Manhattan 62 Read Online Free PDF Page B

of Logan, I said, “I know how it is, man, those bastards ordering you around, what’s going on? This your first homicide?”
    He nodded. “I was doing regular foot patrol, you know, I been on the job a year, and then Logan needs somebody, and they put me on this, they tell me to buy a suit. I’m supposed to take care of whatever he needs. I don’t know why, or what the hell I’m doing.”
    â€œYou feel like some kind of chauffeur, he has to be thinking you’re only good to wipe up after him? Wipe his ass, so to speak?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œDon’t worry. By the end of tomorrow, you’ll be working with me.” There was no way I could actually fix this, but I wanted the guy to talk to me. I lied in a tone of voice that conveyed I understood, that we were brothers and that if he played ball with me, he didn’t need to take any shit from the brass. I lied. I was good at it.
    â€œYou need a smoke?” I asked. “What’s your first name?”
    â€œYeah, thanks. It’s James. Jimmy.”
    I got out my pack and handed it over.
    â€œYou want to use the radio?”
    â€œSure,” I said and called my boss who told me I was on leave. Didn’t explain, just parroted what Logan had said.
    â€œThanks,” I said, handing the phone back to Jimmy who put it in its cradle in Logan’s car. “Anything you want to tell me? You look like a smart cop, and I could sure use some help.”
    Finally, puffing on the Chesterfield I gave him, he leaned close to me. “I think the Feds are in this. I saw the boss with an agent earlier. I could tell. I heard the word sabotage. National security. I hear them talking about subversive activities. There’s long-distance calls coming in from Washington DC and Miami. I’m supposed to stay in the outer office, but people talk. They’re keeping the telephone operators on late. FBI agents are coming in, people slamming doors, those hush hush conversations, you know?” Jimmy Garrity gestured to the end of the pier. “Then this homicide comes in a few hours ago, and they’re all over it. You think this has to do with Cuba? You think the Russians are going to bomb us? I hear planes at night, I can’t sleep.” In the dim light, he looked young and scared.
    â€œI think you should do your job, and you’ll be fine. OK, Jimmy?”
    He hesitated.
    â€œWhat?”
    Garrity lowered his voice further. “Give me your home phone, I’ll try to keep you on board.”
    â€œWhy don’t you give me yours?” I said, and he scribbled a number down and tore the page out of his notebook. “Thanks. You don’t like Logan, do you?”
    â€œI don’t trust him.”
    â€œWhy’s that?”
    â€œIn the car, he’s always talking about brainwashing, and how we should learn from the Commies, and he reads books about how the Chinese do it, and we should consider using their ways. Told me once torture is a means to an end, and if the end is in our interest, we have every right. He’s a mean son-of-a-bitch, I mean, he even makes the girls in the office cry when he yells at them, and I don’t hold with that.”
    â€œThink hard. Anyone in particular who comes to the office?”
    Garrity looked at his boss. A group of men had formed around Logan—the cops who had arrived just before him, two others, Feds, maybe—all of them heads down, all in their dark hats and coats smoking and talking together; like courtiers, they all attended to Logan; there was no way into that closed circle unless you belonged.
    â€œYou know, two or three times, I saw a man in an expensive coat, not a cop. I had never seen him, yeah, but he walks right in, doesn’t say a word, closes Logan’s door behind him.”
    â€œWhat kind of coat?”
    â€œEnglish like. Like in a movie. Belted. Like some spy in a movie. Big head of silver hair. Pompadour. I