Was that a dig? Or was he just being clever?
"I think so."
"But nothing specific to report?"
"No."
"Are you somewhere where you can conveniently and confidentially telephone? There's someone else you really should talk to."
"Wohl?"
"Matthews."
"I'm in a glass-walled office off the lobby of the Harrisburg Bank and Trust Company," Matt said. "It's private enough, but I would have to call him collect."
"Give me the number-I should have thought of that anyway-and I'll suggest he call you. The unattractive lady bandito has apparently struck again."
"Really? Where?"
"I have only the most rudimentary facts. But I suspect Jack Matthews is happily anticipating providing you with every last detail."
Matt read the telephone number and the extension off the phone to Washington.
"I am sure that you will be hearing from Matthews within minutes," Washington said. "And there is one more thing, Matt."
"What?"
"Peter Wohl is concerned that you might do something foolish. So am I. Allow Mr. Matthews's associates to deal with this beyond the limitations of what you were ordered to do."
"Okay."
"If you were to disobey your orders, and Wohl, so to speak, threw the book at you, he would have my complete support."
"You have made your point."
"I devoutly hope so," Washington said, and hung up.
Three minutes later, Dolores, after first knocking, put her head into the door of the office.
"There is a Mr. Rogers of the Philadelphia Savings Fund Society on line three for you, Mr. Payne. Do you want to take it?"
"Thank you," Matt said, and picked up the telephone. "Payne."
"Can you talk?"
"Didn't you just hear me talking?"
"Christ, Matt!"
"What can I do for you, Mr. Rogers? Don't tell me I'm overdrawn again?"
He could hear Matthews sigh.
"The Farmers and Merchants Bank of Clinton, New Jersey, was held up yesterday morning. We just heard about it, and I just talked to our Newark office-they have jurisdiction. Same modus operandi as the Riegelsville job. Same description of the perpetrator. This time, the haul was nearly sixty thousand dollars."
"Hairy legs and all?"
"That wasn't mentioned. But the unattractive, heavy makeup, earrings, et cetera, et cetera. For reasons I can't understand, Newark sent the surveillance-camera film to Washington-to the Anti-Terrorist Group; I suppose they issued a 'Report Similar Events' notice-before they processed it. I called Special Agent Jernigan, and he's promised to send me whatever the camera shows by wire as soon as it's processed. I'll be very surprised if it turns out to be someone else."
"Sawed-off shotgun, too?"
"No. That's the one thing that doesn't fit the modus. This time it was a sawed-off carbine."
"Explain that to me, please?"
"One of the witnesses-the bank guard-got a good look at it. The stock had been cut off behind the pistol grip, and then rounded with a file. And the barrel was cut off back to where the forearm whatchamacallit holds it. You understand?"
"What's the purpose?"
"Concealability, obviously. And presumably our friend thinks he now has the latest thing in terrorist machine-pistols. Those were M2-fully automatic carbines-they stole from Indiantown Gap."
" 'Presumably our friend thinks'?" Matt quoted.
"I fired a carbine modified very much like this one on the FBI range at Quantico. They look great, very menacing, but-"
"I've fired one, too," Matt interrupted. "And also at Quantico. But on the Marine Corps' known-distance range."
"Okay. Then, knowing that there's a good deal of recoil in a carbine, you'll understand how hard this 'modification ' would be to control, even single shot, without the stock. If he tries to fire it full automatic, he just couldn't control it. The danger here is-"
"If he should try to take a shot at a cop, or one of you guys, he'd be more likely to hit a civilian," Matt finished for him.
"Right."
"What is this clown doing, acting out a fantasy?"
"That bombed building was no fantasy, Matt."
"No," Matt agreed. "Anything else?"
"How did your dinner with the girlfriend go?"
"What do you mean, 'girlfriend'?"
"Chenowith's, not yours, of course."
"I must have missed something. I thought the Ollwood woman was his girlfriend."
"Right. So what?"
"Yes or no?"
"No. I have carefully gone through everything. I have had plenty of time, you see, waiting patiently by my telephone to hear from you-"
"Screw you, Jack," Matt said amiably.
"— and there is nothing to suggest that the Reynolds woman is, or has been, romantically involved with either male."
" 'Either male?"
"I didn't mean to suggest that. But who knows? These people don't consider themselves bound by the usual conventions of society. If it feels good, do it."
Christ, is that a possibility? There is no boyfriend. Has been no boyfriend…
"How did dinner go?" Matthews asked.
Well, pal, we had dinner with Mommy and Daddy, and Daddy taught me how to cook a London broil, and then we went to the country club. En route, the female suspect got pinched for speeding, and I talked a local uniform out of writing the ticket. At the country club, I taught the female suspect to eat Roquefort on crackers with a sip of cabernet sauvignon, and we talked about mutual friends, and then the female suspect kissed me for approximately one-tenth of second, whereupon my heart nearly jumped out of my chest. Moments later, my wang tried very hard to break through my zipper. And then I tossed and turned most of the night, thinking about it.
"All right," Matt said,
"Are you gaining her confidence? Do you think she suspects you're in Harrisburg for any reason but the cover story?"
"Yes and no. That was two questions."
"Are you sure she's not suspicious? That's a clever female, Matt. She might be able to conceal her suspicions from you, to see what you're really up to."
"Hey, I was told to liaise-whatever the hell that means-with you, not have you question my conclusions. "
"What's the matter with you?" Matthews asked, sounding shocked.
"Nothing. Why should there be?"
There was a pause, then Matthews asked, "What happens next? Are you going to see her again?"
"Dinner, tonight."
"You haven't picked up on anything?"
"Our relationship is not yet at the point where I can ask, 'Hey, Susie, by the way, what do you hear from your friend, the bomber and bank robber?' But I'm working on it."
"You will, of course, call me if you do pick up on anything? I mean, presuming you got out of the right side of bed that morning?"
"Yeah. Of course I will. But for Christ's sake, don't expect miracles."
"Be careful, buddy."
"I will."
Matthews hung up.
Ten minutes after her conversation with Matt Payne-while part of her mind was still occupied with wondering why she somehow just hadn't been able to tell him that not only would she not have dinner with him tonight, but that the fun and games was over, period, don't call me anymore, period-Susan Reynolds received a telephone call from Jennifer Ollwood.
"Hi," Jennie began.
Susan gave her a telephone number and hung up. She rose from her desk and put her head in the door of Appeals Officer, Grade IV, Veronica Haynes.
"Cover for me, will you, Veronica? I'll be back in fifteen minutes."
"Make it half an hour," Veronica replied. "Fifteen minutes isn't really long enough for an early-morning quickie, is it?"
"Is that all you ever have on your mind?"
"Yeah," Veronica said, after appearing to have given the question serious thought. "What's more important?"
"I can think of some things."
"Some things that are as much fun?"
"Yeah," Susan said, after appearing to give Veronica's question as much serious thought as Veronica had given hers.