here for the black case you took from Doherty’s house. Hand it over and this discussion is at an end. Persist with al the bul shit and we move to another phase.”
I looked up at the Terminator and smiled. Behind him was a closet. Inside it, on the top shelf, the black case they were looking for. I returned my gaze to Danielson. “I don’t know anything about any case.”
Danielson rol ed his eyes toward Nolan, who glanced at Wilson. The mayor touched a finger to his lips.
“Gentlemen, let me have a minute.”
Danielson didn’t like the idea. Nolan took him aside and talked in his ear. Danielson relented and held up five fingers. “Five minutes, Mr. Mayor.”
He and Nolan picked up their coats and took a walk. The Terminator fol owed. I noticed he dragged his left foot and hoped it hurt like hel. Wilson waited until the door had closed before speaking. “What do you want, Kel y?”
“How do you know I want anything?”
“How many times have we talked where you didn’t want something?”
“I get the feeling you know as little about these guys as I do.”
“Homeland Security?”
I nodded. The mayor picked up Maggie again and stroked the top of her head. The pup’s eyes immediately began to close.
“You know how many times I get cal ed into meetings with these stiffs?” Wilson said. “First time it happened, three months after 9/11, we went into ful fucking pucker. They sat around, bul shitting for a couple of hours, never gave us a sniff as to what was going on. Poison in the water? Crop dust downtown with some evil-sounding shit? Suitcase nuke in the Hancock? Who the fuck knows? And then you know what I figured out? Who the fuck cares.”
“I don’t believe that, Mr. Mayor.”
Wilson held up a hand. “Hear me out. Of course I care. My point is, what can we do? Someone decides to blow themselves up in the Water Tower this afternoon, what’s Chicago PD going to do? Nothing except clear the street so we can get the ambulances in. We don’t have the expertise, we don’t have the manpower, and we sure as hel don’t get the heads-up from the feds in enough time to do anything even if we did have any of the other shit. So what’s my point, right?”
I nodded.
“My point is one I learned a long time ago. When Homeland Security shows up, we smile and go along. Listen to their happy horseshit, express appropriate concern, and send them on their way. If they catch the bad guy, great.”
“And if not?”
“That’s the beauty of it. So far there hasn’t been any ‘if not.’ At least not in this town, knock on fucking wood. But, real y, that’s al we can do. That and manage the threat.”
CHAPTER 55
The wind kicked a heavy boot against my windows. It was coming up on 7:00 a.m., and I hadn’t been to bed. I sipped some coffee and looked outside. A sparrow stared back, black eyes flicking over mine, feathers ruffling against the elements. I moved my eyes down to the folder on my desk. Inside it was everything I’d need for the day’s business. On top of the file was my gun. I slipped the gun into its holster and looked through the file one more time.
I’d given Homeland Security its black case and whatever tale it told. Then I went to work, scraping together what I needed from the files I had, the Internet, and a few phone cal s. The mayor had cal ed around eleven, and again at midnight. He’d given me the bits and pieces I’d asked for. Hadn’t asked too many questions. Hadn’t had anyone else sit in on our conversations. The mayor was too smart for that. I flipped the folder shut and looked back out the window. The sparrow was stil there, stil clinging to its perch. I took another sip of coffee. The bird lifted its wings and was gone, leaving nothing behind but a bare branch, shivering in the wind. My phone rang. Rodriguez’s cel number flashed up on cal er ID. It was the third time he’d cal ed that morning. I ignored it and walked into my bedroom, Maggie close on my heels. Her crate was sitting beside the bed, along with a bag of food and her toys. I sat down, the pup in my lap. She immediately rol ed over for a bel y rub. I obliged.
“You be a good girl,” I said and picked her up. She licked my face. I held her for a moment. Then I put her into her crate and slid the latch over. I loaded the pup, her food, and the toys into my car and headed south on Lake Shore Drive. The hospital had cal ed, asking for anything from home that might make Rachel feel more secure, more relaxed. It was a short list, one that didn’t include me. I pul ed up to Northwestern Memorial. Hazel Wisdom was waiting in the lobby.
“I could use a smoke,” she said. I nodded and we stepped outside.
“It’s just for a couple of days, Michael.”
“It’s okay,” I said.
Maggie scratched at the bars. She didn’t like the crate. I couldn’t blame her.
“She’s a cute dog,” Hazel said.
“Yeah, she’s pretty easy. Just feed her when she’s hungry, walk her when she has to go, and let her do whatever she wants the rest of the time, and you should have no problems.”
“Sounds like a few doctors I know.”
“I bet.”
“Rachel’s getting better, Michael.”
“Like you said, there’s nothing I can do but wait.” I finished my cigarette and flipped the butt into the wind. “So that’s what I’m gonna do.”
Hazel gave me a hug and I handed the crate over. The pup stared at me as she disappeared into the hospital. I wanted to wave, but felt like an idiot. Instead, I got back in my car, the file folder on the front seat beside me.
CHAPTER 56
An hour later, I pul ed into an industrial park in the 700 block of South Jefferson. The sky was heavy with the promise of rain. The lot, empty. I tugged a black knit hat low over my eyes and walked three blocks with my head down. The cops had taken down the tape from Maria Jackson’s murder, but I took a quick look around anyway.
The CTA access door was unlocked this time. A single bulb did yeoman’s work, painting a swath of white against rough wal s and the run of stairs. I spiraled down until I hit bottom. Then I stepped out, for the second time, into Chicago’s subway system. The light down here was brighter, it seemed, than the night I’d found Jackson’s body. I walked in the opposite direction, across a switchback and alongside an old spur of track. A half mile in, I came to a curve. To my left was a smal door, with the word MAINTENANCE stenciled in black on a beige wal. That’s where I found her, sitting on a beat-up bench.
“Michael, you found it.”
“Sorry, I’m late. I got tied up.”
I moved a little closer. Katherine Lawson was wearing a black leather coat and kept her hands in her pockets. Behind her was a row of old lockers, most with their doors missing.
“What do you think of the place?” She withdrew a gloved hand and swung it around the tiny room. “Maria Jackson’s body was found about a hundred yards down the tracks from where you came in. They found this little shed while they were working the scene.”
“That’s nice, Katherine. Why did you want to meet me here?”
I had wanted to set up my own meeting with the FBI agent and struggled with time and place. Then she’d cal ed late last night and did the heavy lifting for me.
“You mean why not a drink like normal people?” Her laugh sounded flat and never reached her eyes. “There’s
