“Most of it. His father was a Kenyan national, immigrated during the Mau Mau business – seems his name was on somebody’s chop-chop list. Settled in Chicago, went into social services, got pretty political during the whole civil rights deal. Real pain in the ass for the Hurleys. He wasn’t one of the Panthers, more in the work-inside-the-system crowd, but he sure as hell played footsie with them. He was real wired in with King and the SCLC people during their fair-housing shindig in Chicago in ’66. Got roughed up pretty good during one of their marches, some kind of back injury, never came all the way back from it. Our Darius enlisted in the Marines in1968, eighteenth birthday. His old man died in ’71.”
“The same year as Lynch’s father.”
“Same month.”
“And Cunningham is a contemporary of Lynch’s?”
“Same age? Give or take.”
“Colonel, I assume that, in addition to addressing the Fisher situation, you would like to provide an alternative explanation for the killings so as to divert an investigation?”
“Ideally, yeah. But I’ll settle for Fisher in a body bag.”
“Don’t you see, Colonel? Lynch is seeking to avenge his father. Yet four other men, black men, also innocent by legal standards, died that night. Given Cunningham’s race and your talent for adjusting history, it should not be difficult to establish that Cunningham is also seeking to avenge a murder – if not his father’s then some other connection to the radicals killed in the raid. Given his father’s history, that should not prove overly difficult.”
Weaver turned and looked at Snyder for a long moment. “And Cunningham is one of the few guys in town with the skill set to have done these church killings.”
“Exactly,” Snyder said.
“Blame the whole thing on the nigger with the gun?”
“It is the American way, Colonel.”
The plane landed at O’Hare and taxied to a hangar used by the local Air Force Reserve unit. As the team unloaded, Weaver pulled aside four of his new recruits. He had to admit Clarke had gone all out, cashed in some heavy markers. These guys were on loan from Mossad.
Weaver handed a couple of files to Uri, the team leader. “Got a special job for you four. I know you don’t have much background on this whole situation, but we had a command breakdown a couple days ago. Two of our people went rogue. They still think we’re on the same side, and I want them to keep thinking that right up until you take them out. They’ve got tac support from us – money, comm. We can use the credit cards to track them and the phones to GPS em. Paravola’ll get you what you need for that. I want them off the board by tonight. Pictures, background, it’s all in the files.”
“They any good?”
“Damn good.”
The Israeli smiled. “So are we.”
CHAPTER 44 – CHICAGO
“Young Lynch, after all these years, finally you honor me,” said Paddy Wang, standing behind his desk in his dark, intensely ornate office. The young Asian woman who had ushered Lynch in backed out, bowing. A tough-looking young guy in the black suit of Wang’s people stood next to the desk, eyeballing Lynch.
“Something I needed to run past you, pretty sensitive. I thought you might be able to offer some guidance,” said Lynch. “Be better if we talked alone.”
Wang turned, said something in Chinese. The man walked out past Lynch, walking closer to him than he had to, radiating threat. Wang waved toward one of the chairs in front of the desk.
Wang, sitting down, chuckled at his aide’s behavior. “To be so young and with so much need to prove oneself. Is that a blessing or a curse?”
“Probably both, like everything else,” said Lynch.
Wang laughed. “Are you sure you’re not Confucian?”
“Just don’t tell the Pope.”
“I have not yet met the new Pope, but I shall keep your secret when I do,” said Wang. “So, what concerns you, young Lynch?”
“I never know what you already know, Paddy, so I usually just figure everything,” said Lynch. “You know I’m working on these sniper shootings?”
“I have heard,” said Wang.
“The thing is, a pattern may be emerging.”
“The religious involvement?”
“A historical pattern. A potential relationship with the murder of the mayor’s father.”
“This I had not heard. How disturbing. There is evidence of this?”
“Nothing direct. Riordan’s father, of course, was very involved, helping to identify the Black Panther wannabes. The widow Marslovak? Her husband worked very closely with Stefanski at the time.”
“Ah, the man that the blacks killed along with Hurley.”
“Right. So what’s concerning me is that these shootings – so far, we have two – both have this tie back to figures associated with the killings. Clearly, the shooter has some kind of agenda, possibly a pretty powerful psychological agenda. If his target profile really is driven off that event, then the mayor may be on his list – the mayor or others close to him.”
“I understand your concern. But why come to me?”
“Come on, Paddy. I go through channels with this, it’s on the news by the weekend. I know how the Hurleys are about family. I don’t need that aggravation.”
“And it does involve your father,” said Wang. “You may be in danger too, young Lynch.”
“I thought about that. Won’t be the first time a cop had somebody come after him. I’m taking precautions.”
“I am glad. And the mayor will be as well. The Hurleys have always felt indebted to your family.”
“Anyway, I figured you’d know who to get word to and how to get it there. I solve crimes, I don’t create dirty laundry.”
“I appreciate your sensitivity, young Lynch.”
“I was also wondering if there was anything you could add that might shed some light. Any other potential targets? The mayor we got. Riordan’s sister, Eddie Marslovak we got. Stefanski or Riley have any relatives we should watch out for?”
“Alderman Riley is a nephew, of course, and he has a family. Sadly, Riley’s son died very young, and his wife is long dead. Stefanski was a bachelor.”
“Heard he sowed his share of wild oats, though. Anything ever come of that?”
“So long ago, young Lynch. Certainly nothing that I recall.”
“OK, well get the word to whomever, and let me know if there’s anything I need to watch.”
“I shall, young Lynch.” Wang rising from behind the desk to show Lynch out. “And now, of course, you must attend the Connemara Ball.”
“Come on, Paddy, you ever going to give up on that?”
“It is the algebra of favors. You have asked for my intervention. Only for the good of my friends, granted. But now I ask that you and your striking new companion grace my festivities tonight. I must insist.”
CHAPTER 45 – CHICAGO
Uri, team leader for Weaver’s lend-lease Israelis, sat in the rented Ford watching the blips for Ferguson’s and Chen’s phones on the nav application that Paravola had uploaded onto his phone. They were booked into adjoining rooms at the Palmer House on State Street. Chen was in her room, or her phone was anyway, and she was online. Paravola was working on hacking her feed, but she was doing some kind of non-standard encryption, backing up what InterGov already had. Paranoid little bitch. Weaver said they were good.
Ferguson had been out since the team arrived, GPS from his phone bouncing around the south side. But now it looked like he was headed back to the hotel. So the Israeli waited. Better to take them both at once.
Uri watched the side mirror, saw Ferguson coming down Wabash on foot. Must have parked in the garage up the street, keeping his transportation separate, not wanting to rely on the valet. Uri let Ferguson pass, let him get to the intersection. Ferguson was stuck, waiting to cross the street, waiting for the light to change. Uri got ready to move, just waiting for a bus to pass the car, give him a little cover.