Wilson cut up the Randolph exit, took Clinton south to Washington, and then turned east.

Hernandez sat at the left turn lane at the light at Wacker and Washington, the Honda in front of him, the Lexus in front of the Honda. The light changed and all three cars headed east down Washington. Just before the end of the block, the Honda turned into a parking garage. The Lexus couldn’t make the turn.

“Lost the other car,” the driver said to Hernandez as they turned into the garage, the Honda halfway up the ramp ahead of them.

“Tell them to circle the block,” Hernandez said. “Have them pull in, block the exit.”

The driver made the call.

The shooter next to Hernandez looked over; saw the boss stroking the barrel of the MP5 like he was trying to make it cum. The shooter smiled. He knew exactly how the boss felt.

CHAPTER 85

Al Din was near the Merchandise Mart when the Honda exited the Kennedy, Tokyo on his phone now, on speaker, guiding him in.

“Take a right, cross over the river on Wells. The target is eastbound on Washington. You’ll intercept in a couple of blocks.”

Al Din caught the light at Wacker, caught the next one at Lake, too. Almost enough to make him wish he believed in Allah so that he could also believe that Allah was smiling on his efforts.

Al Din stopped for a red light at Washington.

“Should have caught them on the traffic cam right at your intersection,” Tokyo said. “They turned in somewhere. Hold on.” A very long couple of seconds. “OK, I’ve got them on a security cam. Parking garage directly across from you on the right. Do you see it?”

“Yes,” al Din said.

“There’s an exit off of Wells. Turn in there.”

The light changed. Al Din accelerated through the intersection and signaled his turn into the garage.

Four cars back, Lynch cussed the jackass who double-parked, blocking traffic.

“We’re going to miss the light,” Bernstein said.

Lynch muscled the Crown Vic left, cutting off a taxi, getting a blast on the horn for that, shot ahead, cutting back to the right lane and into the intersection just as the light turned yellow and al Din’s car disappeared into the garage.

Bernstein got on the radio and called for backup.

CHAPTER 86

Wilson looped around the third floor of the garage, still full, caught the ramp up to the next level. On the fourth level, she started to see some open spots. The SUV behind them wasn’t pulling in to any of them. Shit. She had really hoped they were just looking to park.

“Got a black Explorer on our six,” she said. “Picked it up just before the exit. Still behind us.”

“Yeah,” Hardin said. “Saw that.”

“Looks like four guys in it.”

“Yeah, saw that too.”

“So I guess we shouldn’t make those lunch reservations yet.”

Hardin took out both of the 9mms he taken from Corsco’s men, held one in each hand.

“Not yet,” he said.

“Get up on their ass,” Hernandez said.

“Can’t lose them in here,” the driver said. “We hang back, let them park, hit them as they get out of the car.”

Hernandez nodded. That was the smarter play. Had to relax. Too much blood flow to his cock, he guessed. Just like being with a hot woman. The little head turning off the big one.

CHAPTER 87

Munroe had the chopper spun up and was hightailing it for the Loop. He was tracking the GPS on both Lafitpour’s and Hickman’s phones. Pretty clear they were on foot, walking north across the Loop. And neither one answering – calls going straight to voicemail.

Had to give Hardin credit. The whole west burbs thing was smoke and mirrors. Now he was crashing the deal, pushing Lafitpour into some fast meet where Hardin pulled all the strings.

“How long?” Munroe asked into his mic.

“Be downtown in thirty. Don’t know where I’m going to put this down, though.”

“Wherever I tell you,” said Munroe.

Munroe took a breath, let it out, started thinking. There was what you wanted and there was what you had, and they were almost always two different things. So Munroe started working through what he had.

The deal with Hardin was going to go through. Lafitpour would punch in the numbers and the $15 million would go wherever Hardin had him send it. Munroe was pretty sure that as soon as the money turned up wherever it was going, Hardin would have someone waiting on the other end to spread it out and make it disappear. That was the smart play and Hardin hadn’t done anything stupid yet. Munroe wasn’t going to be able to yank the chain on the transfer, pull the money back.

And, with $15 million and a twenty-minute head start, Hardin could get seriously gone.

Feds in raid jackets had been the plan for the first Hardin meet, but Munroe was hoping this to keep this one unofficial until after Hardin was dead. Guess that wasn’t going to happen. Had to do something to slow Hardin down.

Munroe called the director of the FBI – he didn’t have time to explain who he was to the field office guys in Chicago.

“What can I do for you Munroe?”

“I assume you have a rapid response team on call in Chicago?”

“Yeah.”

“Got a short clock situation here, Bill. Hickman, US attorney in Chicago; used to be one of your guys?”

“Yeah?”

“He’s being held hostage by a Nicholas Hardin and a DEA agent named Wilson.”

“This the thing we were supposed to be in on a few days back? Terrorist, drug lords, lots of other bullshit?”

“Gotten a little hairy since then, but yeah. I don’t have time to explain now, but I’m going to link you to the GPS on Hickman’s phone. Get a tactical team on that signal soonest – and I mean in like ten minutes. I’ll be there in twenty. It is imperative that Hardin and Wilson don’t get in the wind. And tell your boys these are dangerous folk. Hardin’s former scout/sniper, former Foreign Legion. Wilson’s got a mess of cartel notches on her belt, and they’ve both killed people this week.”

“You telling me you don’t want us reading them their rights?”

“You can read them. It just might be better if they can’t hear them when you do.”

“Do what I can, but you may get there before we do.”

Feebs were on their way, but them being on time was going to be a close thing. But the whole operation had officially gone sideways. Things were going to get loud and messy, which was exactly not what the big boys in DC wanted when they tabbed Munroe for this assignment. Munroe went through his mental ledger, started making calls, calling in chits, firing up the threats-and-favors apparatus. When you know you’re gonna ruffle some feathers, it’s good to have all your carrots and sticks lined up.

CHAPTER 88

Lafitpour and Hickman stepped out of stairwell and started across the sixth floor of the garage. Half empty up this far. They walked to the wall Hardin had told them to.

“We’re here,” Lafitpour said into his phone.

“Hang tight,” Hardin answered.

Al Din took his ticket from the machine, waited for the gate to go up, and then started up the ramp.

“Do you know what floor they are on?” he said to the phone.

“They just passed the cam on five,” Tokyo answered. “Only got six and the roof left.”

Al Din accelerated.

On five, Hardin started seeing more empty spots, things really thinning out at the back of the floor, toward the ramp to six. That’s why he’d told Lafitpour to meet on six. Hardin had scouted the garage a couple days earlier. This time of day, six was still mostly empty. Hardin didn’t want to go up to seven. Seven was the rooftop, no overhead cover. If somebody managed to put a long gun in play, he didn’t need to make it easy on them. Wilson cut the wheel, started up the ramp to six.