Hernandez wanted Hardin, but with Hernandez it was personal. And this past week had caused some serious tension with Hernandez. Corsco didn’t need that. Plus, if he gave Hardin to Hernandez, then Hernandez would owe him a favor. That Munroe guy didn’t seem like he was the favor granting sort.

Corsco called Hernandez.

“I assume you’re still looking for Hardin?”

“Yes. I want to taste that bastard’s blood.”

Jesus, thought Corsco. These Mexicans. Always with the blood tasting. “I have a man on him,” Corsco said.

“Bring him to me,” Hernandez growled into the phone.

“Can’t do that. But I’ve got a man on his tail right now, stuck in traffic on the Kennedy. Looks like Hardin’s heading downtown. My guy will stay on him as long as he can. If you can round up some troops, my guy will guide them in. What you do with Hardin is your business.”

“I will be in touch. If I get Hardin, I will not forget this.”

“A favor for a colleague,” Corsco said. “You would do as much.”

CHAPTER 83

“You have the money ready to move?” Hardin on the cell with Lafitpour. Hardin and Wilson had just cleared the accident at Lawrence, traffic starting to thin out a little.

“Yes, of course.”

“What do you need to make the transfer?”

“It only takes a phone call,” said Lafitpour. “As long as you have the account numbers and access codes.”

“OK. Hickman there?”

“Yes.”

“Put us on speaker.”

A pause, then Lafitpour, a little distant now, speakerphone voice. “We are on speaker.”

“You there, Hickman.”

“Yes,” Hickman said.

“OK gents,” said Hardin, “We’re making the deal today. Here’s how this works. I will call you with a location, and I will call you soon, so don’t step out for coffee or tie up the line. You show up, both of you, but only the both of you. I give you the rocks, you transfer the money. Then we all take a little ride until I’m sure the transaction has cleared and that nobody is trying to bust me again.”

Lafitpour chuckled. “And why, exactly, would we agree to be your hostages?”

“Hey, we could have played things nice and civil last time, remember? I wasn’t the one who queered that deal. And cut the hostage shit. This whole city is holding me hostage right now. I try to screw you on this deal, there won’t be enough room on the planet for me to hide. I’m selling the diamonds, but what I’m buying is your goodwill. Well, not yours. Hickman’s and the guys in Washington who are pulling his strings. I fuck you on this, I might as well save myself a few really uncomfortable weeks and just eat my damn gun.”

“And if I still don’t like your terms?”

“Then I have to find some new friends and some other way to keep safe. Wilson and me? I don’t think we can get $15 million for a book deal, but I bet I can get something, don’t you? And killing me is going to get a lot trickier after I’ve been on CNN blowing holes in this drugs and terrorists bullshit.”

Hardin heard Lafitpour sigh. “Excitement is rare at my age. I suppose I shall just have to treat this as an opportunity. We will do this your way.”

“OK, and don’t bother making a call and trying to scramble some assets. You don’t have time. I’d see them coming. If I see them coming and I have a clear shot at you, I take it. And then I hit the send button on my phone and reporters from the New York Times to Der Spiegel get some real interesting e-mail.”

“Some days I do despise technology,” Lafitpour said.

Tommy Porcini’s ass was getting numb, over an hour in this fucking traffic, but it made tailing the Honda pretty damn easy. He was still three cars back, but he could have sat right on their ass ever since O’Hare and they wouldn’t have thought a thing about it. Not like anybody could go anywhere.

Corsco’d called back. He was handing Hardin over to Hernandez, given Porcini’s number to Hernandez’s people. They’d been in touch. Looked like Hernandez had been over on the west side hanging in his crew’s territory. Word was he’d loaded up a couple of SUVs, was en route. Porcini was supposed to stay on Hardin’s ass until Hernandez got there.

“Al Din is on the move.” The surveillance guy talking to Lynch. They’d had eyes on al Din’s car full-time since they tracked it down.

“What’s he doing?” Lynch asked.

“Just sort of circling around the River North neighborhood right now, like he’s waiting for something.”

“OK.” Lynch waved Bernstein over. “We’re rolling.”

CHAPTER 84

Hernandez sat in the backseat of a Ford Explorer, one of his best Skull shooters next to him. One of the blacks from the West Side gang driving, a man who knew the streets, another Skull up front. Hernandez had three more shooters in a Lexus that another gangbanger was driving a couple cars ahead in the left lane. They’d cut north up some surface streets, got on the Kennedy at Fullerton headed back south. Hernandez was on the phone with Corsco’s man. He should be close – a red Cadillac CTS behind a black Honda in the right lane.

Corsco saw a red Caddy five cars up.

“Tap your brakes twice,” Hernandez said into the phone.

The brake lights on the Caddy winked.

“Hardin still in front of you?” Hernandez asked.

“One car up,” said Porcini.

“OK, we got him.” Hernandez hung up the phone.

Hernandez tapped his driver. “Get in the right lane. Call the other driver; tell him to get over, too.”

A few cars ahead, the Lexus cut into the right lane. The red Caddy pulled over into a middle lane. Hernandez’s driver cut into the vacated spot. Hernandez could see the Honda now. The Lexus was immediately in front of it. The Honda signaled a turn, getting ready to take the Randolph Street exit. The other driver was paying attention – he led the Honda up the ramp.

Hardin picked up his phone and dialed. He and Wilson were coming up on their exit. Time to get Lafitpour and Hickman moving.

“You two ready?” Hardin asked.

“Yes,” said Lafitpour.

“OK. Both of you take off your jackets. Either of you has a gun, put it on your desk and leave it there. Hickman got his phone with him?”

“Yes,” said Lafitpour.

“Have him call this number. That will be Wilson. He stays on the phone with her until we meet. You stay on with me. Don’t want you calling any friends, trying to arrange any surprises.”

Wilson’s phone rang, she answered.

“Just keep talking,” she said. A pause. “I don’t care about what asshole. Recite the fucking alphabet if you have to. Just make sure I keep hearing an open line.”

“OK,” said Hardin. “The two of you get outside – you’re taking a little walk.”

“We will lose our cell signals in the elevator,” said Lafitpour.

“Then take the stairs. There’s a parking garage at Franklin and Washington. Walk there now. Right now. Should take you ten minutes. Take the elevator to the sixth floor. Walk to the east end of the floor and stand by the wall, right in the middle. You aren’t there when I pull up, we’re done. And keep the phone by your mouth. You aren’t that interesting so you don’t need to keep talking, but I better hear you breathing.”

Hardin could hear street noises through the phone, could hear Lafitpour’s breathing picking up a little. Ten minutes meant he and Hickman had to hoof it, but Hardin didn’t want them relaxing, didn’t want them thinking. He just wanted them moving. Hardin hit the mute button on his phone. Wilson did the same.

“Hickman still there?” Hardin asked.

“Yeah,” said Wilson. “He’s saying some uncharitable things about you.”

“Looks like we might be alive for lunch,” Hardin said.

“Be able to afford a nice one if we are,” said Wilson.