'Is the Department going to look bad in this, Peter?'
'No, sir. I don't see how. The other seven arrests went very smoothly. They're all down at 8^th and Race already. As soon as I get off the phone, I'm going down there.'
'Have you notified Matt's family?'
'No, sir. I thought I should call you before I did that.'
'Well, at least your brain wasn't entirely disengaged,' Coughlin said. And then, immediately, 'Sorry, Peter. I shouldn't have said that.'
'Forget it, Chief. I don't think I have to tell you how bad I feel about this. And I know how you feel about Matt.'
'I've been on the job twenty-seven years and I've never been hurt,' Coughlin said. 'Matt's father gets killed. His Uncle Dutch gets killed, and now he damned near does.'
'I thought about that too, Chief.'
'I'll take care of notifying his family,' Coughlin said. 'You make sure nobody else gets carried away with procedure and tries to.'
'I've already done that, Chief.'
'You're sure he's going to be all right?'
'Yes, sir.'
'Keep yourself available, Peter. You say you're going to be at Homicide?'
'Yes, sir. Mr. Stillwell asked me to be there.'
'Farnsworth Stillwell?'
'Yes, sir.'
'When you can break loose, it might be a good idea to go back to the hospital; to have a word with Matt's family.'
'Yes, sir, I'd planned to do that.'
'Well, don't blame yourself for this, Peter. These things happen.'
'Yes, sir.'
Coughlin, without another word, hung up. He swung his feet out of bed, pulled open the drawer of a bedside table, and took out a telephone book. He dialed a number.
'Police Department.'
'Let me speak to the senior officer on duty.'
'Maybe I can help you.'
'This is Chief Inspector Dennis V. Coughlin. Get the senior police officer present on the telephone!'
'This is Lieutenant Swann. Can I help you?'
'This is Chief Inspector Dennis V. Coughlin-'
'Oh, sure. How are you, Chief?'
'I need a favor.'
'Name it.'
'You know where the Payne house is on Providence Road in Wallingford?'
'Sure.'
'Their son is a police officer. He has just been shot in the line of duty. He is in Frankford Hospital. I am about to notify them. I would consider it a personal favor if you would provide an escort for them from their home to the Philadelphia city line. I'll have a car meet you there.'
'Chief, when the Paynes come out of their driveway, a car will be sitting there.'
'Thank you.'
'He hurt bad?'
'We don't think so.'
'Thank God.'
'Thank God,' Denny Coughlin repeated, and, unable to trust his voice any further, hung up.
He walked into the kitchen, poured an inch and a half of John Jameson's Irish whiskey in a plastic cup, drank it down, and then reached for the telephone on the wall. He dialed a number from memory. It took a long time to answer.
Please, God, don't let Patty answer.
'Hello?'
'Brewster, this is Denny Coughlin.'
'Is something wrong, Denny?' Brewster Cortland Payne, suddenly wide awake, asked.
'What is it?' a familiar female voice came faintly over the telephone.
'Matt's got himself shot,' Denny Coughlin said very quickly. 'Not seriously. He's in Frankford Hospital. By the time you get dressed, there will be a police car waiting in your driveway to escort you to the hospital. I'll meet you there.'
'All right.'
'My God, I'm sorry, Brewster.'
'Yes, I know. We'll see you there, Denny.'
The phone went dead.
Coughlin broke the connection with his finger and then dialed another number from memory.
'Highway.'
'This is Chief Coughlin.'
'Yes, sir.'
'I have cleared this with Inspector Wohl. A Media police car is about to escort a car to the city line. I want a Highway car to meet it and take it the rest of the way to Frankford Hospital. Got that?'
'Yes, sir.'
'Thank you,' Coughlin said, and hung up. Then he went into his bedroom and started to get dressed. As he was tying his shoes, he suddenly looked up, at the crucifix hanging over his bed.
'It could be worse. Thank you,' he said.
FOURTEEN
Shortly after Mr. Michael J. O'Hara appeared in the city room of the PhiladelphiaBulletin at a little after six A.M., theBulletin's city and managing editors decided that since they had an exclusive (the term 'scoop' is considered declasse' by modern journalists) in Mr. O' Hara's coverage of the shooting during the arrest of the Islamic Liberation Army, together with some really great pictures, it clearly behooved them to run with it.
The front pages of Sections A and B were redone. On Page 1A, a photograph of the President of the United States shaking hands with some foreign dignitary in flowing robes was replaced with a photograph of the cop bleeding all over himself as he held his gun on the guy who had shot him. Under it was the caption:
Special Operations Officer Matthew M. Payne, blood streaming from his wounds, holds his pistol on Charles D. Stevens, whom he had just bested in an early morning gun battle in Frankford. Stevens was one of eight men, alleged to be participants in the murder-robbery of Goldblatt's furniture store, whom police rounded up at dawn. Payne collapsed moments after this photo was taken. Full details on Page IB. [Bulletin Photograph by Michael J. O'Hara.]
Most of Page IB was redone. When finished it had three photographs lining the top, and a headline reading,EXCLUSIVEBULLETIN COVERAGE OF
EARLY MORNING SHOOTOUT.
Below the photographs-which showed Matt Payne being held up by the ACT cop; Charles D. Stevens being rolled into Frankford Hospital on a gurney; and Matt Payne, his face caked with blood, on his gurney in the corridor
