“You.”
“I can talk to a drug dealer’s wife without you backing me up.”
“It’s foolish, Ellis.”
“Call me from Dubai.”
It was nearly eight p.m. when Shafer shipped Wells the equipment he’d promised. He drove home, booked the night’s last flight to O’Hare. He packed a garment bag with his best blue suit. Then went to the safe in his basement to grab the FBI identification that he wasn’t supposed to have and the 9-millimeter he never used. He had just opened the safe when he heard footsteps on the stairs. He turned—
And saw his wife. Who wasn’t smiling. “What are you doing?”
“I thought tonight was your book club.”
“Tomorrow.” She was standing at the foot of the stairs, holding Costco bags she hadn’t even put down. He went to her and kissed her and took the groceries.
“What are you doing?” she said again.
“I have to go to Chicago. Be back tomorrow.”
Normally that would have been enough for her, but this time she folded her arms and looked at the safe. “Why do you need that?”
“I’m not even gonna load it.”
“You’re carrying a gun with no bullets.”
“It’s a prop.”
“Ellis, you’re too old for this. You think it’s cute, these little adventures—”
“I’ll be fine. I have to go. Flight leaves in an hour.”
“You’re behaving like a
He couldn’t even meet her eyes. “Forget it, will you.”
“At least load it. If you’re gonna carry it, load it.”
THE NEXT MORNING Shafer parked his rental car, a dark blue Chevy Malibu, at a hydrant outside a tidy brick house on the Near North Side, practically in the shadow of the John Hancock Tower. David Miller had done well for himself. Real estate records showed he’d paid eight hundred and forty-five thousand dollars for the place five years before, an all-cash deal. Shafer slipped an FBI placard on the dash, smoothed out his suit, tucked his pistol in his shoulder holster.
A television played faintly upstairs. Shafer knocked heavily on the front door, peeking through a frosted window. The door opened to reveal a heavy black man wearing a White Sox T-shirt and jeans. Asha Miller was keeping busy.
The guy folded his arms across his gut, which was nearly as big as Shafer’s body. “Help you?” His voice was high, almost Tyson-esque. He didn’t look like he wanted to be particularly helpful.
“I’m with the FBI.” Shafer flashed his badge. “I’d like to talk to Mrs. Miller.”
“Who is it?” a woman yelled from upstairs, over the
“Man claiming to be an FBI agent. By himself, though.” To Shafer: “You boys usually travel in pairs. Like roaches.”
“I’m here about Daood Maktani,” Shafer shouted up the stairs.
“Nobody here by that name,” the man said.
The television muted. The man opened the door and Shafer glimpsed Asha Miller walking down the stairs, a pretty black woman, but tending toward fat. Oprah had ruined a whole generation, Shafer thought.
“Shoo, Bernard,” she said.
“Look at him. He look like an FBI agent to you?”
“He knows that name, he is FBI. Federal something anyway. Now shoo.”
Bernard trudged down the hall. “I’ll make coffee,” he said over his shoulder. Keeping his dignity. Asha took his place at the door and looked at Shafer. She had merry eyes. Or maybe she was just amused by the sight of him in his blue suit.
“What’s your name, Mr. FBI?”
“Ellis Shafer. May I come in?”
“You may not. Unless you have a warrant. First thing Daood taught me.”
“Daood went to Dubai a month ago.”
She didn’t ask how he knew.
“He hasn’t come back.”
“That a question?”
“When was the last time you heard from him?”
She sighed. “Somebody arrest him again?”
“I don’t know. But I think he’s in trouble. And you didn’t answer me.”
“He’s always in trouble, always gets out. The last I heard from him was in London.”
“Two weeks ago.”
“Sounds about right. He said something had happened and he had to go back to Dubai.”
“Do you know how he made his money?”
“This is how it went. We were together when he got arrested the first time, and I stuck by him, and he liked that. Didn’t expect it, I think. Couple years later, we got married. Maybe ’cause I told him I was leaving him if he didn’t. Maybe so he could be sure I couldn’t testify against him. Maybe he just liked the idea of getting married. It was an excuse for a party and he loves parties. But I was never under any illusions that I was his only woman. That wasn’t his style.”
“So you knew?”
“Please. Man never had a job in his life, and look at this house. But I figured he was playing both sides. He was too lucky for too long in terms of not getting arrested. Nobody’s that lucky. Plus every so often, I’d see cars at that same hydrant you parked at. American cars with tinted windows and two men in suits inside. Never came to the house, never knocked on the door, just sat and watched.”
“Letting you know they knew.”
“Something like that. And also that’s just how David is. Playing both sides, he thinks that’s style.”
“I understand.”
She smiled. “Bet you grew up just that way. So, yes, I knew that he wasn’t any Boy Scout, but I never asked any details.”
“Anything change the last year or so?”
She shifted her weight and some of her spirit creaked out. “You out to get him?”
“No. Truth? I think he got into something deep and I might be able to help.”
She looked him over, weighing his sincerity. Finally, she nodded. “I think you’re telling at least half the truth. But it don’t matter, because I don’t know anything. Just recently he seemed more stressed out. Drinking more, too. But I don’t know why.”
“He ever mention anyone in particular from the FBI, the DEA, the CIA? Anyone leaning on him?”
She shook her head.
“Could he have left anything important on a computer here?”
“Not here. He was careful about that.”
“You have a phone number for him? E-mail?”
She gave him both. Shafer was happy to hear that the cell wasn’t the one he’d already found. But he sensed she was keeping something back. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“When I said I hadn’t heard from him since London. That’s true, I mean actually hearing his voice. But about a week ago, he e-mailed. Said he was in Pakistan and might be there awhile, and he didn’t know when he’d be back and he wanted to tell me he loved me. Wasn’t like him to write that. Like he wanted me to understand that he was in deep.”
“Thank you. You get anything from him, please let me know.” Shafer handed her his card.
“Long as you promise to do the same.” She lowered her voice. “I know what you’re thinking about Bernard, but if you look close, you’ll see he’s just a big old queen who keeps me company when David’s not here. My
