"Okay," Lowenstein said. "I see your reasoning. So what are you going to do?"

"Obey the order he gave me," Wohl said. "Have a Highway car meet Washington and the unmarked car at Goldblatt's and go with them when they bring Mr. Monahan here to the Roundhouse. Unless I heard the commissioner incorrectly, he only said he wanted 'Highwayin on protecting Mr. Monahan.'"

"You're devious, Peter. Maybe youwill get to be commissioner one day."

"I'm doing the job the best way I can see to do it," Wohl said.

"I think you're doing it right," Coughlin said.

"We won that encounter in there, Peter," Lowenstein said. "I think Czernick expected both of us to be drawn and quartered. I think Czernick is disappointed. So watch out for him."

"Yeah," Wohl said.

"I'd appreciate being kept up-to-date on what's happening," Coughlin said.

"I'll have Washington call you after the lineup. Lineups."

"Lineups. Lineups, for Christ's sake," Lowenstein said, chuckling. He touched Wohl's arm, nodded at Coughlin, and walked out of the room.

"I appreciate your concern for Matt, Peter," Coughlin said.

"Don't be silly."

"Well, I do," Coughlin said, and then he left.

Wohl started to follow him, but as he passed through the commissioner's office, the commissioner's secretary asked him how Matt was doing, and he stopped to give her a report.

In the elevator on the way to the lobby, he remembered that he had promised Matt to have a word with his father. He stopped at the counter, asked for a phone book, and called Mawson, Payne, Stockton, McAdoo amp; Lester.

Brewster C. Payne gave him the impression he had expected him to call. He asked where Wohl was, and then suggested they have a drink in the Union League Club.

"Thank you, I can use one," Peter said.

"I think we can both use several," Payne said. "I'll see you there in a few minutes."

Wohl started to push the telephone back to the corporal on duty, and then changed his mind and dialed Dave Pekach's number and explained why a Highway car was going to have to be at Goldblatt's.

Lari Matsi came into Matt Payne's, carrying a small tray with a tiny paper cup on it.

"How's it going?" she asked.

"I'm watchingThe Dating Game on the boob tube. That tell you anything?"

"Maybe you have more culture than I've been giving you credit for," she said. "Anyway, take this and in five minutes you won't care what's on TV."

"I don't need that, thank you."

"It's not a suggestion. It's on orders."

"I still don't want it," he said.

She was standing by the side of the bed. She looked down at it, and grew serious.

"I don't think you're supposed to have that in here."

He followed her eyes, and saw that she was looking at the revolver Wohl had given him, its butt peeking out from a fold in the thin cotton blanket.

He took the revolver and put it inside the box of Kleenex on the bedside table.

"Okay?" he asked.

"No. Not okay. You want to tell me what's going on here?"

"Like what? I'm a cop. Cops have guns."

"They moved you in here, and your name is not Matthews, which is the name on the door."

"I don't suppose you'd believe that I'm really a rock-and-roll star trying to avoid my fans?"

"Do they really think somebody's going to try to-do something to you?"

"No. But better safe than sorry."

"I suppose this is supposed to be exciting," she said. "But what I really feel is that I don't like it at all."

"I'm sorry you saw the gun," he said. "Can we drop it there?"

"You don't want the Demerol because it will make you drowsy, right?"

He met her eyes, but didn't reply.

"This was going to be your last one, anyway," Lari said. "I could get you some aspirin, if you want."

"Please."

"Are you in pain?"

"No."

"If anybody asks, you took it, okay?" she asked. "It would be easier that way."

She went to the bathroom, and in a moment, with a mighty roar, the toilet flushed.

"Thank you," he said when she came out.

"I'll get the aspirin," she said, and went out.

She came back in a minute with a small tin of Bayer aspirin.

"These are mine," she said. "You didn't get them from me. Okay?"

"Thank you."

"There's a security guard at the nurse's station, I guess you know. He's giving everybody who gets off the elevator the once-over. "

"No, I didn't."

"In the morning, they're going to send you a physical therapist, to show you how to use crutches," she said. "When she tells you the more you use your leg, the more quickly it will feel better, trust her."

"Okay."

"I'll see you around, maybe, sometime."

"Not in the morning?"

"No. I won't be coming back here. I'm only filling in."

"I'd really like to see you around, no maybe, sometime. Could I call you?"

"There's a rule against that."

"You don't know what I have in mind, so how can there be a rule against that?"

"I mean, giving your phone number to a patient."

"I'm not just any old patient. I'm Margaret's Prince Charming's buddy. And, anyway, don't you ever do something you're not supposed to?"

"Not very often," she said, "and something tells me this is one of the times I should follow the rules."

She walked out of the room.

Matt watched the door close slowly after her.

"Damn!" he said aloud.

The door swung open again.

"My father is the only Henry Matsi in the phone book," Lari announced, "but I should tell you I'm hardly ever home."

Then she was gone again.

"Henry Matsi, Henry Matsi, Henry Matsi, Henry Matsi," Matt said aloud, to engrave it in his memory.

A minute or so later the door opened again, but it was not Lari. A chubby, determinedly cheerful woman bearing a tray announced, "Here's our supper."

"What are we having?"

"Anice piece of chicken," she said. "Primarily."

She took the gray cover off a plate with a flourish.

"And steamed veggies."

"Wow!" Matt said enthusiastically, "And what do you suppose that gray stuff in the cup is?"

"Custard."

"I was afraid of that."

Five minutes later, as he was trying to scrape the custard off his teeth and the roof of his mouth with his tongue, the door opened again.

A familiar face, to which Matt could not instantly attach a name, appeared.

"Feel up to a couple of visitors?"

"Sure, come on in."

Walter Davis, special agent in charge, Philadelphia Office, FBI, came into the room, trailed by A-SAC (Criminal Affairs) Frank Young.

"We won't stay long, but we wanted to come by and see if there was anything we could do for you," Davis said as Matt finally realized who they were.

You could tell me you just arrested the guy who wants to get me for shooting Charles D. Stevens. That would be nice.

What the hell are they doing here? What do they want?

Mr. Albert J. Monahan was talking with Mr. Phil Katz when Sergeant Jason Washington came through the door of Goldblatt amp; Sons Credit Furniture amp; Appliances, Inc., on South Street. Mr. Monahan smiled and seemed pleased to see Sergeant Washington. Mr. Katz did not.

"Good evening," Washington said.

"How are you, Detective Washington?" Mr. Monahan replied, pumping his hand.

Mr. Katz nodded.

"I guess you heard-" Washington began.

"We heard," Katz said.

"-we have the people who were here locked up," Washington continued. "And I hope Detective Pelosi called to tell you I was coming by?"

"Yes, he did," Monahan said.

"What I thought you meant," Katz said, "was, had we heard about what the Islamic Liberation Army had to say about people 'bearing false witness.'"