Final justice

"Susan Reynolds," Matt answered.

And I loved her, and she loved me, but we didn't make it to that vine-covered cottage by the side of the road because that lunatic Chenowith let fly with his automatic carbine.

He had a sudden painfully clear mental image of Susan on her back in the parking lot behind the Crossroads Diner, her mouth and her sightless eyes open, her blond hair in a spreading pool of blood. The carbine bullet had made a small, neat hole just below her left eye, and a much nastier hole at the back of her head as it exited.

He laid his fork down, put his napkin on the table, and stood up.

"Will you excuse me, please?" he said, and looked around the room in search of a bathroom.

As he walked across the room, he heard Monsignor Schneider ask, "Detective Payne has experience working with the FBI, does he?" and heard Lieutenant McGuire's answer.

"Yes, he does, Monsignor."

Then he was in the bathroom, hurriedly fastening the lock, and hoping that he could splash cold water on his face quickly enough to force back the bile and nausea he felt rising.

Ninety seconds later, he was leaning with his back against the bathroom wall, wiping his face with a towel, exhaling audibly. He had managed to keep from throwing up, but there had been a cold sweat, and he could feel the clammy touch of his undershirt on his skin.

You're going to have to stop this shit, Matthew. That was a long time ago, Susan is not going to come back, and you're going to have to really put all of that out of your mind, or they'll put you in a rubber room.

Finally, he hung the towel back on its rack, and then, after purposefully taking several slow, deep breaths, unlatched the door and went out of the bathroom. Everyone was filing into the conference room-how the hell long was I in the john?- and he joined the line at the end, taking his seat at the table where he had left the laptop.

He saw a dark blue plastic folder lying beside his laptop. There was a neatly printed label on its cover:Stan Colt's Visit to Philadelphia. Matt looked around the table and saw that everyone had been provided with a folder, and that there was another laptop on the table, in front of a man about his age wearing a gray business suit.

Matt's seat turned out to be beside Monsignor Schneider.

"Are you all right, son? You look a little pale."

"A little indigestion, sir. I'm afraid I gulped the omelet."

"If I may have your attention," a natty, intense-looking man in a dark suit said, waited until everyone was looking at him, and then went on. "I think it might be a good idea if we all knew each other. I'll start with me. My name is Rogers Ke

"This lovely young lady, who is living proof that there is such a thing as the opposite of the dumb blonde of fame and legend, is Miss Terry Davis, of GAM's West Coast Division. Vice President Davis has been charged with the hands-on management of Mr. Colt's visit…" 1005 head gam man is rogers ke

Mr. Robards smiled around the table.

"Administrative executive"? What the hell is that? larry robards is ke

"I'm Monsignor Schneider," Schneider said, smiling but not standing up. "The archbishop has asked me to handle Stanley's visit and the fund-raising events…"

Stanley? Is that Stan Colt's real name- Stanley?

"… and this is Father Ve

Ve

"I'm Lieutenant McGuire," McGuire said, getting to his feet. "I command the Dignitary Protection Unit. This is Sergeant Al Nevins, who will handle the paperwork. Both of us-all of the Philadelphia police department-are determined to make Stan Colt's time in Philadelphia, to use your phrase, Mr. Ke

He sat down. lieut gerry mcguire for dignitary protection "Thank you, Captain, that's good to hear," Ke

"Wachenhut Security Services, right," Terry Davis confirmed.

"I'll have them liaise with you, Lieutenant McGuire, as soon as possible."

"Yes, sir," McGuire said. wachenhut rent-a-cops Ke

"And this gentleman?"

"My name is Payne, Mr. Ke

"I don't think I quite understand."

"We're going to provide the detectives, and Highway Patrol officers-and just about whatever else Lieutenant McGuire asks for. I'm here to get a preliminary idea of what that might be."

"You're with the police department?" Ke

"Yes, sir."

"Detective Payne, Mr. Ke

Jesus, where did that come from?

"Detective Payne?" Terry Davis asked in surprise.

"… whose real-life exploits could really serve as the basis for one of Stanley's films," the monsignor went on. "I'm delighted the police department has assigned him to this project."

Hey, I'm not assigned to this "project."

"No offense intended, certainly, Detective," Ke

I think I have just been had. And I really don't want to baby-sit a movie actor.

Matt looked at Lieutenant Gerry McGuire, who, smiling at Matt's discomfort, sarcastically gave him a hidden-behind-his -hand thumbs-up gesture. Matt returned it with a hidden-behind -his-hand gesture of his own, the index finger of his balled fist held upright. Lieutenant McGuire smiled even more broadly.

"If you'll open the folder before you," Rogers Ke

Matt opened the folder.

Wohl's going to want at least three copies of this. I can take it to the office and xerox it. Better yet, scan it into the computer, so when the inevitable changes are made to it, they won't have to be written on it, and the whole thing rexeroxed. Or I can type it into the laptop now, and skip the sca

He immediately began to type, and was finished long before Rogers Ke

Think about this, Matthew: If your life was really over when that sonofabitch Chenowith killed Susan, would you now be wondering what Vice President Davis looks like in her birthday suit? Or considering the possibilities of getting her into that condition?

Peter Wohl said, Dad said, Amy said, just about everybody – including the second-rate shrink with the bad breath they made me go see- told me that it would take time, but I would get over Susan.