I got up at a little after nine, found Maggie’s leash, and took a walk. A dark seal of clouds pressed in off the lake, bottling up the city in a jar of shiny glass. I leashed the pup outside Intelligentsia, grabbed a coffee, and pulled out the binder Ellen Brazile had given me on CDA.
The first few chapters laid out the basics of black biology. I flipped to the middle and found a section called “Smart Clothing.” As an offshoot to their research, CDA had developed something called nanofibers-essentially carbon nanotube molecules woven into the fabric of clothing. According to the binder, nanofibers added less than an ounce of weight to any garment and rendered it virtually bulletproof. The fibers also monitored the wearer’s vital signs and were capable of holding and releasing small amounts of stimulants and antibiotics directly into the bloodstream. For a soldier freshly shot on the battlefield, pretty handy.
I took a sip of coffee and turned the page. The next chapter talked about piezoelectric nanofibers capable of storing kinetic energy generated by the human body. When woven into a shirt or pair of pants, they turned the garment into a portable battery pack, charging up a cell phone, radio, PDA-anything you might carry in your pocket.
I thought that was pretty cool as well. I also thought the word “piezoelectric” gave me a headache. So I put the binder away, and watched a good-looking woman put cream and sugar in her coffee. Then I pulled out my cell-noting how pedestrian my pockets suddenly seemed-and dialed Rita Alvarez’s number.
“Michael?”
“Rita. How are you?”
“I’m fine. What’s up?”
“You tell me.”
She didn’t respond.
“You talk to your boyfriend?”
“I talk to him all the time.”
“You talk to him about last night? About the address you gave me?”
“You know I did, Michael. I had no choice.”
“Did you know Lee was peddling dope?”
“Christ, no. All I knew about Lee was what I told you. He was acting as a middleman on the medical supply contracts.”
“Why was Lee talking to you?”
“He was thinking about talking. Seemed to me like he might have a score to settle with someone, but I couldn’t say for sure. I told him I’d keep his name out of any story.”
“Who do you think killed him?” I said.
“You really need to ask?”
“The Fours?”
“If he was selling dope, I’d say that’s a good bet.”
“Nothing to do with your story?”
“I doubt it.” A pause. “I know this sounds selfish, but did you find anything that might help on that?”
“On your story?”
“Yes.” Her voice was soaked in guilt, which made it that much easier to forget I hadn’t told her about the cellar full of body bags.
“Lee was dead when I got there, Rita. Sorry. By the way, you and Vince need to start talking to each other about your work.”
“Thanks, Michael.”
“No problem.” I looked up as the front door to Intelligentsia creaked open. Another good-looking woman walked in. This one, I knew.
“Rita, I need to call you back.”
“Why? What’s up?”
“Nothing.”
“Is it about my story?”
“Gotta go, Rita.”
“Not a word to anyone downtown.”
“Good-bye, Rita.”
“Michael.”
“Good-bye.”
I clicked off. Rachel Swenson slipped into the seat beside me.
“I went by your place,” she said, “but there was no answer. Saw Mags tied up out front.”
We both looked out the front window. Maggie was huddled against the side of the building, tail sucked between her legs.
“She’s scared of the weather,” I said. Rachel nodded and made a soft sound in her throat. The pup was our common ground. Our surrogate child. The only safe patch in the shifting terrain of a relationship.
“I thought you’d be in court today,” I said, my voice easing.
“I had an early morning conference call.”
“You want a coffee?”
“We need to talk.”
“What is it?”
Rachel glanced around the shop. It was mostly empty, but her voice dropped anyway. “Late last night, Homeland requested an ex parte order allowing them to take control of the National Guard in the event of a health emergency on Chicago’s West Side.” A pause. “This morning, they withdrew it.”
“And you think I know something about this?”
“I already know about the lightbulbs. I know about the subway. And I know you got called into something yesterday. Something you thought might be heavy.”
A double burst of lightning split the sky into shards of purple and white. Maggie lay down on the pavement, curling herself into a tight ball and tucking her nose between her paws. She kept one eye fixed on us.
“We’d better get her,” Rachel said.
“In a minute. You ever heard of CDA Labs?”
“What does CDA have to do with the government’s petition?”
“You’ve heard of them?”
“I know who they are, yes.”
“How?”
“I didn’t come here to answer your questions, Michael.”
“It’s important.”
“Isn’t it always?” Her voice mocked my own, and, for a moment, I saw her, clothes torn, face bruised, tied up in an abandoned Cabrini-Green high-rise, wondering if the shotgun pointed her way was loaded. Then there was nothing, save the creaking wreckage of our relationship and the knowledge there was little I could do to fix it.
“The government withdrew its petition, Rach. If there was a problem, it’s been taken care of.”
“Not necessarily.”
“What does that mean?”
She folded her hands together, stared at her crossed thumbs, and drew a cleansing breath.
“Five years ago, George W. issued an executive order giving the feds specific power over the Guard in the case of a national emergency. From what I understand, one of the geniuses in Justice realized this morning they could mobilize in Chicago without any action from the courts.”
“Can they?”
“There might be some constitutional issues, but probably.”
My phone rattled on the table. I held up a finger and checked the caller ID. “I gotta take this.”
I stepped outside and gentled Maggie as I picked up the call. Molly Carrolton didn’t bother with the formalities.
“Where are you?” she said.
“Just got some coffee. Why?”
“We need you back at CDA.”
“What’s going on?”
“Things are escalating.”
The first volley of thunder cracked and rolled overhead. The pup shivered under my hand. Inside the shop, Rachel had gotten herself a cup of tea. She was staring at me through the glass as she added milk and sugar.
“Where’s Ellen?” I said.
Silence.
“Molly?”
“Get down here. Before they come get you.”
“Who are ‘they’?” I said, but the line was dead.
I flipped the phone shut as Rachel walked out of the coffee shop.
“I’ve gotta go,” I said.
“Your case?”
“One of them. Listen, I’d like to talk about this. Let me give you a call.”
“So there is a connection to what you’re doing?”
“Let me call you later. We can grab dinner or something.”
She took a sip of her tea. “You’re not going to be able to play them, Michael.”
“Play who?”
“Not like you do everyone else.”
“Rach… ”
“It just won’t work. Not with them.”
“Dinner, tonight. I’ll call you.”
Rachel scratched Maggie behind the ears and left me standing on the sidewalk. As I arrived back at my apartment, the first spit of rain began to fall.