He wondered now what the plan was.
He also wondered who or what would screw it up.
He had seen the action, but he was reasonably certain no one else in the room had followed it. And if Hawes was banking on heat, who would soon comment on the heat? Anyone might. Bert Kung had already taken off his jacket and was now mopping his brow. Willis had pulled down his tie. Angelica Gomez had pulled her skirt up over her knees like a girl sitting on a park bench trying to get a breeze from the river. Who would be the first to say, "It's hot as hell in here?"
And why did Hawes want heat to begin with?
He knew that Hawes had misunderstood him. He felt somewhat like a man falsely accused of racial prejudice because of a misunderstood remark. Hawes, of course, had not been attached to the 87th at the time of the Hernandez kill. Hawes did not know that Carella had risked his life for Byrnes' son, had come very close to losing that life.
Hawes did not know how strong the bond was between Byrnes and Carella, did not know that Byrnea would gladly face a cannon if be thought it would help Steve.
But Byrnes was faced with the problem of command And using the timeless logic of generals in battle, he knew that he could not be concerned over the welfare of a single man when the lives of many other were at stake. If Virginia Dodge's single weapon were that .38, he'd have gladly sacrificed himself on its muzzle. But she also held bottle of high explosive.
And if she fired at the bottle, the squad room would go up and with it every man in the room. He owed a lot t Carella, but he could not-as commanding officer of thi squad-try a gamble which would endanger every life for a single life.
He hoped now that Hawes' plan was not a foolihardl one.
And, sourly, he thought, Any plan is a foolhardy 0fl4 with that bottle of nitro staring at us.
Bert Kung was beginning to sweat.
He almost walked over to the windows and then he remembered something.
Hadn't Cotton just walked over there to close them Hadn't he just seen Cotton … And wasn't the temperature in the room controlled b:
thermostat? Had someone raised the thermostat? Cotton Did Cotton have a plan?
Maybe, maybe not. In any case, Bert Kung would me! right down into a puddle on the wooden floor before h opened a window in the joint Curiously, he waited Profusely, he sweated.
Hal Willis was about to comment on the rising temperature in the room when he noticed that Bert KIng's shirt was stained with sweat. Their eyes locked for a moment. Kijug wiped a hand across his brow and shook perspiration to the floor.
In an instant of mute understanding, Hal Willis realized that it was Supposed to be getting hotter in the room.
He searched KIng's eyes, but there was no further clue in them.
Patiently, his underwear shorts beginning to stick to him, he wiggled on his chair and tried to make himself more comfortable.
Meyer Meyer wiped the beaded sweat from his upper
It's hot as hell in here, be thought. I wonder if anybody found my notes.
Why doesn't somebody turn down the goddam heat? he thought. He glanced over at the thermostat. Cotton Ilawes was standing near the wall, his eyes fastened to Virginia Dodge. He looked for all the world like a sentry guarding something. What the hell was he guarding?
Hey, Cotton, he thought, reach over and lower that damn thermostat, will you?
The words almost reached his tongue.
And then he wondered again if anyone had found his notes.
And, wondering this, his mind drifted away from thoughts of the heat in the room and-oddly for a man who had not been inside a synagogue for twenty years-he began to pray silently in Hebrew.
Angelica Gomez spread her legs and closed her eyes. It was very hot in the room, and with her eyes closed she imagined she was lying on a rock in the mountains with the sun beating down flatly on her browned body. In Puerto Rico, she would climb trails as old as time, trails hidden by lush tropical growth. And then she would find a hidden glade, a glade wild with ferns. And in that glade, there would be a level rock, and she would take off all her clothes and tilt her breasts to be kissed by the sun.
Idly, she wondered why there was no sun in the streets of the city.
Lazily, she kept her eyes closed and allowed the heat to surround her.
Suspended, her mind in the Caribbean, she relished the heat and hoped no one would open a window.
The telephone rang.
Seated at her command desk, her brow hung with tiny globes of perspiration, Virginia Dodge nodded to King who picked up a receiver and waited for her to folloW suit. She nodded again.
"Eightyseventh Squad, Detective Kung."
"Hello. Carella there?"
"Who's this?"
"Atchison at the lab. Where's Carella?"
"Out. Can I take a message?"
"Yeah, I suppose so. What'd you say your name was?"
"Bert Kung."
"I don't think I know you."
"What difference does it make?" Kung asked.
"I like to know who I'm dealing with.
Listen, on thi Scott kill?"
"Yeah?"
"Sam Grossman gave me some photos to study. Of th door jamb?"
"Yeah?"
"You familiar with the door jamb?"
