooms.'
'No. I'm sure this will be fine,' Davis said.
'You're the commanding officer of Special Operations, I understand, Inspector,' Jernigan said, oozing charm.
'Yes, I am,' Peter said, and added mischievously, 'I understand you've seen our headquarters.'
Jernigan colored.
Coughlin laughed, and after a second, somewhat artificially, Davis joined in.
'Let's clear the air,' Coughlin said. 'Detective Payne should have told your people he was a police officer, and he should not have taken them on-what should we call it? — a tour of the scenic attractions of North Philadelphia, and he is prepared to apologize, isn't that so, Matty?'
'Yes, sir. We just got off on the wrong foot. I'm sorry.'
The waiter appeared with the drinks.
'I propose a toast to peace, friendship, and cooperation between the Philadelphia Police Department and the Federal Bureau of Investigation,' Coughlin said, and raised his glass.
'A very appropriate toast, one I quickly agree to, under the circumstances,' Davis said.
'What circumstances would those be, Walter?' Coughlin asked.
'I think I'll let Raymond get into that,' Davis said. 'But first let me tell you that Raymond and Howard aren't in my office. They operate out of FBI Headquarters in Washington; they're members of the Anti-Terrorism Group.'
'Anti-Terrorism?' Matt blurted.
Coughlin and Wohl frowned at him.
'Before we came to see you, Detective Payne,' Leibowitz said, 'there just wasn't time to check in with the Philadelphia office. If there was, we would have known who you were. Are.'
'I thought you were investigating the kidnapping of Susan Reynolds,' Matt said. 'Actually, the nonkidnapping. '
' 'Kidnapping'?' Leibowitz said, visibly surprised. 'Where'd you get that?'
'Well, then, what the hell were you investigating? She's rich; rich people get kidnapped; she was missing-the FBI knew she was missing. Her father is a very important man; I figured that was why the FBI was working on a weekend.'
'Jesus Christ!' Leibowitz said. 'You really thought we were investigating her kidnapping?'
'I had the feeling you thought I had done it,' Matt said. 'Understandably, I was a little annoyed.'
'Well, I'll tell you what we were investigating, what we are investigating,' Leibowitz said. 'But it can't go any further than this room.'
'I'm sure, Leibowitz,' Davis said pointedly, 'that we can trust the discretion of Chief Coughlin, Inspector Wohl, and Detective Payne.'
Special Agent Leibowitz's face showed that he was more than a little uncomfortable trusting the discretion of Detective Payne.
'Does the name Bryan C. Chenowith mean anything to you, Detective Payne?'
Matt searched his memory, then shook his head, 'no.'
'Eloise Anne Fitzgerald?'
Matt shook his head again.
'Jennifer Ollwood?'
Matt shook his head.
'Edgar L. Cole?'
Matt held up both hands in a gesture of helplessness.
'Never heard of any of them,' he said.
'They're all wanted by both the federal government and the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania on a number of charges-'
'University of Pittsburgh?' Chief Coughlin interrupted.
'Right,' Leibowitz said.
Matt looked at Coughlin curiously
'So far as we're concerned,' Leibowitz went on, 'we want them, and some others, on-among other federal charges-unlawful flight to avoid prosecution.'
'Prosecution for what?' Wohl asked.
'Murder.'
'Correct me if I'm wrong,' Coughlin said. 'They're the people who blew up the Biological Sciences building at the University of Pittsburgh?'
'Thereby causing the unlawful deaths of eleven persons, according to the indictments handed down by the grand jury in Allegheny County-Pittsburgh.'
'As a gesture of their displeasure with the use of monkeys in medical research, right?' Coughlin said, now bitterly. 'Eleven innocent people were blown up!'
'Yes, sir,' Leibowitz said.
'What's this got to do with Susan Reynolds?' Matt asked, unable to easily accept the accusation that Daffy's friend had been involved in blowing anything up.
'We have reason to believe Miss Reynolds has in the past, and is now, aiding and abetting these fugitives in their unlawful flight,' Leibowitz said. 'Sufficient reason for us to have obtained permission in federal court for a wiretap on her parents' residence and, for that matter, wherever she happens to be.'
'I'm more than a little confused,' Wohl said. 'How did you guys get to Matt?'
'Well, we'd like to have enough people to surveille her around the clock, but we don't,' Leibowitz said. 'But we listen to her phone calls, and when something interesting comes up-her mother getting excited that Susan didn't make the usual 'Good night, Mommy dear' phone call and calling Mrs. Nesbitt to find out where Susan was, for example-we act on it.'
'She disappeared in the company of a guy named Matt Payne,' Jernigan amplified. 'Was she really off somewhere passing money, or whatever, to Bryan Chenowith, and his murderous band of animal activists? And who is Matt Payne? Is he part of the animal-activist underground railroad? Just as soon as we got the word from the
