to drop by.'
'Can we offer you coffee?'
'Love a cup. It's bitter cold out there. This is Special Agent Matthews.'
Matthews walked up to Matt, offered his hand, and said, 'Jack Matthews. I've wanted to meet you.'
'How are you?' Matt said. 'The large one is Officer Charley McFadden. The other's Officer Hartzog.'
They shook hands. Hartzog put the shotgun back and sat down where he had been sitting watching television.
'Charley, will you get the FBI some coffee?'
'Yeah, sure.'
'You've wanted to meet him, too, Jack,' Young said. 'Officer McFadden is the man who located, and ran to earth, the individual who shot Captain Moffitt.'
'Yes, I have,' Matthews said. 'I'm one of your fans, McFadden. That was good work.'
Charley looked uncomfortable.
'You want something in your coffee, or black?' he responded.
'Black for me, please.'
'A little sugar for me, if you have it, please,' Young said.
'You want some more, Matt? Hartzog?'
'Please,' Matt said.
'Not now, thanks,' Hartzog said.
'How do you feel, Matt?' Young asked.
'I feel all right.'
'No pain in the leg?'
'Only when I forget and step on it.'
'It'll take a while,' Young said. 'It could have been a lot worse.. 45, wasn't it?'
'Apparently a ricochet,' Matt said.
Charley passed out the coffee.
'They must be taking this ILA threat pretty seriously,' Young said. ' Judging by the fact that you have two men on you.'
'I'm off duty,' McFadden said. 'Hartzog came on at eight. Just one.'
'Matt, is there somewhere we could have a word?' Young asked.
What the hell is this all about?
'We can go in my bedroom.'
'Please,' Young said, smiling. 'You need any help?'
'No. I just move a little slowly.'
He pushed himself out of the chair and, using a cane, made his way to his bedroom.
Young followed and closed the door after them.
'Nice apartment.'
'It gets a little crowded with more than me in it.'
Young smiled dutifully, then said, seriously, 'Matt, I won't ask you if I can trust your discretion, but you didn't get this from me, all right?'
'All right.'
'I heard yesterday that a charge has been brought that you have violated the civil rights of Charles David Stevens, and that Justice will ask us to conduct an investigation.'
'What?'Matt asked, incredulously.
'It's becoming a fairly standard tactic. All it does as far as we're concerned-in cases like yours-is waste manpower. From their standpoint, the only thing I can imagine is that they hope the very charge will sow a seed of doubt in some potential juror's mind. If the FBI is investigating, the police, the police officer, must have done something wrong.'
'Who brought the charges?' Matt asked, angrily.
'One of the civil rights groups, I don't remember which one. But it's more than safe to say that Armando C. Giacomo is behind it.'
'What, exactly, am I being charged with?'
'Violating the civil rights of Stevens by taking his life unlawfully, or excessive force, something like that.'
'That sonofabitch was trying to kill me when I shot him!'
'Don't get all excited. The investigation will bring all that out. There's also a story that they're going to take you before the Grand Jury. Is that right?'
Why don't I want to tell him?
'I've heard they are.'
'Well, that may-more than likelywill- take the wind out of their sails. I can't imagine a Grand Jury returning a true bill under the circumstances. As I say, what I really think they're after is sowing that seed of doubt. Where there's smoke, there must be fire, so to speak.'
'I will be Goddamned!'
'As well as I can, there's an ethical question here, of course, I will keep you advised. More specifically, when I hear something I think you ought to know, I'll have Matthews pass the word to you. He's one of the good guys.'
'Jesus!' Matt said. 'That's absolute bullshit! He tries to kill me. I defend myself, andI'm accused of violatinghis civil rights.'
'It's a crazy world. But don't worry too much about it. Remember, you didn't do anything wrong.'
'Yeah.'
'Do you play chess?'
What the hell has that got to do with anything?
'Yes, I play chess.'
'So does Matthews. That would give him an excuse to come here.'
Why is he doing this?
'I very much appreciate your telling me this, Mr. Young.'
'Frank, please. What the hell, we have different badges, but we're both cops, right?'
I really would like to believe that. I wonder why I don't?
Young looked at his watch.
'Gotta get moving,' he said, and offered Matt his hand.
When Matt followed him back into the living room, Matthews was holding the Queen of a set of green jade chess pieces Matt had been given for his fifteenth birthday.
'Interesting set,' Matthews said. 'Do you play much?'
'Some.'
'We'll have to have a game sometime.'
'Anytime. I'll be here.'
'I might surprise you, and just come knocking some night.'
'I wish you would.'
TWENTY-THREE
'How are you, Inspector?' Lieutenant Warren Lomax greeted Peter Wohl cheerfully, offering his hand. 'What can we do for you?'
Lomax was a tall, quite skinny man in his early forties. He had been seriously injured years before in a high- speed chase accident as a Highway Patrol sergeant, and pensioned off.
After two years of retirement, he had (it was generally acknowledged with the help of then Commissioner Carlucci) managed to get back on the job on limited duty. He'd gone to work in the Forensics Laboratory as sort of the chief clerk. There, he had become fascinated with what he saw and what the lab did, actually gone back to
