police and the mayor to the President of the United States.”
“Nice weapon,” I said, with a nod toward the Uzi.
“We liberated it. My bunch is pretty good at dog-robbing,” Dutch said, then added, almost as an
afterthought, “among other things.”
Inside, the front of the place had been divided into half a dozen office cubicles. Behind them, in the
centre of the building, was a fairly sophisticated computer system and a telephone switchboard.
Behind that was what appeared to be a large meeting room, walled with chalk-and corkboards. A
six—foot television screen was mounted in the wall at the front of the room and twenty or so oldfashioned movable chairs were scattered about, the kind with writing platforms attached, like they had
in school when I was a kid—arid still do, for all I know.
The big room in back was affectionately known as the Kindergarten.
Two rooms filled the back end of the old supermarket. One was a holding cell that looked big enough
to accommodate the entire D-Day invasion force, and the other was behind a door marked simply
VIDEO OPERATIONS. I counted three uniformed cops on duty, including the man on the door and a
black woman who was operating the switchboard.
A pretty classy setup: Morehead?s war room.
“Are the uniform people part of your gang or on loan—out?
“Probation. If they can hack the everyday stuff, they maybe can work their way into the gang. Also
find out pretty quick whether they can keep their mouths shut”
I decided to take one last shot at my immediate problem. “Before the rest of your guys show up,” I
said, “can we settle this Fed problem?”
“It?s settled. We don?t have a problem,” he said, trying to brush it off.
“Right,” I said with more than a little acid. I decided to let him blow off a little steam.
“Okay,” he snapped, “let?s put it this way. At first we tried workin? with the IRS, but cooperating with
the Leper Colony is no different than loanin? your watch to Jesse James. They?re either young turks
just out of college, in it so they can learn how to beat the system and get rich, or they?re misfits none
of the other agencies?ll touch. Either way, it?s every man For himself. Like workin? in a patch of
skunk cabbage.”
“No argument,” I said.
“A bunch of pfutzlukers!” he bellowed.
“Absolutely,” I agreed. “Whatever that means.”
“If I broke half the laws they do, I?d be doing time.”
“Life plus twenty, at least.” Now it his turn and I let him rage on.
He leaned over me, jabbing his chest with his thumb. “1 wouldn?t let one of „em in here, not if he
