had passed through his forehead. Schaeffer heard a woman's voice call from upstairs, 'Paul? What was that? Did you knock something over?'
Schaeffer had to make a decision. Going through the house, first killing the woman and then maybe Castiglione's kids, would take time and do nothing for him. It was too late to preserve the quiet. He had to get to the third brother as quickly as he could. He turned, stepped out the kitchen door, and closed it again. Beyond the door he could hear the alarm, an electronic imitation of a bell ringing. He ran hard toward the car, got in, and drove off. The first time he had to stop at a traffic signal, he retrieved the shotgun from the trunk and reloaded it, then propped it on the passenger seat beside him.
It took him fifteen minutes to reach Salvatore Castiglione's house, and he could see he had not made it in time. Paul Castiglione's wife must have come downstairs, seen her husband's body, and started dialing the phone. The house was a suburban one-story ranch-style house set on a large lawn with a pine grove behind it and along the sides to form a narrow privacy barrier at the edges of the property. As he drove past, he could see that in spite of the fact that it was nearly four A.M., there were already lights on in the house and the shapes of men moving across the front windows. A big black car with tinted windows sat in the driveway with its motor idling. It had to be Pugliese's men, here to get Sal out of danger. Schaeffer kept going, heading his car to the north toward Milwaukee.
25
Elizabeth's flight landed at Midway at four P.M. She was traveling with the two Justice Department investigators Morris had temporarily assigned to her. Morris had chosen Manoletti and Irwin, both of them men about forty years old, with at least a dozen years of field experience. They inspired confidence, but they weren't very good companions for her. They were businesslike and distant. They considered themselves 'sworn' peace officers, like cops and FBI agents. The fact that everyone in the Justice Department took the same oath to preserve and defend the Constitution from all enemies, foreign or domestic, meant nothing. The gun she was carrying at this moment didn't make her one of them either. It only made them more nervous about her. She wasn't entirely satisfied with them. In spite of the fact that Morris knew she wanted to do some undercover surveillance, he'd picked men who looked like cops. They both had that triangular torso that men who lifted weights often achieved, so the seams of their sport coats looked strained. They looked as though they'd gotten their hair cut on a military base.
There was never a way for them to forget she was on the other side of the department, the side with lawyers and administrators and analysts-she had become all three-and she was several levels above them on a parallel branch of the hierarchy. Worse, she was a woman. In the twenty years she'd been in Justice, women had become common, but there were still men who seemed determined to maintain a distance. Sometimes she had suspected that their aloofness was a strain of puritanical discipline left over from an earlier time. A woman, if she looked like a woman, was a temptation and a threat to their integrity. They probably knew that Elizabeth posed no threat to their chastity, but her presence still made them vulnerable to rumors and suspicions.
They seemed not to dislike her, but they weren't volunteering any personal thoughts or observations about anything. It was as though they were pretending that they had no thoughts or opinions that hadn't come from a manual.
The three waited their turn to get off the plane, inching forward in single file like the rest of the passengers. Then they rode the escalators down to get their luggage. Manoletti was the first to get his suitcase, so he went out of the baggage area, by prearrangement, to get an early place in the cab line. When Elizabeth stepped out with Irwin, Manoletti already had the cab waiting with its trunk and back door open.
At the hotel they went to their respective rooms without much consultation. Elizabeth had learned many years ago to open a suitcase immediately and hang up anything that could hang. As soon as she had her suitcase up on the folding rack, she called home and left the kids a message. 'I wanted to let you guys know I'm on the ground in Chicago and I'm in my hotel, the Hyatt. When you two get home, if you feel like calling me, please do. I have my phone on. And here's the hotel number.' She read it off the sticker on the telephone, then hung up. She turned on the television set and found a news program. She half listened for a weather report.
'…savage attack at the home of Joseph Castiglione, in which two men and a woman were killed by shotgun blasts. This was followed by-'
She dialed the number of Irwin's BlackBerry with her left hand. 'Turn on your TV,' she said.
'We've got it on,' he said. She could hear the voice of a different newscaster in the background.
'We've got to meet about this. Call me in a few minutes.'
Elizabeth dialed the number of her office and Geoffrey answered, 'Justice Department, Organized Crime.'
'Geoff, it's me. There's something about Joseph Castiglione on the news. Did something happen while we were in the air?'
'We're trying to sort it out. Two of the Castiglione brothers are dead-Joe and Paul. There are also four men described as Castiglione associates dead at a motel south of Chicago.'
'I can't believe it,' she said. 'What does he think he's doing?'
Geoffrey ignored the question. 'Special Agent Holman from the FBI called on your personal line when you were still on the plane. I gave him your cell number. I hope that's okay.'
'Of course. I thought he already had it. He hasn't called me yet. Do you have IDs for the bodies?'
'They haven't been released, but the FBI had them, and they e-mailed the list to you.'
'Is there a Vincent Pugliese?'
'No. The names all sound like stops on an Italian train schedule, but he wasn't one of them.'
'Good work, Geoff. I've got Holman's number on my phone, so I'll try to get back to him.'
'I'll be here for a while, and I'll relay whatever comes in to you.'
'Thanks. If nothing hits by seven, go home. The next shift can take over. Just tell them I'm here and I'm interested.'
'I'll do that.'
'Got to go.' She hung up and took the call that was coming in.
'Waring.'
'Hi, Elizabeth. This is John Holman. I hope I didn't interrupt your dinner or anything. If so, I can-' His voice sounded different. It was openly friendly, as though she had passed some very big test.
'No, you're not interrupting. I'm in Chicago right now, and I expect dinner isn't any time soon.'
'How did you get word so fast?'
'The short, honest answer is that it was a coincidence. I was flying here looking into something else, and this seems to have happened while we were in the air. I just got to the airport Hyatt and turned on the TV.'
'Our people there are on it, of course, and I'll let them know you're in town. If you want anything, just call the Chicago office. Or stop by. It's on West Roosevelt. They'll know who you are. I'm flying in this evening. When you get this figured out, give me a call.'
'That's flattering, but I don't expect it will be me who figures this out.'
'We'll see. I'll call when I'm there.'
She sat for a second, staring at her phone. This was the way Justice and the FBI were supposed to work, but sometimes didn't. She suspected that the difference wasn't a change in the institutional mentalities. It was just a matter of proving to someone on the other team that you could be trusted.
There was a loud knock on the door of her room. She got up and went to the peephole to look out. She could see Irwin and Manoletti, so she opened the door. 'Come on in.'
The two came inside, and she pointed to the two chairs at the small table near the window. They sat, and she turned the desk chair to face them. 'Lots of news, and it's got to make for lots of changes. You know what I wanted to accomplish here. As of right now, things look a lot more difficult.'
'We seem to have arrived at the beginning of a war,' Manoletti said. 'If he's as wily as you think he is, he won't want to be anywhere near that.'
'I don't think that's what it is,' she said. 'It's not what I would have predicted he'd do, but I think this is still
