Michael Harvey - The Third Rail

An image floated through my mind-Rodriguez counting the many ways I could be an asshole. I needed to play another card, and quickly.

“You know, Father, when I was a kid, I remember learning about something cal ed the seamless garment of life.”

The reference bought me a moment’s pause. His Eminence lowered himself back into his seat. I kept talking.

“The idea was to accord life the highest value in any moral argument, in determining what is fundamental y right and wrong. If you made life the trump card in ordering your priorities, you would find it to be an unerring compass, one that would always lead you down the right path.”

Gianni’s dark lashes fluttered. “I’m familiar with the concept, Mr. Kel y.”

“You helped to champion it, Your Eminence. It was the first major plank in your career as a theologian.”

Gianni waited.

“Life is what’s at stake here, Father. We’re talking about real people dying. Potential y, a lot of people. But the number isn’t even important, is it? If there’s even one life at risk, that life must be weighed against your rules concerning the privacy of any records. And that life must prevail. Isn’t that the calculus I’m asking you to make?”

Gianni tilted his head and looked at me as if I’d just walked into the room. “You studied under the Jesuits?”

“Maybe.”

The cardinal laughed. “I knew it. Very wel, Mr. Kel y. The church wil help if it can. But we must use tremendous discretion in handling these records.”

“Discretion’s my middle name, Father.”

Gianni made a gesture I assumed to be hopeful. We both stood up and began to walk.

“Maybe we can talk specifics once we have a handle on the threat?” I said.

“And when might that be?”

“I’d hope by day’s end.”

The cardinal stopped. “But you suspect this man is targeting the archdiocese because of the abuse scandal?”

“I said the scandal was a logical avenue to pursue, Father.”

“But not a theory you necessarily subscribe to?”

“I don’t subscribe to any single theory right now. This man is attacking the entire city, not just the church. And I think there is more at play here than we know. Maybe a lot more.”

Gianni looked at me closely, but didn’t respond. I glanced out the window. There were now three news vans and two live trucks parked outside the mansion.

“Maybe I could sneak out a side entrance?” I said.

The cardinal raised his eyebrows. “If only we al had it so easy, Mr. Kel y.”

He led me to a service door that backed out onto an al ey. I walked around to the front and found my car a half block down the street. My cel phone buzzed just as I slipped inside.

“Hubert, what do you have?”

“Where are you?” The kid seemed a little breathless.

“Just left the cardinal’s residence. Why?”

“I took a closer look at the maps and letter you sent me. Then I talked to Detective Rodriguez and got a little more information on the originals.”

“What’s up, Hubert?”

“The street map this guy sent to the reporter. It was downloaded from MapQuest.”

“So what?”

“I got a couple of pals who do a lot of work with them. MapQuest logs al its location requests, keeps records of al the computer IP addresses.”

“In English?”

“The map sent to the Daily Herald was requested by a computer located at 1555 North State Parkway.”

I glanced up as the massive front door to the mansion creaked open and stopped.

“You’re tel ing me that map came from the cardinal’s residence?”

“I’m tel ing you that’s what MapQuest’s records show.”

“What do you think?”

“The guy we’re dealing with is too sharp to make that mistake. I think it’s a setup. Someone routed their request through the cardinal’s IP address.”

“Which means someone’s sending us a message. I gotta go, Hubert.”

I clicked off and scanned the block, looking for a shooter. The door to the residence swung open the rest of the way. Giovanni Cardinal Gianni stepped out onto a smal portico and spread his arms wide. Cameras jockeyed for position and the elite of Chicago’s media boiled at Gianni’s feet. I scanned a second time. Then I reached for the door handle. That’s when the cel phone rang, except this time it wasn’t my phone. And the ringing was coming from underneath my front seat.

I found a prepaid unit taped under the driver’s seat. It lit up red and blue in my hand every time it buzzed, almost like the thing was laughing at me, which it probably was.

“Yeah.”

“Funny how things work, isn’t it?”

I felt a bal of ice form in my stomach and a flicker somewhere deep inside my brain. “What do you want?”

“Look at the cardinal. Bloody great fucking hypocrite.”

My eyes slid over to the mansion. Gianni was stil on the front stoop, trying to hold the media hounds at bay. I thought the cardinal looked a bit chagrined. I wondered if he had any divine inkling as to just how bad his day might become.

“Want to see him executed, Kel y?” The electronic voice purred over the line. “Just say the word.”

I searched one more time. Lawns, tree line, cars. Then I opened the car door.

“No,” the voice said.

I froze, eased the door shut, and leaned back against the seat.

“Cardinal doesn’t die today, Kel y. So let’s drive. West toward the Kennedy. And no fucking around. That is, unless you do want to see a bul et in him.”

I turned the engine over, gripped the wheel, and headed toward the highway.

“I was worried you might not find the phone.”

“My lucky day,” I said.

“The camera is taped to your door seam, by the floor on the passenger’s side.”

I glanced over and saw the thin run of wire and a pinhole lens staring at me. I pul ed the camera free and threw it into the backseat.

“Know what life’s about, Kel y?”

“Why don’t we cut the bul shit and boil this thing down.”

“Is that the way you want it?”

“That’s exactly how I want it. Leave everyone else out. City, church, feds, everyone.”

“Underneath the other seat you’l find a flash drive. Play it and then see how you feel.”

The line disconnected. I pul ed down a dead-end street, popped my flashers, and reached under the passenger’s seat. The flash drive was black with a piece of masking tape on it. A single word was written on the tape: RACHEL.

Someone is going to die.

I sat in my car and felt that certainty pump through my veins. I took a minute to distil the violence into a more refined form and tucked it away until I needed it. Then I watched the video recorded on the flash drive a second time. Then a third. I picked up my cel phone and tried to cal Jim Doherty. No answer. I clicked off and cal ed Hubert. His voice mail picked up. My phone indicated a second cal was coming in. It was Rodriguez.

“You done with Gianni?”

“He’s got Rachel.”

“Hold on a second.” There was a pause and Rodriguez came back on the line. “Go ahead.”

“He planted a cel phone in my car. Cal ed to tel me about a flash drive he had planted there as wel. She’s on it, Vince. Some sort of video. Looks like she’s beat up pretty bad.”

“You never talked to her this morning?”

“No. She was reading from a script this guy wrote. Said I needed to do exactly as he instructed. Then she read off two addresses. One was Hubert’s. The other was Jim Doherty’s.”

“The cop who gave you the old files?”

“Yeah. Said I should pick one and not worry about the other.”

“You get hold of the kid?”