Special Operations (Badge of Honor 2)

“An Undercover comes with a built-in shroud over the hammer; it’s intended to keep you from snagging the gun on your clothing, if you should ever need to get at it in a hurry. And they sell shrouds for Colts. The problem is you can’t carry a gun with a shroud in an ankle holster; there’s no place for the strap on the holster to catch.”

“I understand, sir.”

“The odds that you will ever have to use your revolver, which I hope they told you at the Academy, are about a thousand to one. But as the Boy Scouts say, “Be Prepared!”

He smiled at Matt and got up and walked out of the restaurant with Matt at his heels.

When Peter Wohl walked into what had been Mike Sabara’s office as Acting Commanding Officer of Highway Patrol, and was now his, it was empty; all of Mike’s photographs and plaques were gone from the walls, and so were the pistol shooting and bowling trophies Sabara had had on display on top of filing cabinets and other flat surfaces. Wohl walked to the desk, pulled drawers open, and saw that they too had been emptied.

He walked to the door.

“What happened to Captain Sabara?” he asked Sergeant Frizell.

“He and Captain Pekach moved in there,” Frizell said, pointing to a door.

Wohl walked to it and pulled it open. He had been unaware of the room’s existence until that moment, and now that he saw it, he realized that it was really too small for two captains, and felt a moment’s uneasiness at having the relatively large office to himself. He hadn’t had an office when he had been just one more Staff Inspector. He had shared a large room with all of his peers, and he had not had a Sergeant to handle his paperwork.

I guess it goes with the territory, he decided, but I don’t like it.

“We’re going to have to do better than that,” he said, to Sergeant Frizell. “In your planning, did the subject of space come up?”

“Space is tight, Inspector.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“There’s an elementary school building at Frankford and Castor,” Frizell said. “Not being used. The Department’s been talking to the Board of Education about that.”

“And?”

“It’s a school building,” Frizell said. “There’s no detention cells, nothing but a bunch of classrooms. Not even much space for parking.”

“And there’s no room in this building to move in fifty, maybe a hundred, maybe two hundred cops,” Wohl said. “Find out what’s being said, and to whom, about us getting it, will you?”

“Yes, sir,” Frizell said. “There was some discussion about giving Special Operations, if it grows as large as it might with the ACT Grants, Memorial Hall.”

“At Forty-forth and Parkside in Fairmount Park?”

“Yes, sir.”

“That would be nice. Keep your ears open and keep me advised,” Wohl said.

Frizell nodded. “Inspector, what do you want me to do about these?” He held up the Northwest Philadelphia rape files.

“I told Payne to Xerox them in four copies.”

“Our Xerox is down.”

“What about the machine in the District?”

“Well, they’re not too happy with us using theirs,” Frizell said. “They’ll do it, but they make us wait.”

I will be damned if I will go find the District Captain and discuss Xerox priorities with him.

“Sergeant,” Wohl said, his annoyance showing in his voice, “high on your list of priorities is getting us a new Xerox machine. Call Deputy Commissioner Whelan’s office and tell them I said we need one desperately.”

“Yes, sir,” Frizell said. “And in the meantime, sir, what do I do with this?”

“Payne,” Wohl ordered. “Go get that Xeroxed someplace. You’re a bright young man, you’ll find a machine somewhere.”