Special Operations (Badge of Honor 2)

“Where would you like to eat? The Melrose Diner okay?”

There was no response from either of them.

“Jason, I’m not sure the kid driving your car knows where the Melrose is,” Wohl said. “You want to ride with him and show him? I’ll take Tony with me.”

“Where’s the car?” Jason Washington asked. It was the first time he had opened his mouth.

“Behind mine,” Wohl said, “at the curb.”

Washington marched out of the lobby.

He’s really pissed, Peter thought, and wondered again if he was doing the right thing. And then he felt a wave of anger. Fuck him! He’s a cop. Cops do what they’re told. Nobody asked me if I wanted this goddamned job, either!

“Tony,” Wohl said, “aside from telling you that you can make as much overtime in Special Operations as you’ve been making in Homicide, what we’re going to talk about at lunch is how I want you to do this job, not whether or not you like it.”

Tony Harris met his eyes, looked as if he was going to reply, but didn’t; then he walked toward the door from the lobby.

TWELVE

Officer Matt Payne had more than a little difficulty complying with Staff Inspector Peter Wohl’s order to “Call the office, Payne; tell them where we are. And you better ask if anything’s new about the abduction.”

It was, he thought, as he fished the thick Philadelphia telephone book from under the pay phone in the foyer of the Melrose Diner, the first time he had ever called the Police Department.

And the phone book was not much help.

The major listing under POLICE was the POLICE ATHLETIC LEAGUE. A dozen addresses and numbers were furnished, none of which had anything to do with what he wanted.

Under POLICE DEPARTMENT were listings to

neither of which were what he was looking for.

A little farther down the listing was

Matt tried the OTHER POLICE HELP number first.

“Police Emergency,” a male voice responded on the fifth ring. “May I help you?”

“Sorry,” Matt said, “wrong number,” and hung up. He chuckled and said, “Shit,” and put his finger back on the listing. By ADMIN OFCS 7&RACE they obviously meant the Roundhouse. But the number listed was the same as the one listed for the POLICE ACADEMY, which was to hell and gone the other side of town.

He put another dime in the slot and dialed 686–1776.

“City of Philadelphia,” a bored female replied on the ninth ring.

“May I speak to the Special Operations Division of the Police Department, please.”

“What?”

“Special Operations, please, in the Police Department.”

“One moment, please,” the woman replied, and Matt exhaled in relief.

But there was no ringing sound, and after a long pause, the woman came back on the line. ?

??I have no such listing, sir,” she said, and the line went dead.

He fumbled through his change for another dime and couldn’t find one. But he had a quarter and dropped it in the slot and dialed 686–1776 again.

“City of Philadelphia,” another bored female answered on the eleventh ring.