"Is that guy you live with around? Sober?"
There was a brief pause.
"How the hell are you, Augie?" Larkin asked.
Staff Inspector Peter Wohl's eyes rolled up toward the ceiling; he shook his head from side to side, smiled faintly, and exhaled audibly.
"I'm in Philadelphia, and I need a favor," Supervisory Special Agent Larkin went on. "I need a good word. For some reason, I got off on the wrong foot with one of your guys, and I'd like to set it right."
"I appreciate it, pal. Hold on a minute."
Larkin handed the telephone to Peter Wohl.
"Chief Wohl would like a word with you, Inspector," he said.
Peter Wohl took the telephone.
"Good morning, Dad," he said.
Larkin, beaming smugly, tapped his fingertips together.
"Yes, I'm afraid Mr. Larkin was talking about me. Obviously, there has been what they call a communications problem, Dad. Nothing that can't be fixed."
Chief Wohl spoke for almost a minute, before Peter Wohl replied, " I'll do what I can, Dad. I don't know his schedule."
He handed the phone back to Larkin.
"Chief Wohl would like to talk to you again, Mr. Larkin."
"I don't know what his plans are for lunch, Augie, but I'm free, and I accept. Okay. Bookbinder's at twelve. Look forward to it."
He reached over and replaced the handset in its cradle.
They looked at each other for a moment, and then Wohl chuckled, and then laughed. Larkin joined in.
"I thought my guy here said 'Wall,'" Larkin said. "I don't know anybody named 'Wall.'"
"Well, while you and my dad have a lobster, that I'll pay for, I' ll have a boiled crow," Wohl said. "Will that set things right?"
"I'm sorry I used that phrase," Larkin said. "Nothing has gone wrong yet, but I'm glad I saw your father's picture on the wall. I think you and I could have crossed swords, and that would have been unfortunate. Can I ask a question?"
"Certainly."
"Have you got a hard-on for the feds generally, or is there someone in particular who's been giving you trouble? One of our guys, maybe?"
Wohl, almost visibly, carefully chose his words.
"I think the bottom line, Mr. Larkin, is that I was being overprotective of my turf. They just gave me Dignitary Protection, and I wanted to make sure it was understood who was running it. I really feel like a fool."
"Don't. The Secret Service is a nasty bureaucracy too. I understand how that works."
"When you're aware of your ignorance, you tend to gather your wagons in a circle," Wohl said.
"Well, I'm not the Indians," Larkin said. "And now that we both know that, could you bring yourself to call me Charley?"
"My dad might decide I was being disrespectful," Wohl said.
"Peter, if you keep calling me 'Mr. Larkin,' your dad will think we still have a communications problem."