right, he had been lucky. He also told them he was going off the air, that he didn't want to have the ignition and the radios on, he might have got a gas line.
They told him to take it easy, they were going to send a State Trooper who was only ten, fifteen miles away, and that the wrecker should be there in thirty, thirty-five minutes.
He turned the ignition off and got out of the car again. He took another look at the shredded tire, and then walked twenty yards away and sat down against another pine tree.
He then offered a little prayer of thanks for not getting hurt or killed, and settled down to wait for the Trooper and the wrecker.
SEVENTEEN
Detective Matthew M. Payne parked his Bug in the Special Operations parking lot at five minutes to eight Monday morning. At precisely eight, he pushed open a door-on the frosted glass door of which had been etched, before he was born, 'Principal's Office.'
There was a very natty sergeant, face unfamiliar, sitting inside the door, a stocky man who looked as if he was holding the war against middle-aged fat to a draw.
'May I help you, sir?' the sergeant asked politely.
'Sergeant, I'm Detective Payne, I'm reporting in.'
'Oh, yes,' the sergeant said, and stood up and offered his hand. ' I'm Sergeant Rawlins, Dick Rawlins, the administrative sergeant.'
'How do you do?'
'I just had a quick look at your records,' Rawlins said. 'Haven't had the time for more than a quick look. But I did pick up that you were third on the detective's exam, and that speaks well of you.'
'Thank you.'
'Have a seat, Payne,' Rawlins said. 'The captain will see you when he's free.'
He gestured toward the door, on which could still be faintly seen faded gilt lettering,Principal. Private.
'The captain' was obviously Mike Sabara, whose small office opened off Peter Wohl's office. Captain Dave Pekach's office was down the corridor.
'I wonder what he wants?' Matt thought aloud.
Rawlins's smile faded.
'I'm sure the captain will tell you what he wants, Detective,' he said.
You have just had your knuckles rapped, Detective Payne, and you will not get a gold star for behavior to take home to Mommy.
I wonder what Sabara wants with me? He was there when Wohl told me I would be working with Jack Malone. And Malone left a message on the machine that he wanted to see me at eight.
Five minutes later, the door opened and Mike Sabara stuck his head out. Then, surprised, he saw Matt.
'Hi, Matt. You waiting to see me?'
'Sir, Sergeant Rawlins told me you wanted to see me.'
'Come on in,' Sabara said, and then added, to Rawlins, 'Sergeant, if you see the inspector before I do, would you have him call Chief Coughlin?'
'Yes, sir.'
Sabara closed the door to his office behind him.
'Sergeant Rawlins comes to us highly recommended from Criminal Records,' he said dryly. 'That 'see the captain business' is so either the inspector or I can eyeball newcomers. It didn't apply to you, obviously, and he should have known that. I'm already getting the feeling that he's every bit as bright as that Sergeant Henkels we got stuck with. Does that tell you enough, or should I draw a diagram?'
'I think I get the point, sir.'
'Well, our time is not entirely wasted. This gives me the chance to tell you that the inspector was impressed with Sergeant O'Dowd, so for the time being, he'll be working for Jack Malone too, full-time, on the lunatic. And so will Washington, although, of course, with the Black Buddha, the way we say that is 'will be workingwith.''
'Yes, sir,' Matt said, chuckling.
'I think catching this lunatic with the bomb is the first thing that's really interested Jason since Wohl transferred him here. He and Malone are going, maybe have gone, to Intelligence. I don't know what Malone has planned for you, but I think you'd better go down there and see.'
'Yes, sir.'
'Matt, that was a good job on the lunatic profile.'
'That was my sister, not me,' Matt said, 'but thank you anyway.'
'I'm glad you're back. You-or at least your car-lends the place some class.'
'I'm driving my Volkswagen, Captain.'
'Get out of here,' Sabara said.
Matt went back in the outer office as Staff Inspector Wohl came into it from the corridor.
Sergeant Rawlins stood up.
'Good morning, Inspector,' he said. 'Sir, Captain Sabara said that you are to call Chief Coughlin at your earliest opportunity. And, sir, this is Detective Payne.'
'Is it?' Wohl asked, a wicked gleam in his eye.
'Good morning, sir,' Matt said.
'Good morning, Detective Payne,' Wohl said, and then turned to Rawlins. 'Is Captain Sabara in there?'
'Yes, sir. He just interviewed Detective Payne.'
'I'm sorry I missed that,' Wohl said, and went into his office.
'Did the captain happen to tell you where you will be working, Detective?' Rawlins asked.
'For Lieutenant Malone,' Matt said.
'That would be in Plans and Training,' Rawlins replied, after consulting an organizational chart. 'I'll make a note of that.'
'What can I do for you?' Sergeant Maxwell Henkels demanded, making it more of a challenge than a question, as Detective Matthew M. Payne walked through a door on the second floor of the building, above which hung a sign,Plans and Training Section.
Henkels was just this side of fat, a flabby man who could have been anywhere from forty to fifty, florid-faced, with what Matt thought of as booze tracks on his nose.
'I'm looking for Lieutenant Malone, Sergeant.'
'What for, and who are you?'
Why, I'm the visiting inspector for the Courtesy in Police Work Program, Sergeant. And you have just won the booby prize.
'My name is Payne, Sergeant. Detective Payne.'
'The lieutenant and Sergeant Washington were waiting for you,' Henkels said. 'When you didn't show up, they went to Intelligence. He wants you to meet him there.'
'I just transferred in this morning…'
'Yeah, I heard.'
'…and the administrative sergeant said I had to report to Captain Sabara before I came here.'
'You should have called me,' Sergeant Henkels said. 'You're to let me know where you are all the time, understand?'
Oh, shit!
Matt nodded.
'Did Lieutenant Malone say anything about a car for me?'
'No.'
