Chicago Vendetta. Don Pendleton
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that is?” Rusch asked, arching an eyebrow.
“A lead,” Johnny said.
* * *
Hillman and Rusch sat a vigilant post in their unmarked squad car in a darkened corner of a parking lot. One of them had an eye on the entrance to the grocery store at all times, determined not to miss their quarry. Parked close by in his rental was Gray, who was keeping his own sort of vigil, despite being told it was against policy to allow him on the team. They agreed to share information, but go their separate ways. Hillman and Rusch knew the private investigator wouldn’t listen, and his presence confirmed it.
“So what do you think?” Hillman asked as he looked out the passenger window at Gray’s car and sighed.
“About what?” Rusch replied, never taking her eyes from the store. “Gray?”
“Yeah.”
“I think...” She paused to lick her lips. “I think the guy’s truly looking out for our best interests while trying to find his friend’s killer. I’d be doing the same thing.”
Hillman looked at his partner askance. “Really? I got just the opposite sense after he told us about his lead but refused to give us any idea where the information came from. And how does he get information so fast?”
“I don’t know. It’s just something in my gut. Call it instinct.” Rusch looked over at Gray’s car, too. “He just seems like a straight shooter. There’s something kind of no-nonsense about him.”
“He’s a private dick,” Hillman replied. “Not one of us.”
“Hold up,” Rusch told him. “There he is.”
A thirtysomething Latino male in a leather jacket emerged. He had a canvas satchel in his grip, and his head moved as if mounted on a swivel. Rusch and Hillman remained still. Any sudden movement or attempt to obfuscate their positions inside the car now would just draw unwanted attention. The man didn’t appear to spot them, or if he had, he didn’t give any sign of it.
Hillman whipped out his cell phone and called Gray. When he answered, the detective said, “Even though you’re not supposed to be here, that’s our guy who just came out. Leather jacket and dark hair, climbing into that silver Toyota.”
* * *
Johnny listened carefully, then acknowledgd Hillman’s intel and disconnected.
Neither of the detectives had been eager to pursue his theory that a young decorated narcotics officer named Javier Esparza could be the mole. Johnny couldn’t blame them, as it didn’t make much sense to him, either. But the fact remained that Esparza had some pretty interesting facets to his personal life. For one thing he had a single younger sister with a checking account on which he was an authorized signer. Despite her unemployed status, Esparza’s sister managed to deposit five thousand in cash into the account every week. Esparza also drove a silver Toyota Avalon that wasn’t registered in his name. The car title was free and clear, and the corresponding insurance and sales agreement for the vehicle had been executed in the name of Omeco Industries, which had the earmarks of a shell corporation based on the data Johnny had received from Aaron Kurtzman at the Farm.
Johnny watched as Esparza climbed behind the wheel of his car and left the parking lot, then drummed his fingers against the steering wheel as he waited to see what Hillman and Rusch would do. Finally the lights came on and their vehicle rolled forward to tail Esparza. Johnny started the engine of his vehicle and fell into line behind the detectives, keeping a distance of a few car lengths at all times. Fortunately, they were on the back side of rush hour, so there were enough vehicles in play to make a tail possible.
* * *
“So, what do you think was in the satchel?” Hillman asked.
“It certainly wasn’t groceries,” Rusch replied with a shrug. “But if I had to guess, I’d say cash. Lots of it.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of, too,” Hillman replied. “You know, Gray could be right and Esparza is our guy after all. But maybe he had nothing to do with what happened to Mick and Iggy. Maybe he’s just on the take.”
“Good old-fashioned dirty is better?” Rusch asked in surprise.
“I’m not saying that,” Hillman said tersely, wincing as he rubbed at his stiff neck. “But I’d rather bust the guy doing something like that than think he was responsible for the deaths of fellow police officers. Frankly, this whole thing sucks. It’s not like we don’t have enough to worry about out there. We got the damn courts and press breathing down our necks and crying brutality every time we look at a perp cross-eyed.
“Now we add the recent uptick in violence, wrongful deaths that are going both ways, while we’re out here putting our asses on the line for what amounts to shitty pay. After what happened to Mick and Iggy, I just don’t know what to think anymore, Lakea. Sometimes I wonder if it would be better to just hang it up and do something else.”
“What something else?” Rusch replied with a snort. “You love being a cop, Chuck. Don’t deny it.”
“I don’t. But don’t you ever think about a change?”
The city lights flickered in her eyes as she braked for a red light and then turned her head to meet his gaze. “I do. But then I think of all the good I’m doing, and all the times that might have gone wrong if I hadn’t just happened to be in the right place at the wrong time. And I figure that’s reward enough.”
As soon as the light changed and cars began to move, Esparza abruptly crossed two lanes of traffic in the intersection to make a right-hand turn onto North Morgan Street. Several angry drivers leaned on their horns while one made a bit of a stronger gesture out the window in true Windy City fashion. There was no way for Rusch to get over, but she noticed Gray had dropped back far enough so that he could adjust.
And he did.
Johnny saw the radical maneuver Esparza pulled and instantly realized Sergeant Rusch would be unable to compensate and continue the tail. However, he had ample opportunity to get over and he did—not all the drivers in Chicago were rude, and they let him ease over when he put on his signal and wave for permission to cross in front of them. As soon as Johnny got onto Morgan, his mobile phone rang and Hillman’s name came up.
Johnny couldn’t repress a smile as he answered. “I thought I might hear from you.”
“Very funny. Do you have eyes on our guy?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.”
“I think he made us. There wasn’t any other reason for him to do that.”
“Unless he was just playing it careful,” Johnny suggested.
A long pause followed that, and then Hillman said, “Okay, you may have a point. Just keep an eye on him and stay on the phone with us. We’ll get back to you. We’re two blocks down and now turning north.”
Johnny kept one eye on the signs while trying to make sure he didn’t let their quarry out of sight. He reported, “Okay, we’re continuing north and going under some tracks. He’s signaling to make a right-hand turn.”
“All right, good,” Hillman replied. “That would be Hubbard Street he’s turning onto. So he’s now going east on Hubbard.”
“Right. He’s picking up speed now and...wait a minute.” Johnny confirmed Esparza had applied the brakes and suddenly did another right-hand turn into what looked like a broad private drive more than a street.
“I’m not sure where he’s going. He’s turning right again, and he’s now going back under the tracks. It looks like some kind of business or factory.”
“I know where you’re talking about,”