Terry Mooney thinks that when the AG runs again, he is gonna spend most of his time out in Belchertown and Clinton telling everybody that we got the whole crime thing under control now, on account of they elected him and he hired Terry Mooney. The AG does not believe this, but he has got Terry Mooney believing it and that is enough to give me a case of piles, I can tell you that.”

Sweeney began to laugh.

“Shut up,” Roscommon said. “You think this is funny, you wise little prick? Listen up, because you won’t when you get through.

“Mooney can read,” Roscommon said. “I know it’s hard to believe, but he can. You would’ve thought a man that reads as well as he does would’ve learned something about judgment, but he didn’t and there’s nothing we can do about that, either.

“What that little turd has done,” Roscommon said, “is somehow he persuaded the newspapers to bring him copies every morning, and he also watches the television every night and apparently takes in a lot of what is said. So he goes to the AG and he says to him, ‘There’re people that’re burning buildings down in Boston.’”

“No shit,” Sweeney said.

“ ‘And furthermore,’ says Mooney, ‘they are doing it for money.’”

“Goodness gracious,” Sweeney said.

“Heavens to Betsy,” Carbone said.

“Who would’ve dreamed of it?” Roscommon said. “I’m telling you guys, this kid’s as sharp as a tack. There’s no fooling him.

“ ‘Now,’ says the genius Mooney, ‘here is what you should do: you should set up a special outfit that doesn’t do a goddamned thing in the world except run around and catch guys that play with matches. And you should put me in charge of it and give me every single cop in the world that isn’t off guarding the President or the Pope and never mind all that simple-minded shit about catching people that’re looting the banks, and then make an announcement about how you’re gonna stand up for the rights of all the poor people that live in the buildings where the fires start, and that will make you golden.