Lynch decided that, if the guy wanted to kill him, he could have just popped him in the parking lot instead of saying hello. That, and what he’d said so far matched up with what Lynch had heard from Cunningham. And it wasn’t a bad time to make a new friend. Lynch put his gun away.

“The powerful part?” Lynch asked. “Let me run a name past you, you tell me if it fits. Hastings Clarke.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Yeah, OK, Jesus has more clout, but Clarke is up there.”

“He’s in this?”

Lynch nodded. “Long story, but this all goes back to a local clusterfuck in 1971. It’s how Clarke got his start, got his Senate seat.”

Jenks was quiet for a while, then “You still in this? What I hear on the news, they’ve handed the whole deal to the Feds, lotta noise about how maybe they can’t trust Chicago PD on this thing.”

“I’m not on the books, but I’m still in it.”

“You got any assets?”

Lynch thinking for a moment, then deciding what the fuck, his neck couldn’t be out any further.

“Couple people that used to work with this Fisher. They’ve been on this for a while now, trying to take Fisher out on the QT. You happen to hear about a big firefight downstate, a week or so back?”

“Anybody gets popped with a long gun, I take an interest. I saw that, I thought it smelled funny.”

“That was Fisher setting up his old team to buy himself some breathing room. Head of that group is this guy Weaver.”

“Tech Weaver? I know him. Nasty son of a bitch.”

“One of his guys, Ferguson, was on-site for the shootout. Didn’t like the way it played out. He ratted out Weaver who, I guess, was getting a little far outside the lines even for this sort of thing. Weaver got canned, and this Ferguson got put in charge. Ferguson’s walking back to his hotel here two days ago, and four Israelis tried to punch his ticket.”

“Sounds like Weaver got his job back.”

“And I bet I know from whom.”

“So you’re with this Ferguson?”

“Yeah, him and some chick named Chen.”

“Little Chinese sociopath?”

“That’s her. You know her too?”

“Scares the shit out of me. OK, here’s how I can help. Bag in the back, it’s got a radar detector in it. We’re working on this radar thing, and I figure if we’ve got one, then somebody we don’t like is going to have one someday. So I do a little tinkering on my own, completely off the books at this point, and gin this puppy up. They get my units in place and turn them on, this is gonna tell you where they’re at. Also, got one of the old audio-only Boomerang units. Won’t give us the detail the new ones do, but when somebody starts shooting, it will get us close, ten meters or so, depending. And it’s passive – no radar, so there’s no way to track it.”

“That’s helpful.”

CHAPTER 61 – CHICAGO

Back at the house, Lynch made the introductions. Now Lynch, Ferguson, Chen, and Jenks sat around the dining room table looking at the same map Weaver’s team had been looking at, coming to most of the same conclusions. Decided the best place to be was on top of the taller building directly across from the church. Gave them a shot at any place Weaver’s people might set up on the west side of Sheridan.

“We’re going to be out-gunned,” said Ferguson. “Once the shit starts flying we got zero time for confusion. So here is how we designate locations. Church is zero. South is negative, north is positive. First building south is negative one, second is negative two, etcetera. Floor, if you have it, is the second digit. East side of Sheridan starts with E, west side with W. So if you see something three doors north on the second floor on the west side, it’s west postive thirty-two, if it’s south, then west negative thirty-two. Got it?”

Everybody nodded.

“So study the damn map. Get every location down cold.”

More nods.

“Now,” Ferguson said, “timing. How long is it going to take you to spot those radar units, Jenks?”

“Once they turn them on, less than a minute.”

“They likely to have them on ahead of time? Give us a chance to get sighted in early?”

Jenks shook his head. “These are prototypes. Run off a battery. And one of the bugs we’re trying to work out is the system has a tendency to lock up if you leave it running too long. They got the same intel we do. You gotta figure they’ll have eyes in the church. I figure they’ll spool em up once Manning gets in the confessional.”

“Should give you enough time,” Ferguson said. “So, once Fisher takes his shot, first thing we do is take out the radar units. You sure they gotta be outside?”

“Have to be. Just be sure to hit the damn thing. We’re gonna bump up the processor in the production models to get better speed, but right now, you got like half a second after you shoot before it spits out your location. If we take a shot at these and miss, all we’ll be doing is painting a big bull’s eye on our asses.”

“You hit yours, I’ll hit mine,” Ferguson said. “Figure there’s gonna be at least one shooter with each of the units, so we take them next. Your acoustic unit’s gonna give us a fix on Fisher?”

“Gonna get us real close. It will spit out a solution to my handheld.”

Ferguson stopped a minute, thinking. “Weaver’s gonna have an entry team ready to roll on Fisher’s location. Van, panel truck, something like that. They’ll have to pack Cunningham in – you figure one of our body boxes, Chen?”

“Most likely,” said Chen.

“Body box?” asked Lynch.

“Covert restraint device,” said Chen. “It looks like a standard shipping container. Inside, it has restraint attachments and a short-term oxygen supply. It’s soundproof.”

“Chen’ll know what to look for. They’ll have to have it on a dolly, so that’s one guy with his hands busy. Figure two, maybe three more. Flag’s up at this point. Whatever they do to Fisher after he fires, it’s not going to be quiet. They’ll be going in fast and hard.”

“You and Jenks take the stationary positions. Take out the radar units, take out Fisher if Weaver’s people don’t. Lynch and I will stay mobile. When they move with Cunningham, we’ll deal with them,” said Chen.

The group was silent for a minute. “Best we can do,” said Ferguson. “Gonna be a close thing.”

Everybody was in bed, Lynch in his old room. Same room he’d been in when he heard his mother screaming at the news of his father’s death. These shooters Weaver’d had trucked in that Ferguson kept talking about taking out. How much did they actually know? Probably thought this was a legit deal. Probably thought they were on the right side. At least some of them. And what about Manning? Just let her walk into a bullet? Fisher remembered his mother’s scream, the sound of it, like her soul ripping. Wondered what kids would be listening to what mothers tomorrow, learning that someone was never coming home? Been wondering that the last couple of days, asking himself how to stop it.

Lynch picked up his cell, called Wang.

“Pacific Rim Services,” answered a flat, accentless voice.

“I need to talk to Paddy Wang.”

“I’m afraid you must have the wrong number, sir.”

“No, I don’t. Get Wang. Tell him it’s the private face of power.”

Some dead air on the other end, then Wang.

“Young Lynch,” he said. “Calling about tomorrow, no doubt.”

Forty-five minutes later, Lynch was standing in the same office on the fifth floor of City Hall where Hastings Clarke had stood thirty-seven years earlier. And David Hurley III was looking out the same window his grandfather had.

“Grandpa hated that statue,” said Hurley.

“The Picasso?” Lynch said.

“Yeah. Called it the flying monkey, and a few other things. But my dad loved it, so I’m told.”

“Had to be hard not knowing him.”

“Let’s cut the shit, Lynch. My dad was a faggot. Only reason I’m even alive was he needed a beard and he could act straight enough to get her pregnant. And your dad found out. Now they’re both dead and here we are, better than forty years down the road, still trying to clean up the mess.”