Rodriguez put his car in gear and slipped into the morning rush. “What’s up with the old files?”
“You don’t buy it?”
“I think there’s more than just a hunch behind whatever it is you’re thinking.”
I shrugged. “Don’t give me too much credit. Like I said, the feds got al the conventional angles covered.”
“And you’re just rol ing the dice?”
“From my talk with the mayor, sounds like that’s what he wants.”
Rodriguez pul ed up to a red light. “What the mayor wants, Kel y, is no more bodies and a bul et in the head of whoever the fuck is behind this.”
The light turned green and Rodriguez pushed through the intersection. “So your old man was on the train with you?”
“That’s right.”
“You want to talk about it?”
“Not real y.”
Rodriguez grunted and took a left on Ashland. We drove in silence for a few blocks.
“Where we headed?” I said.
“I told you. Lawson wants us to meet her at the Southport L.”
“Are they opening it up today?”
“Wilson insisted. Business as usual.”
I turned on the radio. The first words I heard were “CTA sniper.” I flipped to another channel and found a woman talking about the CTA “war zone.” I flipped again. CNN was promoting its special, “A City under Siege.” Wolf Blitzer would broadcast live from the scene of the sniper shooting downtown. I turned off the radio. “Business as usual, huh?”
“You know the rules. If the mayor says the sky is purple and the earth is flat, hel, let’s make the best of it. By the way, what happened to the kid’s face?”
“Got beat up,” I said.
Rodriguez glanced over. “You want me to check it out?”
“What do you think?”
“I can touch base with Hate Crimes.”
“I’m guessing their plate’s ful.”
“You got that right. I’l take a run through their open files. See if anything looks familiar.” Rodriguez took a right onto Belmont and then a left onto Southport. The L tracks loomed overhead. “Here we are.”
The detective slotted his Crown Vic at an angle to the curb, ass end taking up almost half the street. I climbed out of the car and noticed a guy in a Beemer behind us. He looked like he was going to rol down the window and start something. Then Rodriguez popped his blue flashers and slipped out the driver’s side. The guy swal owed the half dozen or so “fuck you”s he had lined up and maneuvered his car around us. Rodriguez took no notice.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s go.”
The detective walked toward the L station. I fol owed. Life could be good in Chicago, especial y when you carried a badge and a gun.