“You got any ideas on how to fix this, I’m open to suggestions.”

“Find her. Take her in. Make Arturo give her protective witness status.”

“Arturo ain’t gonna get within ten miles of this. You know that.” Ed looked out the passenger window. “Maybe she should turn a rat loose in his office. Might get his attention then.”

CHAPTER 30

8:20 PM

August 12

The paramedics, Scott and Vince, weren’t in a big hurry. They pulled up behind the Streets and Sans truck and took their time getting their bags ready, before sauntering up the sidewalk and ringing the buzzer. 911 had told them that the patient wasn’t conscious, but was breathing steadily. That meant that there was no point in rushing. Some Polack kid was waiting impatiently in the foyer. He practically dragged them into the crappy little basement apartment.

All the lights were on. The patient, Don, another fucking Polack, was lying between the coffee table and the couch. He looked like he was just sleeping off a bad drunk.

Vince snapped on some purple surgical gloves and checked Don’s vital signs. Scott sighed heavily and cornered Tommy. “You guys live here together?”

“What? Uh, no. No.” Tommy caught the paramedic’s leer.

“It’s not like that. We work together.”

“Okay, fine. Sure. Whatever. Your name?”

“Tommy Krazinsky.”

Vince spoke up. “What kind of drugs were you guys taking tonight?”

“What?” Tommy asked. “Drugs? No, no. Don never did any drugs.”

“Look, I’m trying to find out what’s wrong with your friend. It might mean the difference between life and death here. Now, what was your friend on?”

“I don’t know what to tell you. As far as I know, he never took anything stronger than beer and aspirin.”

There was a knock, and a Chicago cop stood in the front doorway. The cop was white, pushing forty. His mustache was in better shape than his body. “Who called it in?”

“I did.” Tommy stepped forward.

The cop pulled out his notebook. “Name?” he asked, clicking his pen like he was cocking his handgun. Tommy gave his name and a statement. Scott poked around Don’s apartment, looking for drugs, but came up empty. He held his hands up to the cop.

The cop walked over and got a better look at Don. Writing in his notebook, the cop said aloud, “Possible heart attack. Older white male. Drug angle looks less likely.”

Vince finally decided that he didn’t know what the hell was wrong with the patient, so they went back to the ambulance and brought back a collapsible gurney.

The kid, Tommy, asked if he could ride with them to the hospital.

Scott and Vince looked to the cop.

The cop asked the paramedics, “Where you taking him?”

Scott said, “Northwestern is closest.”

The cop nodded, said to Tommy, “He’ll be at Northwestern. You can drive your own vehicle slowly and safely there, and ask for him in the emergency room.” He headed to his car, tilting his head, speaking in a bored tone into the mike on his shoulder.

The paramedics loaded Don into the ambulance. Vince slammed the door shut and got in on the passenger side. Scott hit the lights and sirens and headed for Milwaukee Avenue.

The supervisor’s voice came out of the phone, abrupt and out of breath. “Tommy? That you?”

“Yeah,” he said as he clenched the phone against his shoulder, trying to buckle the seat belt with one hand and steer with the other. He picked up speed, following the ambulance.

“You know that Lee is looking for you guys? Is Don with you?”

“No. He’s in the ambulance. He’s sick.”

“Sick? Sick how?”

“I don’t know. He’s unconscious.”

There was a pause while the supervisor talked with somebody else. He came back on. “You say he’s in an ambulance?”

“Yeah. They’re taking him to the hospital right now.”

“Which ambulance is this? What’s the company?”

“I can’t tell. A red and green one.” Tommy weaved around vehicles that had pulled over for the ambulance, and were just starting to pull back into their lane again.

“Is there a number or a name on the side?”

“I don’t know. They’re taking him to Northwestern. Call there.”

“Is there a number or a name on the side?”

Tommy hit SPEAKERPHONE and threw the phone on the dash. “I. Don’t. Know,” he yelled while scooting through an intersection against the light, trying to keep up with the ambulance. Other drivers hit their horns. To them, he was just another asshole trying to steal the road in the ambulance’s wake.

Tommy followed as it turned left onto Division and crossed over the North Branch of the Chicago River. His phone was quiet for a minute. He heard the supervisor’s voice, talking to someone else. “You got it? Okay. Fine. Better this way. Absolutely.” Tommy hit his horn at drivers impatient to pull back into traffic, ignoring their rearview mirrors and his flashing yellow lights.

Tommy’s phone flashed CALL ENDED.

The ambulance’s brakes flickered uncertainly, and turned south on LaSalle. It seemed to Tommy they went slower, even though this was a four-lane street. The ambulance was far more cautious when it came to crossing streets. Tommy found it was easy to catch up. When they passed Chicago Ave, Tommy was confused. The ambulance continued going south on LaSalle, leaving Northwestern farther and farther behind.

He relaxed when he realized they were taking Don to Cook County General. Maybe they’d radioed ahead. Maybe they’d been told that Cook County General had better equipment for Don, with a team of specialists, ready and waiting for Don. Hell, maybe Cook County General dealt with this kind of thing everyday.

Maybe it was all going to be okay.

Sam pulled over to the curb and waved a homeless guy over.

The guy, a man in his thirties with wild hair, waved off imaginary insects. “Wasn’t doing nothin’, officer.”

“What makes you think I’m an officer? Might be I’m just a tourist, trying to find my hotel.”

“Whatever you says, officer.”

Sam unwrapped more gum. “You seen Qween around?”

“Queen?” The man cocked his head, listening to phantom radio transmissions. “Of England?”

“Don’t fuck with us, pal,” Ed said, surprising Sam. Ed was usually happy playing the good cop. “I don’t have much patience tonight. Got half a mind to come out and beat the living shit out of you for resisting arrest.”

“Tell you what,” Sam said, thinking it might be his turn to play good cop. “I got ten bucks if your memory improves.”

The homeless man cocked his head the other direction, as if receiving conflicting transmissions. “Well, now. Maybe I know, maybe I don’t. Let’s see the money.”

Sam pulled out his wallet, found a ten-dollar bill. “You know who I’m talking about, right?”

The man looked offended. “Shit. Ever’body knows Qween.” He took the ten. “Ain’t seen her in two days.”

“Know where she stays?”

The man shook his head. “Used to have a spot on Lower Wacker. Up and took everything somewheres else. Don’t know where.”

“You know why?”

“Have to ask her.”

“You’re not exactly earning your money here,” Sam said.

The man shrugged. “Whatchu want? I don’t know.”

Ed leaned over, fixed the man with his dead eyes. “What’s the story with the rats?”

The man didn’t blink, didn’t flinch, didn’t hesitate. “The rats? They sick, man. Ever’body knows that. You stay away from ’em. Ever’body knows that.”

CHAPTER 31

8:56 PM

August 12

Tommy lost sight of the ambulance when it zoomed into the emergency driveway on Wacker Drive, where only medical or rescue vehicles were allowed. He pulled around the block and parked in the underground garage. He couldn’t find the stairs and had to take the elevator instead.