When the mayor decided the time had come, what they were going to do in good ol' Augie Wohl's recreation room this afternoon was decide how they were going to clean up the Narcotics Unit, and how to do it right, so that n.o.body dirty would get to walk because some G.o.dd.a.m.ned defense lawyer caught them with an i i they hadn't dotted, or a they hadn't dotted, or a t t they'd forgotten to cross. they'd forgotten to cross.

He went in without knocking, and walked to the kitchen to kiss his mother.

There were six wives in the kitchen, dealing with the food: Chief Lowenstein's comfortably plump wife, Sarah; Angeline "Angie" Carlucci, the slight, almost delicate woman who was said to be the only human being of whom Mayor Carlucci lived in fear; Mike Weisbach's Natalie, a younger version of Sarah Lowenstein; Mike Sabara's Helen, a striking woman with luxuriant red hair; Jack Fellows's Beverly, a tall, slim woman who was an operating-room nurse at Temple Hospital; and Peter's mother.

Peter wondered tangentially how Martha Peebles-once she became Mrs. Captain David Pekach-was going to fit in with her fellow officer's wives. She would try, of course-she was absolutely bananas about her "Pre cious"-but her experience with feeding people was limited to telling her butler how many people would be coming to dinner, when, and what she would like to have them fed.

For that matter, he absolutely could not imagine Amy Payne in a kitchen, stirring spaghetti sauce, either.

Mrs. Carlucci and Mrs. Lowenstein insisted on their right, as women who had known him since he wore diapers, to kiss him.

"Your father and everybody's downstairs," his mother said.

"Really?" Peter replied, as if that was surprising.

"He's always been a smarty-pants," his mother said.

"Yes, he has," Sarah Lowenstein agreed. "But his time is coming."

"How's that?" Peter asked.

"There's a young lady out there-you just haven't b.u.mped into each other yet-who will change you."

"And any change would be an improvement, right?"

"You took the words out of my mouth."

Peter smiled at her and went down the narrow steps into the bas.e.m.e.nt.

He made his manners first with Mayor Carlucci, a tall, large-boned, heavyset fifty-three-year-old with dark intelligent eyes and a full head of brown hair brushed close to his scalp.

"Mr. Mayor," he said.

"I like your suit, Peter," Carlucci said, and tried to crush Peter's hand with his.

He failed.

"You're stronger than you look," the mayor said.

"Thank you, sir."

"Smarter, too," Peter's father said, draping an arm around his shoulders.

Peter shook hands with the others, then made himself a drink.

The trip down memory lane started. Peter didn't pay much attention. He had heard all the stories at least twice before. He sensed that both Mikes, Weisbach and Sabara, were slightly ill at ease.

Sabara's uncomfortable, probably, Peter thought, because he's here and Dave Pekach isn't. And Weisbach is legitimately worried about how much of this Five Squad investigation is going to be placed on his shoulders.

The conference vis-a-vis the investigation of allegations of corruption within the Narcotics Unit began when everyone declined another piece of cake, whereupon Mrs. Wohl announced that she would put another pot of coffee on and leave them alone.

"Peter, you help carry the heavy things upstairs," she ordered.

In three minutes, the Ping-Pong table pressed into service as a buffet table and all the folding tables were cleared and put away.

"I always like a second cup of coffee to settle my stomach," Mayor Carlucci announced.

Lieutenant Fellows quickly served him one.

"Don't mind me," the mayor said. "If anyone wants something harder than coffee, help yourselves."

Chiefs Coughlin and Lowenstein went to the refrigerator and helped themselves to bottles of Neuweiler's ale. The others poured coffee. The pot ran dry.

Lieutenant Fellows went upstairs to see how the fresh pot was coming.

"I talked to Jason Washington about this," the mayor began. "Maybe I should have asked Augie to have him here for this. Anyway, Washington told me he believes Officer Kellog's widow believes what she told him about the whole Five Squad being dirty. No disrespect to Captain Pekach intended-he's a fine officer-but despite what he says about if there was something dirty going in Narcotics he would have known about it, I don't think we can ignore what the widow said. Now, what else have we got?"

"The threatening telephone call," Peter Wohl said. "I believe that Mrs. Milham-"

"Mrs. Milham? Milham?" Mayor Carlucci interrupted.

"She and Wally Milham went to Maryland and got married, Mr. Mayor," Peter said. "I thought you knew."

"Now that you mention it . . . go ahead, Peter."

"I believe there was such a call," Peter said. "And so does Wally Milham."

"He would have to believe it, wouldn't you say, Peter? I mean, after all, he was slipping the salami to her before her husband was murdered."

"Wally Milham is a good cop, Mr. Mayor," Peter said.

The mayor looked at him for a long moment without expression.

"Tell me about the tapes," the mayor said finally.

"They're in the process of being transcribed," Peter said.

"Still? Christ, you've had them for a week."

"The tapes were damaged by fire, Mr. Mayor," Peter said. "They're very hard to transcribe."

"Get somebody good to do it. Somebody smart and fast."

"Detective Payne is transcribing them," Wohl said.

"And working hard at it, sir. Like last night at midnight," Mike Sabara interjected. "I listened to a little of them . . ."

"Did you?" the mayor asked, not pleasantly.

"I was surprised he's able to get anything off them at all," Sabara said.

"So they're useless?" the mayor said.

"No, sir," Peter Wohl said. "Both Payne and Sergeant Washington, who has read what Payne has transcribed so far, believe there will be something useful in them when we're finished. "

"The point I'm trying to make, Peter, and I'm not just trying to give you a hard time, is that we really don't have anything, except accusations made by a Five Squad wife who wasn't sleeping with her own husband," Carlucci said. "Against which, we have the opinion of a d.a.m.ned good cop who used to work Narcotics and says if there was anything wrong, he would have known about it."

No one replied.

The mayor looked at Chief Inspector Dennis V. Coughlin.

"You think we'd be spinning our wheels on this one, Denny?"

"It may turn out that way, but I think we have to do it," Chief Coughlin said.

"Matt?" the mayor asked, turning his head to Chief Inspector Matthew Lowenstein.

"I agree with Denny," Lowenstein said, looking at the b.u.t.t of his cigar.

"You think we should go ahead, in other words?"

"Yeah, Jerry, I do."

"You don't seem very happy about it."

"No, I'm not. For one thing, if we find dirty cops in Five Squad, the whole department looks bad. Internally, so does Internal Affairs because we dug it out, not them. Let's say you give this to Peter-"

"I'm thinking of suggesting to the commissioner that it be given to Ethical Affairs."

"Same thing. Nothing personal, Mike," Lowenstein said, looking at Staff Inspector Weisbach, "but you can't do it without Peter's help, which, the way I see it, puts Peter in charge."

"And since Peter-nothing personal, Peter-" the mayor said, "can't do it without the help of the chief inspector of detectives, the way you see it, does that put you in charge?"

"Come on, Jerry."

"Or without the help of Chief Coughlin, does that put Denny in charge?"

"What are you driving at, Jerry?" Coughlin asked "That you want me, or Matt, to take this?"

"n.o.body pays attention to what I say is what I'm driving at. I'll try again. I'm going to suggest to Commissioner Czernich than an investigation of certain allegations concerning the Narcotics Unit is in order, and that it should be conducted by the Ethical Affairs Unit. Therefore, Mike Weisbach will be in charge. I am also going to suggest to the Commissioner that he direct Peter, Denny, and you, Matt, to provide Mike with whatever he thinks he needs to get the job done. Now, is that clear in everybody's mind?"

There was a chorus of "Yes, sir."

"And since everybody involved is an experienced police officer, it will not be necessary for me to tell you that the best way to blow this investigation is to let those sc.u.mbags even suspect somebody's taking a close look at them, right? Do I make that point? I want them. I want them bad. If there's anything worse than a drug dealer, it's a police officer either hiding drug dealers behind his badge, or, G.o.d forbid, dealing drugs himself."

He looked around at all of them.

"Peter, since you'll be working closer with Mike than anybody else, once a day, either Fellows or myself will telephone you and you'll tell us what's happened in the past twenty-four hours. You'll also keep Matt and Denny up to speed. As little as possible in writing. Papers have a way of turning up in the wrong hands."

"Yes, sir," Peter Wohl said.

SIX.

When Matt Payne glanced into the lobby as he drove past the Delaware Valley Cancer Society Building, he saw two men in business suits sitting on the leather-and-chrome seats facing the receptionist's desk.

Except for the Wachenhut rent-a-cop the Cancer Society installed behind the receptionist's desk, they closed down tight at night and on weekends. It was therefore possible-even likely-that anyone in the lobby was waiting for him, not for someone connected with the Cancer Society.

He slowed and took a closer look. He recognized neither man. He shrugged and drove around the block, to the rear of the building, where he had to get out of the Porsche and use a difficult key to open the steel door lowered on weekends over the entrance to the bas.e.m.e.nt garage. He entered the garage, then got out of the Porsche again to reclose the door.

He rode to the fourth-floor landing on the elevator, unlocked his door, and climbed the narrow stairway to his apartment.

Which seemed to be in even a greater mess than he remembered. An unpleasant sweetish odor told him that he had again forgotten to get rid of the G.o.dd.a.m.ned garbage under the sink. He would, he realized, have to deal with both problems tonight.

Just as soon as he dealt with his answering machine, the red light of which was blinking.

"Matt," the recorded voice said. "Mike Weisbach. Sorry to bother you on your day off. If you get in before, say, half past ten, give me a ring at home, will you? 774- 4923."

He slumped onto the couch and reached for the telephone.

A woman answered.

"Inspector Weisbach, please. Detective Payne returning his call."

"Hi, Matt. This is Natalie. I'll get him."

"Thank you."

Why the h.e.l.l can't I remember her name?

"Hey, Matt. Glad I caught you."

"What's up, Inspector?"

"Peter Wohl asked me to call you. We'll be working together on the Five Squad mess."

"Yes, sir. I spoke with the inspector earlier. He said he thought we'd get stuck with that."

"I'm going to get together with everybody in the morning, nine o'clock, your office. But what I'm calling about now is the tapes."