While the press could be required to wait in the main lobby, the others immediately made it plain they would wait right where they were, overflowing the small waiting room on the surgical floor, until Officer Payne was out of surgery and his condition known.

And when that had come to pass-the removal of a bullet from the calf musculature was a fairly simple procedure, routinely handled by surgical residents half a dozen times on any given weekend-and Young Payne was taken to the Recovery Room, the Hospital Security Staff was unable to deter the mayor's driver from carrying out his assigned mission-"Go down and bring the press up here. They'll want a picture of me with Payne when he wakes up."

The senior staff physician was able to delay the picture taking until the staff had put Young Payne in a private room, and after the mayor had taken the necessary steps to keep the public aware that their mayor, in his never-ceasing efforts to rid the streets of Philadelphia of crime, was never far from the action, he left, and so did perhaps half of the people who had arrived at about the time he had.

"You'll need pajamas," Patricia Payne said to her son. "And your toilet things-"

"I won't be in here long," Matt said. "You don't know that," Patricia Payne said, and looked at her daughter, Amelia.

"I don't know how long they're going to keep him, Mother," she replied. "But I'll find out. I'll call you at home and let you know. And I'll go by his apartment and get him what he needs. I have to come back out here anyway. You and Dad go on home."

"I suppose he should rest," Patricia Payne gave in. She leaned over her son and kissed him. "Do what they tell you to do, for once."

"Yes, ma'am," Matt said.

"If you need anything, Matt," Brewster Payne said, "I'm as close as that phone."

"Thank you, Dad. I don't think I'll need anything."

"I'll call as soon as I have a chance to go home, change, and get to the office."

"Go on, you two, get out of here," Amelia Payne said. They left.

"Thank you," Matt said when the door had closed.

"Don't look so pleased with yourself, you sonofabitch," Amy Payne snapped. "I did that for them, not you."

"Wow!"

"Youbastard! Are you trying to drive Mother crazy, or what?" She dipped into an extra large purse, came out with a copy of theBulletin and threw it at him. "I hope she doesn't see that!"

The front page showed Matt, bloody-faced, holding his gun on Charles D. Stevens.

"Hey, I didn't do this on purpose. That bastard was shooting at me."

"That bastard died thirty minutes ago. You can carve another notch on your gun, Jesse James."

"He died?" Matt asked, wanting confirmation.

"I didn't think Mother needed to know that."

She looked at him. Their eyes met.

"How do you feel about that?" she asked.

"I'm not about to wallow in remorse, if that's what you're hoping. He was trying to kill me."

"And almost did. Do you have any idea how lucky you are? Have you ever seen what a.45-caliber bullet does to tissue?"

"I just found out."

"No, you didn't. The bullet that hit you had lost most of its energy bouncing off a wall."

"Amy, I wasn't trying to be hero. This just happened. I can't understand why you're sore at me."

"Because, youass, of what you're doing to Mother. When are you going to come to your senses, for her sake, if nothing else?"

Matt was not given time to form a reply. The door opened, and a nurse put her head in.

"Are you a family member?"

"I'm Dr. Payne," Amy replied, not at all pleasantly. "What do you want?"

"Mr. Payne's grandmother and aunt are here, Doctor. They'd like to see him."

"Let them come in, I'm leaving."

The nurse pushed the door open. A stout, somewhat florid-faced woman in her sixties, her gray hair done up in a bun, followed by a blond woman in her late thirties came into he room.

"Hello, Mother Moffitt," Amy Payne said. "Jeannie."

"Hello, Amy," the younger woman replied.

The older woman flashed Amy a cold look, nodded, and said, "Miss Payne."

"It'sDr. Payne, Mrs. Moffitt," Amy said, and walked out of the room.

"Hello, Grandma," Matt said.

"Your grandfather, your father, and your Uncle Richard would be proud of you, darling," Gertrude Moffitt said emotionally, walking to the bed and grasping his hand.

"Hello, Aunt Jeannie," Matt said.

"I'm just sorry you didn't kill the man who did this to you," Mother Moffitt said.

"I apparently did," Matt said. "They told me he died half an hour ago."

"Then I hope he burns in hell."

"Mother Moffitt!" Jeannie Moffitt protested. "For God's sake."

"I have lost two sons to the scum of this city. I have no compassion in my heart for them, and neither should you."

"I'm just grateful Matt's not more seriously injured," Jeannie said.

"Chief Coughlin called and told me," Mother Moffitt said. "Your mother apparently couldn't be bothered."

"She was upset, for God's sake!" Jeannie Moffitt protested. "You, of all people, should understand that."

"No matter what trials and pain God has sent me, I take pride in always having done my duty."

Jeannie Moffitt shook her head, and she and Matt exchanged a smile.

"So, how are you, Matty?" she asked.

"Aside from that, Mrs. Lincoln, how was the play?"

Jeannie Moffitt laughed.

"What was that? I don't understand that," Mother Moffitt said.

"A little joke, Grandma," Matt said.

The nurse stuck her head through the door again.

"I'm afraid you'll have to leave now," she said.

"I just got here," Mother Moffitt said indignantly.

"Doctor's orders," the nurse said, and walked to the side of Matt's bed. "Mr. Payne needs rest."

"Officer Payne,thank you," Mother Moffitt said.

"Do you need anything, Matty?" Jeannie asked.

"Not a thing, thank you."

"I'll come back, of course, if Jeannie can find the time to bring me," Mother Moffitt said.

"Of course, I will. You know that."

"It's a terrible thing when the only time I get to see him is in a hospital bed with a bullet in him," Mother Moffitt said.

She bent and kissed his cheek and marched out of the room. The nurse went to the door and turned and smiled.

"Dr. Payne said to tell you, you owe her one," she said.

"Thank both of you," Matt said.

"There's some other people out here to see you. You feel up to it?"

"Who?"

"A Highway Patrolman, some kind of a big-shot cop named Coughlin, and a man from the district attorney's office. And his wife."

"The district attorney?"

"I think he saidassistant. And his wife. I can run them off."

"No. I'm all right. Isn't this thing supposed to hurt?"

"It will. When it starts to hurt, ring for a nurse."

"I'm also hungry. Can I get something to eat?"

"I can probably arrange for something," she said. "So you want to see them?"

"Please."

Chief Inspector Dennis V. Coughlin, Officer Charles McFadden, and Assistant District Attorney and Mrs. Farnsworth Stillwell filed into the room.

"Hey, Charley," Matt said. "Uncle Denny."

"I'm Farnsworth Stillwell, Officer Payne," the assistant district attorney said, walking up to the bed with his hand extended, "and this is Mrs. Stillwell."

"How do you do?" Matt said politely. He had previously had the pleasure of making Mrs. Stillwell's acquaintance. He not only knew her Christian name, but a number of other intimate details about her.

Her name was Helene, and the last time he had seen her, she was putting her clothing back on in his apartment, whence they had gone from the Delaware Valley Cancer Society's cocktail party.

"Hello," Helene said. "I'm a little vague about the protocol here. Is it permitted to say I'm so sorry you've been shot?"

"This is my first time too," Matt said. "I'm a little fuzzy about the protocol myself."