“City Hall’s a pretty crazy place sometimes.”

“Truth, my man, truth. But yeah, that rat that got loose. Bet that’s never happened before.”

“I wouldn’t know too much about that.”

“Well, what would you know?” Ed asked. Ed and Sam lengthened their strides and got ahead of him just for a brief second, then slowed down, pinning Lee between them.

Disbelief flickered across Lee’s face for just a split second, echoing his thoughts, but he got control and smiled again. “Like I said, I don’t know much. I got a call, saying a rodent was loose in the building. I deferred it to my supervisors and I have full confidence that they handled the situation as needed. Now, if you gentlemen don’t mind”—he checked his watch—“I’m afraid I’m late for a meeting.”

Ed and Sam blocked the door. Ed scraped his thumbnail through the stubble on his chin and said, “One quick question. See, we got a call earlier, saying that one of the guys, one of your employees, one of your employees who dealt with that rat yesterday, well, we got a call saying that he’s been admitted to this hospital this evening. Problem is, we can’t seem to find him.”

Lee said, “I’m sorry, I don’t know how I can help you. I don’t know anything about it.” He nodded back toward the nurses’ station. “You really should ask the hospital.”

Sam gave a smile of his own. It was more like the expression on a corpse of a primitive man who had been caught in an iceberg for a few thousand years. “Can I ask, what exactly is your business here tonight?”

Lee blinked. “I don’t see how that is any of your concern.” “We’re detectives.” Behind them, Sam heard the elevator doors open. “Everything related to our case is our concern, Mr. Shea.” Sam still didn’t want to turn around, still wanted to keep Lee pinned. He heard at least three, four men behind him.

Ed’s right hand fell. It was now a full half second closer to his revolver.

Lee noticed this; his expression went blank, unreadable.

“Gentlemen,” a harsh, brittle voice called out behind them.

“Federal law maintains than anyone within a restricted area will surrender identification immediately.”

“You haven’t answered my question,” Ed said to Lee and didn’t move.

Lee shrugged. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid I don’t even know which employee responded to that call. Now, if you will excuse me, I am sure these gentlemen would like a word with you. Maybe, if you play nice, they’ll extend their professional courtesy and assist you with your case. Good night.” He gave a slight bow and turned away.

Sam glanced over his shoulder and saw four soldiers waiting.

Qween heard the cruiser well before the spotlight danced across her part of the shore. She had plenty of time to simply slide a little lower, hidden in a little alcove formed by a tumble of concrete slabs that had been tossed along the edge of Lake Michigan to stop the waves from tearing out any parts of the park along Lake Shore Drive.

She listened to the cops drive past, along the bike path, and enjoyed her own private view of Lake Michigan at night. The moon was behind her, off to the right, so she could see stars, something she couldn’t see from any of her hideouts downtown. Once in a while a feeling took hold, and she got to missing taking a long look at the night sky, so when she found a bottle, she would stash the cart, and spend the night two miles north, hiding out by the golf course.

The wind had died, and the air was growing hotter and stickier. She stretched out on the slab and listened to the water as it leisurely lapped at all the concrete and broken glass, hoping for a hint of wind. She closed her eyes for a moment.

A sound grew out across the lake, a droning storm of violence. Qween wanted to ignore it, wanted to pretend that it was part of her dreams. Eventually, though, she sat up and squinted at the horizon.

The turmoil took shape. Six or seven helicopters raced across the water, dropping in from the northeast. She counted at least three big fat ones, and four or five thin surrounding choppers. They roared overhead, low enough that she could see the outlines of guns or missiles or whatever the hell they were, and screamed across the golf course, passing over a nearly empty Lake Shore Drive, and climbed over the apartment buildings.

Fourteen seconds later, the helicopters crossed the Chicago River.

Qween settled back in and stared for a while at the seemingly endless stretch of water. She finished her bottle and struggled to her feet. She replaced the cap and stowed the empty bottle safely under her poncho. A lot of people would have been tempted to just toss the bottle in the lake, and while she had to admit the idea held a certain appeal, she knew better. She might be homeless, but that was no excuse to disrespect the environment.

She crawled over the concrete slabs until she reached the grass of the golf course. She paused a moment, catching her breath. The lights of downtown looked the same as always, but she knew better. Something in her city was cracking; some sort of cancer was seething under the surface, something that threatened her home.

She rolled the kinks out of her shoulders, scratched an itch under the Viking helmet, and headed south, moving parallel to the bike path, following the helicopters.

CHAPTER 33

11:56 PM

August 12

Deep in the tunnel, Lee leaned against the hood of his Mercedes and hit the button to make his watch glow. Fuck. Kimmy was going to give him hell later, guaranfuckingteed. He was supposed to take her out to some restaurant with an unintelligible name that all the papers had been raving about. Didn’t look like that was going to happen anytime soon this evening. And he couldn’t call her, because there was no reception in the tunnel.

She was such exquisite eye candy that he’d taken to pulling her in close when the cameras were around, even the stupid kid, but he still didn’t know if he was going to keep her around for the long term or not. She had a body that wouldn’t quit, and had even started wearing the handcuffs that he liked in bed, but goddamn, she could be one hell of a cunt sometimes.

As soon as he left the hospital, he’d called his uncle. Phil audibly winced when Lee told him the detective’s names.

“Look, those guys are fuckers,” Phil had said. “Two pissed-off drunks. They’ve been with the department enough years that they’ve got some clout. You go up against them, it’s expensive. You’ll win, sure. But it costs. You want my opinion? It’s not worth it. These guys, they’ve been known to hold grudges for years. I’m telling you, treat ’em like a hooker with herpes. Steer well clear.”

“Understood.”

“So. No loose ends then? Nothing that can connect you with this trouble?”

“Hell, no.”

“Are you positive? Think carefully before you answer.”

“I don’t see how.”

“So there are loose ends.”

“No. Dammit, no.”

“You sure?”

“Shit.” Lee rubbed his face. “Fine. I’ll take care of it.”

“You better.” Phil hung up.

Lee called a guy he knew out in Elgin, named Robert Earl Bailey, a guy with certain skills. Robert Earl didn’t have much of a chin, just a gentle bump from his mouth on down to his Adam’s apple. His eyes didn’t play well together, they kept threatening to find separate things interesting. Despite looking like he was a step away from assisted living, he’d worked at a Wal-Mart, a Best Buy, a fireworks factory, a gun store, a gun range, and a law enforcement and surveillance supply warehouse. He was a licensed transporter of dangerous materials, and had driven for Lee several times before.

He also knew more about the cleansing effects of fire than anyone else Lee knew. Lee had used these skills to collect insurance on a house he had been renting out in the suburbs. Robert Earl, who preferred people use his full first and middle names, had started replacing the floor and left a mixture of solvents and oily rags in the corner overnight and left the concoction to ferment and do all the work. The house had been empty, and no one had noticed until it was too late. The fire had gutted the house before the fire department had even been called.