Being a staff inspector is considered both prestigious and a good, interesting job. Many staff inspectors consider it the apex of their police careers.

Consequently, the promotion path from captain to inspector for most officers usually skips staff inspector. A lieutenant is promoted to captain, and spends the next five or six or even ten years commanding a District, or in a special unit, and/or working somewhere in administration until finally he ranks high enough on an inspector's examination-given every two years-to be promoted off it.

Peter Wohl, who everyone was willing to admit was one of the better staff inspectors, had been transferred out of Internal Affairs to command of the newly formed Special Operations Division. Officially, this was a decision of Police Commissioner Taddeus Czernick. Anyone who had been on the job more than six months suspected, correctly, that Wohl's transfer had been made at the " suggestion" of Mayor Jerry Carlucci, whose suggestions carried about as much weight with Czernick as a Papal pronouncement, ex cathedra.

Anyone who had been on the job six months also was aware that Wohl had friends in high places. Chief Inspector Augustus Wohl, retired, it was generally conceded, had been Mayor Carlucci's rabbi as the mayor had climbed through the ranks of the Department. And Peter Wohl was close to Chief Inspectors Lowenstein and Coughlin. It was far easier, and much more satisfying for personal egos, to conclude that Wohl's rapid rise in rank was due to his closeness to the mayor than to give the mayor the benefit of the doubt, and to believe Carlucci had given Wohl Special Operations, and had the expired Inspector's List reopened, because he really believed Wohl was the best man in the Department for the job, and that he deserved the promotion.

When the Wohls came out of the Commissioner's office door into one of the curving corridors of the Roundhouse, and started walking toward the elevators, Captain Richard Olsen of Internal Affairs walked up to them.

"Looking for me, Swede?" Wohl asked.

"Yes, sir."

"I guess you know my dad? What about my mother?"

"Chief," Olsen said. "Good to see you again. How do you do, Mrs. Wohl?"

"I'm doing very well, thank you, after what just happened in there," Olga Wohl said.

"And just what happened in there?"

"Say hello to the newest inspector," Chief Wohl said.

"No kidding?" Olsen said. "Jesus, Peter, congratulations. Well deserved."

He took Wohl's hand and shook it with enthusiasm.

Swede seems genuinely pleased. But my fans are still outnumbered by maybe ten to one.

"Thanks, Swede. It will not be necessary for you to kiss my ring."

"Peter!" Olga Wohl said. "Really!"

"What's up Swede? Youwere looking for me?"

"First of all, don't jump on Mike Sabara for telling me where I could find you. I practically had to get down on my knees and beg."

"That's not good enough," Wohl said. "As my first official act as an inspector, I'll have him shot at sunrise. Did your guys come up with something last night?"

"Yeah. Could you give me a minute?"

"Peter, I understand," Chief Wohl said. "We'll get out of your way."

He hugged his son briefly, but affectionately, and then, after she'd kissed their son, propelled Olga Wohl toward the elevator.

"You want to go get a cup of coffee or something?" Olsen asked.

"I didn't have any breakfast," Wohl said. "So I need some, which I think, under the circumstances, I'll even pay for."

"I know just the place," Olsen said. "If that was an invitation."

Olsen led him, on foot, to The Mall, a bar and restaurant on 9^th Street. It was popular not only with the Internal Affairs people, but also with Homicide detectives. Wohl had spent a lot of time and money in The Mall as both a staff inspector and when he'd been in Homicide. It was just what he wanted now, for it offered a nice menu and comfortable chairs at a table where their conversation would not be overheard.

He ordered Taylor ham and eggs, hash browns and coffee.

"Same for me, please," Olsen said, and waited for the waitress to leave.

"I sent for Sergeant Framm and Detective Pillare first thing this morning…" Olsen began.

"They're the two you had on Lanza?" Wohl interrupted.

Olsen nodded.

"…Framm opened the conversation by saying, 'It couldn't be helped, Captain, he dodged through traffic'"

"Oh, shit, they lost him?"

"They did," Olsen said. "And your Sergeant O'Dowd did…"

"O'Dowd was there too?"

Olsen nodded again. "And he lost him too, but your man Payne stayed with him."

"Detective Payne was there too?"

Goddammit, Lanza knows Matt, and he shouldn't have been anywhere near him. I am going to have to sit on him, and hard.

"And he followed him to an apartment house in Center City, and then arranged for a somewhat chagrined Sergeant Framm, Detective Pillare, and Sergeant O'Dowd to join him."

If O'Dowd was there, and what the hell was he doing there, he knew Payne was there, and should not have been there. Unless, of course, O 'Dowd told Matt to be there. Jesus Christ!

"You lose people. It happens to everybody. It's certainly happened to me," Wohl said.

"Shortly after Lanza got to the apartment building, Mr. Gian-Carlo Rosselliand Mr. Paulo Cassandro entered the premises, stayed approximately twenty minutes, and then left, obviously pleased with themselves, and went to the bar at the Hotel Warwick where they stayed until closing."

"Who did Lanza see in the apartment building?"

"A lady," Olsen said, and handed Wohl a photograph. "Brilliant detective work by myself this morning identified her as Antoinette Marie Wolinski Schermer, believed by Organized Crime to be the girlfriend of Mr. Ricco Baltazari, proprietor of Ristorante Alfredo."

"What's she doing with Lanza? He spend the night there?"

"Yeah, and it's not the first time."

The waitress delivered the coffee.

"I'm going to need another one of these," Wohl said to her.

She nodded and left. Wohl took a sip, then another, then looked at Olsen.

"It would seem he has nice friends, our Corporal Lanza," Wohl said.

"Yeah, doesn't he?" Olsen replied. "So I took this to Chief Marchessi…"

"Right," Wohl said.

"Peter, I didn't mention to him that Framm and Pillare lost Lanza. He's… Framm is, this is not the first time he's lost somebody…and he's already on the chief's shit list."

If Olsen is covering for Framm, he has his reasons, and it's not because Framm's a nice guy.

"He wasn't lost, that's all that counts," Wohl said.

"Thank you," Olsen said. "The chief asked what you thought of all this, and I told him you were unavailable…At this point in time, Mike Sabara was still stonewalling me."

"Good for him," Wohl said.

"So the chief said that what we should do is bring the airline security people in on this. You remember Dickie Lowell?"

"Sure."

Before my time, Wohl thought. But I remember him. H. Dickinson Lowell had been one of the first, if not the first, black staff inspectors. And then he made inspector. Well, dammit, 1 am not the first staff inspector to have the gall to try to get myself promoted.

"Well, they had him running the Headquarters Division in the Detective Bureau and he didn't like it, all the paperwork, so he took retirement. He's chief of security for Eastern at the airport. More important, he and Marchessi are old pals."

"He was a good cop, as I recall," Wohl said.

"Marchessi called him, and explained the situation. Lowell is going to have his people keep an eye on Lanza, and he told Marchessi he has some friends, other airlines security, that he can go to. He will not go to the feds, which is important to Marchessi…"

"And me," Wohl interjected.

"…but he will call Marchessi or me if Lanza does something suspicious. And we'll keep sitting on Lanza when he's not on the job."