got Boldt's heart racing. 'Cleaning out the lineup' didn't help matters. What the hell? He knew Shoswitz's opinion of the newcomer, and feared the worst. But it was worse than even that. 'What I'm telling you is, you're not going to sleep tonight-you're gonna be on the phone to every goddamned officer of yours, because those officers were mine not long ago, and to a man they're the best we've got, and I'd hate to see you lose them.'
'Lose them?'
'He's sending out something like a hundred health care personnel in the morning, door to door, to verify every officer's claims of illness. Those that aren't ill will be held in violation of the guild contract and will be terminated without pay and will forfeit all benefits, including four-oh-one Ks.'
The static sat heavily on the open line. The implications were enormous: the chief would break the guild and restructure SPD in a matter of hours. Boldt could foresee a string of lawsuits stretching out over years, and a younger more vital police department for its newly installed chief. With the guild broken, he could negotiate new levels of pay and recruit from across the country, possibly cutting a deal with King County Police in the process and bringing the two departments under one roof. 'Oh, my God,' Boldt muttered into the phone.
'Your people have to report for tomorrow's day tour, Lou, or they're thrown out of the game.'
'If he fires that many people, it's going to be Molotov cocktails instead of blue bricks.'
'Just don't let it be your people. Use the emergency calling tree. We've got to drop all the animosities and get as many people back by tomorrow morning as possible.'
'Amen.'
'And, Lou? I'm calling from a pay phone, because when the chief finds out this thing leaked, he'll be looking for a scapegoat, for sure. He won't appreciate some people being tipped off and others left to eat it. But that's how it going to be, no matter how hard we try. There's no way we'll reach everyone by morning. Just so you know. I wouldn't be making calls from my home or my cell.' He added, 'The airport might work- they've got those business centers on A concourse.'
'I follow.' He sensed the man about to hang up. 'And thanks, Phil.'
'What are friends for?' The line went dead.
Palisades, a marina and upscale restaurant, hung off the south shore of the Magnolia peninsula, supported by pilings and enough docks to house several hundred pleasure craft, all neat and shipshape and sparkling white under the lights. Teak and aluminum and enough fiberglass to wrap the city in a dome.
Boldt appreciated the view of the skyline, and LaMoia's choice of location. The prices at the restaurant guaranteed they wouldn't run into fellow officers. Palisades was more for the professional set and gold card tourists. Boldt walked the docks, drinking in the cool night air and charting the determined progress of the slowly moving cavalcade of lights from the state ferries. He made out the man's distinctive silhouette from a distance. Bold. Confident. Even aggressive. You wouldn't walk up to LaMoia at night without knowing him.
Boldt approached him in silence, distant city lights reflecting in the silver black water a mirror image that looked like a giant, glowing key, or the mouth of a shark. Boldt felt an urgency to get this meeting over with and head to the pay phone. If Schock and Phillipp hadn't had their blood shed, he would have postponed the meet.
'Sorry about the cloak and dagger,' LaMoia said.
Boldt answered, 'I appreciate the call. We need to talk.' The two of them worked in concert to watch for anyone watching them, an unspoken system that had one looking toward the restaurant, the other searching the neighboring docks, then switching assignments in a dance born of years of working the field together.
LaMoia supplied: 'Many hands make light the work.'
'Yeah?' Boldt complained. 'Well, I'm a little shorthanded, thanks to you and the squad.'
'Don't go forming stereotypes, Sarge. You think I'm home watching CHiPs reruns or something? I'm working Maria's case.'
Boldt's surprise registered on his shadowed face as confusion.
'Damn right. Figured a slouch like you could use a little help.' LaMoia added, 'I'm working all sorts of shit you don't wanna know about.'
That much was probably true. LaMoia's investigative approach was anything but conventional. 'You have to come back on the job,' Boldt informed him. Not only were LaMoia and his wealth of contacts invaluable, but Shoswitz's news threatened the man's future with Homicide.
'Don't look a gift horse-'
'I'm serious, John. The chief-'
LaMoia interrupted. 'Schock and Phillipp had Ron Chapman under surveillance. I'd lay odds on it.'
'Chapman?' Boldt questioned, his thoughts jarred. Chapman swinging a baseball bat on a fellow officer? Not likely. 'Krishevski is Property. Chapman is Property. But I don't see Ron Chapman doing Big Mac's dirty work. Chapman hasn't even joined the Flu! That doesn't make sense.'
'I'm just telling you what I saw. Those boys were eyeing him.'
'That's a crowded bar, John.'
'Chapman doesn't hang at the Bull. I do, Sarge. As much as I hang at the Joke when you're on the ivories. And Chapman's out of place. He stuck out tonight because everyone knows he's still on the job. You could say he got a lukewarm reception-same as you.'
'Go on.' Boldt continued to scan their surroundings, ensuring they weren't being watched. It was no longer safe for one cop to talk to another. He hated the way things were.
'Chapman came in looking for someone. No doubt about it. Completely obvious. Schock and Phillipp weren't far behind-a staggered entrance, one through the front, one through the back. Textbook shit. Phillipp's a couple minutes behind his partner. About as long as it takes to double park in an alley down the street, if you hear what I'm saying. I'm putting 'em on Chapman, on account that's the way I read it. Chapman wanders around craning his head this way and that, gives it up and takes off. 'Bout as subtle as a whore at a tea party. Maybe he signaled someone. Maybe not. I'm thinking Schock hangs to maintain appearances. Phillipp's out the back door a couple beats behind the mark… I'm telling you, Sarge. Couple minutes later, Schock follows. Maybe he gets a call. I didn't see that. Can't say. But they don't make it far, right? And if that's a mugging, then your bruises came from falling down stairs.'
LaMoia apparently had heard Boldt's in-house explanation for his pains and aches. Not much sneaked past him.
'The chief is sending health services door to door.' Boldt explained what Shoswitz had passed along to him.
'It's a bluff, Sarge. Shoswitz was supposed to leak it.'
'If I'm the chief, uniforms are promoted to detective. Academy recruits who're past the three-week mark head straight to patrol. I keep the National Guard out of my house.'
LaMoia looked a little more convinced.
'You and your squad need to be back on the floor tomorrow before this hits the fan.'
'It's the perfect bluff, I'm telling you. A couple lieus leak this and they get thirty, forty percent of us back with nothing more than a phone call.'
'Phil Shoswitz was guild secretary. Whose side do you think he's on?' Boldt said, 'Don't double guess this, John. The information is good. We need to work the call tree, and we need to do it tonight. Phil thinks we should avoid our home lines.'
'Oh, this is precious.' LaMoia snorted and shook his head and looked Boldt over, trying to read him. He asked tentatively, 'You buy this?'
Boldt knew to leave it alone. It was the only way to convince his obstinate sergeant. As much as he wanted to argue his case, he returned to LaMoia's reason for the meeting. 'Schock and Phillipp are Vice. Why are they sitting on a guy like Chapman?'
'Are they?' LaMoia asked. 'Vice? You're Homicide, Sarge, but are you at the moment?'
'One cop watching another? What, they got handed an I.I.?' Internal Investigations had been wiped out by the Flu same as Burglary. It wasn't out of the question, no matter how unlikely. I.I. was a closed unit-a dreaded assignment. But it only made sense that these investigations would have to continue in spite of the Flu. He considered this possibility. 'We need to know who Chapman was looking for.'
Saddled by obvious reservation, LaMoia informed Boldt, 'Maria got hooked up to something first day of the Flu, Sarge. She wouldn't talk about it-and we talked about everything. I got pissed off, partly 'cause she wouldn't
