frighten you, disgust you, amuse you? That’s really what I want-your
“All right,” Thomas Handry said.
As soon as he got home, Delaney called Barbara at the hospital. She said she had had a very good night’s sleep and was feeling much better. Monica Gilbert was there, they were having a nice visit, she liked Monica very much. The Captain said he was glad, and would come over to see her in the evening, no matter what.
“I send you a kiss,” Barbara said, and made a kissing sound on the phone.
“And I send you one,” Captain Edward X. Delaney said, and repeated the sound. What he had always considered silly sentimentality now didn’t seem silly to him at all, but meaningful and so touching he could hardly endure it.
He called Charles Lipsky. The doorman was low-voiced and cautious.
“Find anything?” he whispered.
For a moment, Delaney didn’t know what he was talking about, then realized Lipsky was referring to the previous afternoon’s search.
“No,” the Captain said. “Nothing. The girl friend been around?”
“Haven’t seen her.”
“Remember what I said; you get the license number and-”
“I remember,” Lipsky said hurriedly. “Twenty. Right?”
“Yes,” Delaney said. “One other thing, is anything wrong with Blank’s left arm? Is it hurt?”
“He was carrying it in a sling for a couple of days.”
“Was he?”
“Yeah. I asked him. He said he slipped on a little rug in his living room. His floors were just waxed. He landed on his elbow. And he hit his face on the edge of a glass table, so it was scratched up.”
“Well,” the Captain said, “they say most accidents happen in the home.”
“Yeah. But the scratches are gone and he ain’t wearing the sling no more. That worth anything?”
“Don’t get greedy,” Delaney said coldly.
“Greedy?” Lipsky said indignantly. “Who’s greedy? But one hand washes the other-right?”
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” the Captain said. “You still on days?”
“Yeah. Until Christmas. Jesus, you know you was up there over an hour, and I buzzed you, and you-”
The Captain hung up. A little of Charles Lipsky went a long, long way.
He wrote up reports of his meeting with Thomas Handry and his conversation with the doorman. The only thing he deliberately omitted was his final talk with Handry on the sidewalk outside the restaurant. That exchange would mean nothing to Broughton.
It was past 4:00 p.m. when he finished putting it all down on paper. The reports were added to the Daniel G. Blank file. He wondered if he’d ever see that plump folder again. Alinski and the Anti-Group had about two more hours. Delaney didn’t want to think of what would happen if he didn’t hear from them. He’d have to deliver Blank's file to Broughton, of course, but
He went into the living room, slipped off his shoes, lay down on the couch, intending only to relax, rest his eyes, think of happier times. But the weariness he hadn’t yet slept off, the two drinks and brandy at lunch-all caught up with him; he slept lightly and dreamed of the wife of a homicide victim he had interrogated years and years ago. “He was asking for it,” she said, and no matter what questions he put to her, that’s all she’d say: “He was asking for it, he was asking for it.”
When he awoke, the room was dark. He laced on his shoes, walked through to the kitchen before he put on a light. The wall clock showed almost 7:00 p.m. Well, it was time…Delaney opened the refrigerator door, looked for a cold can of beer to cleanse his palate and his dreams. He found it, was just peeling back the tab when the phone rang.
He walked back into the study, let the phone ring while he finished opening the beer and taking a deep swallow. Then: “Captain Edward X. Delaney here.”
There was no answer. He could hear loud conversation of several men, laughter, an occasional shout, the clink of bottles and glasses. It sounded like a drunken party.
“Delaney here,” he repeated.
“Edward?” It was Thorsen’s voice, slurred with drink, weariness, happiness.
“Yes. I’m here.”
“Edward, we did it. Broughton is out. We pooped him.”
“Congratulations,” Delaney said tonelessly.
“Edward, you’ve got to return to active duty. Take over Operation Lombard. Whatever you want-men, equipment, money. You name it, you’ve got it. Right?” Thorsen shouted; Delaney grimaced, held the phone away from his ear. He heard two or three voices shout, “Right!” in reply to Thorsen’s question.
“Edward? You still there?”
“I’m still here.”
“You understand? You back on active duty. Head of Operation Lombard. Whatever you need. What do you say?”
“Yes,” Captain X. Delaney said promptly.
“Yes? You said yes?”
“That’s what I said.”
“He said yes!” Thorsen screamed. Again Delaney held the phone away, hearing the loud gabble of many voices. This was fraternity house stuff, and it displeased him.
“My God, that’s great,” the Deputy Inspector said in what Delaney was sure Thorsen thought was a sober and solemn voice.
“But I want complete control,” the Captain said stonily. “Over the whole operation. No written reports. Verbal reports to you only. And-”
“Whatever you want, Edward.”
“And no press conferences, no press releases, no publicity from anyone but me.”
“Anything, Edward, anything. Just wrap it up fast. You understand? Show Broughton up for the stupid
“Canned?” the Captain asked. “Broughton?”
“’mounts to the same thing,” Thorsen giggled. “Filed for retirement. Stupid sonofabitch. Says he’s going to run for mayor next year.”
“Is he?” Delaney said, still speaking in a dull, toneless voice. “Ivar, are you certain you’ve got this straight? I’ll take it on, but only on the conditions that I have complete control, verbal reports only to you, pick my own men, handle all the publicity personally. Is that understood?”
“Captain Delaney,” a quiet voice said, “this is Deputy Mayor Herman Alinski. I apologize, but I have been listening in on an extension. There is a certain celebration going on here.”
“I can hear it.”
“But I assure you, your conditions will be met. You will have complete control. Whatever you need. And nothing in the press or TV on Operation Lombard will come from anyone but you. Satisfactory?”
“Yes.”
“Great!” Deputy Inspector Thorsen burbled. “The Telex will go out immediately. We’ll get out a press release right away-just so we can make the late editions-that Broughton has put in for retirement and you’re taking over Operation Lombard. Is that all right, Edward? Just a short, one-paragraph release. Okay?”
“Yes. All right.”
“Your personal orders have already been cut. The Commissioner will sign them tonight.”
“You must have been very sure of me,” Delaney said.
“I wasn’t,” Thorsen laughed, “and Johnson wasn’t. But Alinski was.”
“Oh?” Delaney said coldly. “Are you there, Alinski?”
“I am here, Captain,” the soft voice came back.
“You were sure of me? That I’d take this on?”
