The Witness (Badge of Honor 4)

“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.

“He says ‘murderers,’ not ‘murderer,’” Wohl injected. “Does that mean he doesn’t know Matt shot Dawes?”

“It was all over the papers, and TV too,” Washington said. “I can’t see how he can’t know. Are we taking this as a bona fide threat to Matt?”

“It seems to me the first thing we have to do is find this Abdullah el Sikkim,” Lowenstein said. “Did you get anything out of the ones we arrested about more people being involved?”

“I’m letting them stew until after supper,” Washington replied. “I’m going to start running them through lineups at half past six.”

“Why haven’t you done that already?” Lowenstein demanded.

“Because I think I will get more out of them after they have been locked up, all alone, all day,” Washington explained. “The adrenaline will have worn off. They may even be a little worried about their futures by half past six. That’s the way I called it, but I could go down there right now, Chief, if you or Inspector Wohl think I should.”

“You’re a sergeant now, Jason, a supervisor, but since you don’t have anybody but Tony Harris to supervise, I guess it’s your job.” Wohl said. “I won’t tell you how to do it.”

Washington met his eyes.

“Are you going to tell Matt about this?” he asked.

“The question we wanted to ask you,” Wohl said, “for quotation, I think I should tell you, at a five o’clock meeting with the commissioner, was, do we take this thing seriously? Are they really going to try to kill Matt, and/or the witnesses, which right now is Monahan, period?”

“So you asked us if we thought it should be taken seriously,” Lowenstein said. “Why the hell are we letting these scumbags get to us, the three of us, this way?”

“And the next question was going to be,” Wohl went on, “did Monahan go ahead and make a positive ID of these people after the threat was made? Obviously, since you’re not going to run the lineup until half past six, that can’t be answered.”

“The reason the three of us are upset by this,” Washington said thoughtfully, “is that as much as we don’t want to believe it, as incredible as this whole Islamic Liberation Army thing sounds, we have a gut feeling that these people are perfectly serious. They are just crazy enough, or dumb enough, to try to kill Matt and Monahan.”

Lowenstein took a fresh cigar, as thick as his thumb and six inches long, from his pocket. He bit off the end, and then took a long time lighting it properly.

“Harry will be back in a minute,” he said finally. “I sent him to have a talk with Hospital Security. He’s a retired Internal Affairs sergeant. I want whatever he can give us to keep this under control.”

Detective Harry McElroy was Chief Inspector Lowenstein’s driver.

“I want to get plainclothes people to guard Matt,” Wohl said. “A lot of uniforms are going to signal these idiots—and the public—that we’re taking them serio

usly.”

“You mean you don’t want us to look scared,” Lowenstein said. “OK. Good point. But protecting Monahan is something else. You did intend, Peter, to put Highway on him and his wife twenty-four hours a day?”

“Special Operations will continue to provide two police officers to guard Mr. Monahan and his wife around the clock,” Wohl said, and then when he saw the look on Lowenstein’s face went on: “To take the ACT people off that job—they are police officers, Chief—as a result of this ‘press release’ would both signal the Liberation Army that we’re afraid of them, and send the message to the ACT cops that I don’t have any faith in them.”

“I hope your touching faith is justified, Peter,” Lowenstein said. “If they get to Monahan, either kill him, or scare him so that he won’t testify, this whole thing goes down the tube, the scumbags go free, and the whole police department, not just you, will have egg all over its face.”

“I intend to protect Mr. Monahan,” Wohl said, a little sharply. “I’m even thinking about shotguns.”

“You have enough ex-Stakeout people who are shotgun qualified?” Lowenstein asked.

Unlike most major city police departments, which routinely equip police officers with shotguns, Philadelphia does not. Only the specially armed Stakeout unit is issued shotguns.

“I’ve got people finding out,” Wohl said.

“I’ll call the range at the Police Academy, Peter,” Lowenstein said. “Have ten of your people there in an hour. The Range Training Officers will be set up to train and certify them in no more than two hours.”

“Thank you,” Wohl said, simply.

“I hope Harry gets something from hospital security,” Washington said. “How long is Matt going to be in here, anyway?”