Marcus Sakey - The Blade Itself

“Let me guess. Your father found it.”

Danny nodded. “He was stern, strict, and I thought he’d beat me blue. Instead, he sat me down and tried to explain why it was wrong. Said that you had to earn things. That a man was measured by the way he acted, not what he had.” He shook his head. “As he’s talking, I’m thinking about how Joey Morgan’s older brother makes two grand a week stealing cars, and gets to spend most of his time in the bar. Compared to that, my Dad seemed like a fool, busting his hump every day and never having anything to show for it…” He trailed off. “It took fifteen years to begin to understand what the old man really meant. And by then, he was dead.”

They rode in silence. The skyline loomed larger, a bright harvest moon hanging above it. They’d left Lakeshore for surface streets five minutes ago. Just a few more blocks. The roads here were quiet, with few cars and no pedestrians. The same things that had made the construction site a good place to keep Tommy made it a good place for Evan to plan the meet. A couple of gunshots would go unobserved.

That brought back the sliver of fear, the old tingle in Danny’s fingers and wrists. No fighting it this time. He thought of Karen and Tommy, bound and scared. All of the last weeks came down to the next half hour.

More than that. All of his life.

“Over there. By that park.”

Richard nodded, steering the Range Rover to the playground. Shallow ruts marked where Danny had driven across it yesterday. The loft was two short blocks from here. On foot, he could wend through dark alleys and approach unseen. It would do.

Danny reached for the door handle, then stopped and looked over at Richard. The glow from the dashboard carved his face from the darkness. He looked ready, resolute, but a deep sadness had inscribed itself on his features. Richard had discovered what really mattered to him just in time to lose it. Danny winced, fought the urge to look away as he spoke. “I’m sorry, Richard,” he said softly. “I’m so sorry to have dragged you and Tommy into this.”

Richard glanced at him. “There’s no forgiving you.”

Danny nodded. “I understand.”

“But I know you had no choice.” Richard’s eyes were weary. “That helps.”

But you did have a choice , the voice inside Danny whispered. In the beginning. You could have gone to the cops and taken your chances. Even if they’d tried to charge you for the pawnshop, at least you wouldn’t have fucked up any other lives. You had a choice and you made the wrong one.

Never again. He gripped the handle, took a deep breath, exhaled loudly. Then he opened the door, slid to the ground, and closed it behind him. The city’s hum filled his ears. Not waiting for Richard to pull away, Danny sprinted for the shade of the alley, keeping low. He didn’t stop running until he had his back against the cold brick of a building. He glanced in both directions, then loped off to the west, dodging from shadow to shadow.

It was time to clean up his mess. No matter the cost.

Considering the thing cost twice a detective’s salary, the Range Rover seemed awfully impractical. A gas guzzler, a bitch to park, and, oh yes, incredibly easy to tail.

Sean Nolan had hung back through most of the drive, staying football lengths behind Danny and Richard as they tooled down Lakeshore. The riskiest part had been in Evanston, at the man’s house. When Danny had started banging on the door, Nolan felt sure he’d turn around, spot him parked two doors down. But he didn’t, just kept pounding until the man let him in. While Danny was inside the house, Nolan had radioed in the address. Dispatch told him it belonged to a Richard O’Donnell. The same name was on the signs at the construction sites. Whatever was going on, Danny’s boss was involved.

Nolan didn’t have it figured yet, not quite, but he could feel it coming together. Enough time as a detective, you started to tap into something. Like using the Force. A part of you just started to sense something about to go down.

He thought about calling Matthews or Jackson, asking them to saddle up and join him. Detectives rolled solo all the time, but a smart man never walked into an actual situation without someone watching his back.

Thing was, they’d be in Area One, probably Englewood, where the bangers ran. For some reason, the bad guys loved holidays; even around Christmas, there was always a huge spike in crime – domestic violence, armed robbery, suicide. And Halloween brought the crazies out in force. If he called for backup, he’d be pulling cops away from what was sure to be a bad scene.

Not yet. He’d give it a little while, see what shaped up.

Ahead of him, the Range Rover abruptly stopped beside a small park. There’d been no warning, and he swung over hastily, pulling the sedan into the empty parking lot of an ironworks. What were they doing? Some sort of a meet? If so, Danny was losing his touch. The Rover wasn’t what you’d call inconspicuous in this neighborhood.

Then, as Nolan squinted at the truck, the passenger door opened and a figure in black jumped out. The man started sprinting the moment his feet hit the ground, cutting across the park and heading for an alley just beyond it. The Rover pulled away from the curb.

Danny had been on the passenger side.

Now Nolan had two targets. He could easily ride Danny down. But it would mean blowing his cover, and ending whatever was going on. The net result would be no different than it had been this afternoon. He needed to lie low until he figured out what was going on. With a soft curse, Nolan put the the car in drive and followed the Rover, keeping a hundred yards back. If he had to, he’d ride this tail all the way to hell.

Cold air sawed in and out of his lungs as Danny hauled himself up the electrical conduit behind the abandoned Quik-E-Mart. His sneakers clung to the brick, and once he had a good grip on the roof, it was just a matter of getting a knee up. He paused for breath, then crabbed his way to the edge of the building.

Despite the moon, the night was dark, the scattered pools of sodium light doing little to alleviate the gloom. Danny glanced at his watch. Quarter till nine. Call it seven or eight minutes of recon before he had to move. He unfastened the watch and slid it into his pocket, where it couldn’t reflect a stray beam of light and give him away. The roof gravel poked into his chest as he lay down to stare across the street.

The Pike Street building rose five stories, each less finished than the last, until the top floor girders poked upward like broken bones. A streetlight on the opposite corner backlit the skeletal structure, marking the concrete shaft that enclosed the fire stairs. October wind made the sheeting on the face snap and pop. On one hand, that was a stroke of luck; it echoed loudly, and would cover his approach. But it also meant he couldn’t see inside at all. The only part he could make out was the top floor, which had no plastic to screen it. Danny started there, scanning carefully. His eyes probed shadows, traced girders. Any detail could be the difference between life and death – and not only his own. Mentally, he overlaid the blueprints. The struts, the framing, everything exactly as it should be.

Wait.

There, by the upper entrance to the stairwell. Something caught his eye, a dark shape not geometric enough to belong. Then it moved, and he saw that it was two somethings.

Tommy and Karen.

It made sense. Tie them up out of the way, somewhere they couldn’t escape. Steel bands tightened around Danny’s chest. He couldn’t see Evan on top of the building. He could have been hiding, lying flat, but Danny doubted it. More likely he was on a lower floor. After all, he only expected Richard, and wouldn’t be spooked.