Eight-thirty. He smiled. Hydra would strike in half an hour.
The game he had been waiting ten years to play was about to begin.
In the hazy light of an almost full moon, gargoyles and harpies and strange mythical creatures lurked in the spires of the Gothic buildings forming one of the University of Chicago's many quadrangles. Staring up at them, Naomi Chance felt a sudden thrust of fear, as if they were harbingers of doom. The medieval beasts seemed to be taunting her. She quickly shook it off and turned up the collar of her coat against the brisk wind that funnelled between the buildings, assaulting her as she left the library and started across the quad towards the parking lot a block away. The monthly meeting of the Association of Legal Secretaries had been particularly dull, but she had presided with her usual elan and kept the proceedings moving as briskly as possible.
As she approached 57th Street, she saw the glow of a cigarette among the trees and shrubs near the street. A moment later the butt arced to the ground. A man was huddled in the shadows, his hands buried in his pockets. A car was parked by the kerb ten or twelve feet away.
She gripped the small can of Mace she always kept handy in her pocket and subconsciously quickened her pace. Normally, she would not have noticed him, but tonight was different. Tonight she saw omens everywhere.
'Who's that?' she demanded when he said it, increasing the pace.
'Hold up a minute, please.'
She glared into the darkness as a large, bulky man moved away from the shrubs. He was tall and muscular, a powerful black man, his features obscured by the dark. 'What the hell do you want?' Naomi demanded, and took her hand out of her pocket. 'Keep your distance, this is a can of Mace.'
'Whoa,' the big man said, and stopped in his tracks, fumbling in his coat pocket. 'Man, they warned me you were rough and ready,' he said in a deep voice, and laughed. He held out his hand and flipped open his wallet. A gold badge twinkled in the streetlights.
'Detective Zack Lyde, Chicago PD,' he said. 'My boss, Shock Johnson, loaned us out to the DA and the DA says keep an eye on you. So that's just what my partner and I are doin', Ms Chance, keepin' an eye on you.'
Naomi's breath came out in a rush. 'You scared the shit out of me, son,' she said.
'I'll tell you, that can of Mace gave my pulse a little kick, too. Look, why not let us drive you home? We need to clear your apartment when we get there and then just kinda, you know…'
'Keep an eye on me?' she said, finishing the sentence for him.
'Yeah.' He said, chuckling, in his deep, gruff voice. 'My pard can follow us in your car. I'd feel a lot better that way.'
'Why don't you just drive with me and let your pard follow us,' she suggested.
'Fair enough,' Lyde said. As they walked towards his unmarked police car, Naomi saw Judge Harry Shoat leaving the library after his weekly graduate-school seminar. His driver trotted up to him as Shoat started down the walk.
'How about Judge Shoat over there? Watching him, too?' Naomi asked.
'Hell, he just laughed at us,' Lyde said. 'Says Mr Vail looks for spooks under his bed before he goes to sleep.'
'You mean you don't?' she said with a grin, and followed her protector to the car to fill his partner in on the plan.
A block away Jefferson Hicks, a city patrolman assigned as Shoat's driver and bodyguard, rushed up to him and took his briefcase.
'How'd it go, Your Honour?' he asked.
'Excellent, as always,' Shoat said, exuding self-assurance. 'Although for the life of me, I don't see how some of those oafs ever hope to pass the bar.'
'Yes, sir,' said the driver.
Hicks had a black belt in karate and had attended a special course in antiterrorism. He had been assigned to Shoat for four months, ever since an irate taxpayer, who felt he had been treated unjustly in court, had shot and nearly killed one of Shoat's peers. Hicks belonged to the city; the sedan belonged to the judge.
Once inside the four-door Mercedes, Shoat reached into the pocket in back of the shotgun seat, took out a bottle of Napoleon brandy and a
