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“Martinez?” Matt asked.

&

nbsp; Martinez shrugged.

Matt picked up the telephone and ordered the Penn-Harris steak and eggs breakfast for two, and an extra-large pot of coffee.

“Good morning, Mr. Savarese. This is Chief Inspector Dennis V. Coughlin of the Philadelphia Police Department. I hope I didn’t call too early.”

“What’s on your mind, Mr. Coughlin?”

“I think it’s quite important that we have a talk, Mr. Savarese, at your earliest convenience.”

“I’m sure that you do, inasmuch as you are calling me at my home—and on my unlisted number—at seven forty-five in the morning.”

“Believe me, it is.”

“You wouldn’t care to tell me what it is that’s so important?”

“I would rather do that when we meet.”

“And where, and when, Mr. Coughlin, do you suggest that we meet?”

“If this would be agreeable to you, I was thinking of the restaurant in the Hotel Warwick. I thought we could talk over breakfast.”

“You mean, right now?”

“I believe that it would be in our mutual interest, Mr. Savarese, if we met as soon as possible.”

“But you’re not willing to tell me why you think it would be so?”

“I think it would be better if we talked privately.”

“And would you be alone, Mr. Coughlin?”

“I will have Inspector Wohl with me, but the conversation I hope we can have will be just between us. It’s a rather delicate matter.”

“Inspector Wohl is a splendid police officer, as, indeed, was his father. What I think would be possible, Mr. Coughlin, is that I would come to the Warwick accompanied by my chauffeur, Mr. Pietro Cassandro. He and Inspector Wohl could have their breakfast together, and see that you and I are not disturbed while we are enjoying ours.”

“That would be perfectly satisfactory to me, Mr. Savarese.”

“Perhaps this might be a good omen, Mr. Coughlin,” Savarese said. “But Pietro just walked in the door. Shall we say in thirty minutes? Would that be convenient for you?”

“Yes, it would. Thirty minutes it is. I look forward to seeing you, Mr. Savarese.”

“Good-bye, Mr. Coughlin.”

Coughlin hung the phone up and turned to look at the other people in his office. In addition to Inspector Peter Wohl, they were Jerry Carlucci, mayor of the City of Philadelphia; Chief Inspector Matt Lowenstein; Lieutenant Jack Fellows, the mayor’s bodyguard; and Frank F. Young, Assistant Special Agent in Charge (Criminal Affairs) of the Philadelphia office of the Federal Bureau of Investigation.

Young had absolutely nothing to do with what was going on, but when Walter Davis had announced, at six-thirty—to everybody’s initial relief—that he had things pending in the office that just could not be put off, and would have to leave, he finished the announcement by saying not to worry, he would call Frank Young and have him come to Special Operations to see what help he could be.

Coughlin could not think of any credible reason to suggest that all Young would do would be in the way. There was no question in his mind that Young’s presence would be primarily to make sure the FBI didn’t get left out of anything that would accrue to the interest of the FBI.

“Thirty minutes,” Coughlin announced. “Peter gets to have breakfast with Pietro.”

“I can hardly wait,” Wohl said.

“You really think this is necessary, Denny?” the mayor asked.