"From what I have been able to piece together, he wasn't even supposed to be there, but he showed up when they were getting ready to go, and Wohl sent him with Mickey O'Hara. They were in an alley behind the bastard's house, waiting for the detectives and the cops to go in, when the sonofabitch showed up in the alley, shooting. He was a lousy shot, fortunately-"

"He got Matt!"

"With a ricochet, it hit a brick wall first. If it had hit Matt first, he'd be-a lot worse off."

"He was covered with blood in the newspaper."

"Minor wound, scratch, really, in the forehead. The head tends to bleed a lot."

"The radio said the man died," Martha said. "Poor Matt."

"'Poor Matt'?"

"It will bother him, having taken someone's life."

"The last one he shot didn't bother him that I could see."

"That you could see."

Jason's face wrinkled as he considered that.

"Touche," he said, finally.

"I got him a box of candy. I didn't know what else to get him."

"You could have given him the picture of the naked lady. I know he'd like that."

She looked at him a minute, smiled, and said, "Okay. I will."

"Really?"

"Why not?" she asked.

"You're not thinking of taking it to the hospital?"

"Are we going to the hospital? "

"Yeah. Well, I thought maybe if you took off early and were here when I came home, you might want to go up there with me."

"I was about to go without you," she said. "You didn't call all day."

"I was busy," he said, and then added, "I found Tony."

"Oh?"

"In a bar in Roxborough. Specifically, in the back of a bar in Roxborough."

"Oh, honey!"

"I was right on the edge of taking him to a hospital. God, he looked awful. But I managed to get him to go home. I put him to bed. I just hope he stays there."

"Does Inspector Wohl know?"

He shook his head no.

"Well, maybe with all this-"

"He won't find out? You underestimate Peter Wohl."

"What's going to happen?"

"Drunks don't really reform until they hit bottom. Tony's pretty close to the bottom. Maybe I should have left him there and let him face Wohl. Maybe that would straighten him out."

"You know you couldn't do that."

"No," he agreed.

"The picture's in the spare bedroom."

"You really want to take it to the hospital?"

"If it will make him feel better, why not?"

When Jason and Martha Washington got off the elevator carrying the oil painting of the naked voluptuous lady, Jason found that Officer Matthew M. Payne had, in addition to the two uniformed cops guarding his door, other visitors, none of whom he was, in the circumstances, pleased to see.

Chief Inspector Matt Lowenstein and Staff Inspector Peter Wohl were standing in the corridor outside Matt's room, in conversation with a tall, angular man wearing a tweed jacket, a trench coat, gray flannel slacks, loafers, and the reserved collar affected by members of the clergy.

Lowenstein had seen them; there was no option of getting back on the elevator.

"Chief," Jason said.

"I'm glad you're here. I was about to suggest to Inspector Wohl that we try to find you," Lowenstein said, then changed his tone of voice from business to social: "Hello, Martha. It's been a long time."

"How are you, Chief Lowenstein?" Martha asked, giving him her hand.

"Reverend Coyle, may I introduce some other friends of Matt Payne's? Detective and Mrs. Jason Washington."

"That'sSergeant Washington, Chief," Wohl corrected him. "How are you, Martha?"

"Christ," Lowenstein said. "That's right, I forgot. Well, let me then be among the last to congratulate you, Jason."

"I'm very pleased to meet you," the Reverend H. Wadsworth Coyle said, enthusiastically pumping their hands in turn.

"Reverend Coyle," Lowenstein said, "has been telling us that he was Matt's spiritual adviser at Episcopal Academy-"

"Yes, indeed," Coyle interrupted him. "And just as soon as I heard of this terrible, terrible accident, I "-so perhaps you had better explain what that picture is you're carrying," Lowenstein concluded.

Wohl looked amused.

"Inspector Wohl has one very much like this, Reverend." Martha Washington replied, "which Matt admires. He asked me to see if I could find him one as much like it as possible, and I have. I thought it might cheer him up."

Wohl no longer looked amused, but Lowenstein did.

"Very nice," the Reverend Coyle said, not very convincingly.

"They gave him something, for the pain, I suppose," Wohl said. "He's sleeping. We're waiting for him to wake up. But I think you could stick your head in, maybe he's just dozing."

"Martha," Lowenstein said, "your husband is not the silent gumshoe of legend. Why don't you stick your head in? That way, if Mart's asleep, he'll stay that way."

"Perhaps the both of us?" the Reverend Coyle said.

"Go on, Reverend," Lowenstein said. There was something in his eyes that kept Jason from challenging the "suggestion" not to go in.

As Mrs. Washington, trailed by Reverend Coyle, disappeared into Matt' s room, Lowenstein took a paper from his pocket and handed it to Washington.

ISLAMIC LIBERATION ARMY

There Is No God But God,

And Allah Is His Name

PRESS RELEASE:

Allah has taken our Beloved Brother Abu Ben Mohammed into his arms in Heaven. Blessed be the Name of Allah!

But the cold-blooded murder of our Beloved Brother Abu Ben Mohammed by the infidel lackeys of the infidel sons of Zion, who call themselves police, shall not go unpunished!

Death to the murderers of our Brother!

Death to those who bear false witness against the Brothers of the Islamic Liberation Army in their Holy War against the infidel sons of Zion, who for too long have victimized the African Brothers (Islamic and other) and other minorities of Philadelphia.

Death to the Zionist oppressors of our people and the murderers who call themselves police!

Freedom Now!

Abdullah el Sikkim

Chief of Staff

Islamic Liberation Army

Washington read it, and then looked at Lowenstein.

"Sent by messenger to Mickey O'Hara at theBulletin," Lowenstein said. "And to the other papers, and the TV and radio stations."

"The question, obviously, is, who sent this?" Washington said. "And the immediate next question is, is it for real, or are we dealing with kooks?"

"I think we have to work on the presumption that there's something to it," Wohl said.

"What's something?"

"The first question that occurred to me was who did we miss, maybe how many, when we picked up those people this morning?" Wohl went on.

"There were eight people in the store; eight people Mr. Monahan identified from photographs; the eight people we had warrants for."

"There was probably, almost certainly," Lowenstein said, "a ninth man. Who drove the van."

"Muhammedel Sikkim is a guy named Randolph George Dawes," Washington said. "Little guy." He held up his hand at shoulder level. "Who is thisAbdullah el Sikkim? His brother?"

"Dawes has two brothers," Lowenstein said. "One of them is nine years old. The other one's in Lewisburg."

"He could be the one guy we missed, the one driving the van," Wohl said. "Or he could be any one of any number of people we don't know about."

"Well, whoever he is, he's guilty of plagiarism," Washington said. "A lot of this," he dropped his eyes to the sheet of paper and read, "' infidel sons of Zion, who for too long have victimized the African Brothers (Islamic and other) and other minorities of Philadelphia,' and some more of it too, I think, is right out of the first press release."

"He also used the phrase 'death to' more than once," Lowenstein said.