“Hold on a sec,” Munroe said. He opened his laptop, brought the park up on Google Earth. Big place. Got a few ways in and out, more than a few if you’re on foot. Trees, some hills it looked like, plenty of stuff to screw with sightlines, but he’d need boots on the ground to get the topography. Public as hell.
And Hardin would know the park. Wilson would know it. The park and everything around it. Might know some people, too.
One more thing caught his eye. A building on the west edge of the park. Munroe switched to street view. Ten stories maybe? Apartments, it looked like.
Munroe knew he’d been brought in on this whole deal because DC wanted subtle. After the cluster fuck in Chicago last year, the last thing they wanted was another firefight. Munroe was still hoping to avoid that, but he was going to need boots on the ground. Boot with guns. This thing went right, then it would come down to one shot. If it went south, though, well…
“OK,” Munroe said. “Get an SOG team out there, have them eyeball the place, give me their best guesses on scenarios and solutions. And find out about that apartment building on the west side. Find me a way to get somebody on the roof.”
CHAPTER 73
Starshak was happy. The waitress play worked. Took about an hour to get a good spread out of the tech guys, another hour for Lynch to get her in to eyeball it, but she picked out al Din right off, no hesitation. Recognized him, recognized his clothes, said she saw him by the elevators right before she found Stein’s body.
Starshak knew eyewitness stuff was crap half the time. But this was solid gold. Cute little All-American girl like that up on the stand? Solid gold.
So now he had a BOLO out on al Din, had the good picture out on the wire, and the tech guys were running it against the rest of this mess. Having a good morning so far.
Then he saw Hickman walking off across the squad toward his office. Fuck. “Lynch, Bernstein,” Starshak yelled across the room.
They looked up, followed his eyes, saw Hickman.
“Fuck,” Lynch said. He and Bernstein headed for Starshak’s office.
Hickman wanted them to pull the BOLO on al Din. “I thought I’d made it clear you were supposed to back off on this,” Hickman said.
“You didn’t make shit clear to me,” Starshak said. “You told Jablonski to lay off Hardin and Wilson, he told me. You see me running anything on Hardin or Wilson? But we like al Din for…” A pause, Starshak turned to Bernstein, “ah jeeze, what’s the count again, Bernstein?”
“Nine,” Bernstein said.
“Nine homicides. Being cops and all, we thought maybe we’d take a shot a clearing those.”
Hickman nodded. “I understand your frustration, Captain, but there are larger issues in play here. This connection between the cartels and Al Qaeda presents a unique opportunity, and it’s something we have to approach with a little tactical discretion.”
“Unique opportunity for whom?” said Bernstein.
“Pardon me?” Hickman asked.
“You think we’re buying all this shit?” Lynch said. “This whole drug cartel and terrorist pile you keep shoveling at us? We know Hernandez has a beef with Hardin over his brother. And we think maybe Hardin’s got some diamonds he stole from some bad guys over in Africa. What we don’t see is any evidence that the one thing’s got anything to do with the other. But you keep telling us there’s this grand conspiracy between Al Qaeda and the cartel. So what Bernstein’s asking, I think, is we see an opportunity for you – we’re just wondering how it works out for anybody else.”
Hickman smiled. “It works out for everybody who’s on the team, Detective. I should think you’d be pleased with the idea of taking the gloves off with the drug lords and street gangs for a change.”
“Just raises all those line-drawing questions,” Bernstein said. “Slippery slopes and all that. But, what the hell. It’s just the Constitution, right?”
“Oh my,” said Hickman. “Playing the Constitution card already? I suppose I should go home and polish my jackboots. You really worried if we dot every I and cross every t for a guy like Hernandez?”
“Yeah, and the cameras all over town are nothing to worry about either, not if you’re not up to anything,” said Lynch. “Except we find out the whole system is out there on pay-per-view and Hernandez is one of the guys with a subscription.”
Hickman got up, buttoned his jacket. “Gentlemen, I didn’t come here to argue the point with you. I just thought I would do you the courtesy of informing you in person. Given the sensitive national security issues involved, the Stein case, the South Shore murders, the Downers Grove shootings, the Ringwald murders and anything having to do with Hardin, Wilson or Hernandez, all of that is all being taken over by a federal task force under my personal direction. Of course, we still need and value Chicago PD assistance, and your contributions on these matters to date will be both officially recognized and richly rewarded. But henceforward, you are to act in this matter only on my orders.”
“Practiced that speech all the way over here, didn’t you?” Starshak said.
“This has been cleared all the way up through the commissioner. But feel free to check if you want to rock the boat.” Hickman smiled.
“Think I’ll skip the boat rocking,” Bernstein said. “I feel a little sea sick already.”
Hickman left.
“You heard the man,” Starshak said. “Pretty much clears your desks for you, so go find something to do with yourselves.”
“Cubs are playing this afternoon,” Lynch said. “Want us to get up to Addison, direct traffic or something?”
Starshak shook his head. “Hickman said the Stein case, the South Shore thing, Downers Grove, Ringwald, and anything having to do with Hardin, Wilson, or Hernandez. I was thinking the Membe Saturday case. I didn’t hear that mentioned. Did you hear that mentioned?”
“No, come to think of it,” Bernstein said, smiling.
“You got anybody you like for that?” Starshak asked.
“Yeah, actually I do,” Lynch said.
“So go get him. But quietly. No BOLOs. And wipe the damn smile off your face, Bernstein. You look like a girl.”
CHAPTER 74
The tech guy called Lynch. He’d found a clean shot of al Din coming out of a Starbucks on Madison a couple days back. Lynch and Bernstein went down to check it out.
“Guy’s good,” the tech guy said. “Knows where the cameras are. Watch this series. He’s coming out the door, has that hat down, his head angled to the side, no way we get a match. As he clears that frame, he turns, walking sort of backwards, like he’s eyeballing the window display there, so the exterior cam gets nothing. But he misses this couple coming up on him, the guy is on his phone, not looking, he and al Din bump pretty hard, al Din’s hat comes off and he has to face front. That’s where we got the hit.”
“He looks pissed,” Lynch said.
“Can we trace him from that location?” asks Bernstein.
The tech guy nodded. “Yeah, because now I know that hat.” Punches some keys, pulling up street shots, al Din heading north on Michigan, head down, hat low, no angle on his face. “He grabs a cab at Congress.”
“Get a number on the cab?” Lynch asked.
Tech guy shook his head. “Bad angle. Plus it’s rush hour, so we got a gaggle of pedestrians in the shot waiting for the light to change. Blocks the view.”
“How about a time stamp?” Lynch asked.
“Sure,” the guy said.
Lynch looked at Bernstein. Might be enough.
CHAPTER 75
Lynch called the cab company, gave them the time and location of the pick-up and they tracked down the driver. Guy named Jackson. Dispatch told him he was on his way in from O’Hare, headed for the Drake. Lynch and Bernstein drove over, met him out front.