The Assassin (Badge of Honor 5)

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Wohl led Malone fifty yards away from the barbecue pit and then stopped.

"Okay, let's have it," he said.

"I had a call from the Secret Service this morning," Malone replied. "A guy named H. Charles Larkin.Supervisory Special Agent H. Charles Larkin."

"How did he get to you?"

"I told you that Dignitary Protection sergeant, Henkels, has a room temperature IQ. Larkin called him, and he gave him my number."

"What did this guy want?"

"He said that he was the guy in charge of the Vice President's security; that he was coming up here by train in the morning; and that I'm 'invited' to the Philly office of the Secret Service at ninethirty to discuss the Vice President's visit."

"Tomorrow's Sunday," Wohl thought aloud, "and I can't believe this guy doesn't know he's supposed to go through Captain Whatsisname Duffy in the Roundhouse."

"JackDuffy," Malone furnished. "Special assistant to the commissioner for inter-agency liaison."

Wohl looked at him and grunted. "What did you tell this guy?"

"That I would get back to him. And then I started looking for you."

"Have you got this guy's number?"

Malone nodded, and Wohl made a "follow me" gesture with his hand and led him back to the barbecue pit.

"Martha," he said. "I have to call Washington. May I use the phone? I'll have it billed to the Department, of course."

"Don't be silly. Just use the phone."

"Thank you," Wohl said, going to the cubicle in the brick wall where Evans had stored the telephone.

"Dave," he called. "I want you and Mike to hear this. And you too, Matt."

Pekach and Sabara walked over to him. Officer O'Mara, Matt thought, looked like he had just been told the Big Boys didn't want to play with him. And then Wohl saw the look on O'Mara's face too:

"And, of course, you too, O'Mara. You're supposed to be able to remind me of what I said."

"Yes, sir."

Wohl pointed to the phone. Malone took a notebook from his pocket, opened it, and found the number he had.

"Person to person, Jack," Wohl ordered.

The call went through very quickly. Malone put his hand over the microphone.

"They're ringing him."

Wohl took the telephone from Malone, and held it slightly away from his ear so the others would be able to hear both sides of the conversation.

"Larkin," a somewhat brusque voice said.

"Mr. Larkin, this is Inspector Peter Wohl of the Special Operations Division of the Philadelphia Police Department."

"What can I do for you, Inspector?"

"That's what I intended to ask you. You called one of my people, Lieutenant Malone, an hour or so ago."