Джеймс Паттерсон - The Black Book

I paced the floor with more urgency, like it was some kind of Olympic event, wondering if I should jump in my car and head over to Kate’s. But it was almost two in the morning. That was crazy. Still, if she was thinking of harming herself, if by some chance she’d actually been serious when she sent me that photo with the gun—

Let me know you’re ok, I texted.

—and then the panic began to rise in my chest, and I suddenly blamed myself, feeling guilty that I didn’t take her more seriously when I first got that photo this afternoon, that maybe it was a cry for help and I was so caught up in my surveillance that I didn’t pay sufficient attention—

—again, for the second time in my life, I didn’t see the warning signs—

— call back, Kate, please call back —

I threw my coat back on and grabbed my car keys off the table by the front door. I went into the garage and popped open the garage door, a wave of chilly wind sweeping in, then I jumped in my car and started the ignition.

And my phone buzzed. I grabbed for it with such intensity that I fumbled it, the phone falling to the floorboard in my car. I reached down and grabbed it, read the face of it. It was a text message from Kate.

Fuck u

I breathed out. Never in my life had I been so glad to have someone tell me to fuck off. At least Kate hadn’t…done the unthinkable.

I wiped sweat from my forehead, put my head against the steering wheel.

I typed a response into my phone. Do you want me to come over?

I wasn’t sure if that was a good idea, so I added the words Just to talk. Then I hit Send and heard my message swoosh to Kate.

Within seconds, another buzz of my phone, then one more, another rat-a-tat-tat of messages from Kate.

Yeah I get that its just to talk u made it clear u aren’t interested I don’t have to be hit over the head

I don’t need to talk to u

You had your chance. Remember that I gave u the chance

So now she didn’t want to see me? Over the last two days, she was desperate for my company, trying everything in her power to woo me, and now she didn’t want anything to do with me. What had suddenly changed?

Well, one thing had changed: I had just stopped tailing Kim Beans.

My body went cold. It felt like everything in the world skidded to a halt.

I killed the engine. Let the garage light go off. Sat in darkness inside the car.

Only Amy knew I was tailing Kim. She knew I was doing it, and she knew how long it would last. She knew specifically when it ended.

Kate had gone to rather considerable lengths to get me to pay her a visit over the course of that surveillance, from come-hither notes to angry words, from pornographic messages to suicidal references. Anything to get my attention. And then, the moment the surveillance was over, I was like a pariah to her, about as welcome as a case of the shingles.

In the long, dark, heavy silence of the car, I let out a chuckle. Because it was so implausible that it merited a good, hearty, mocking laugh.

There was absolutely, positively no way Amy and Kate were in on this together.

Seventy-Seven

I HEADED to work feeling hungover, though I hadn’t had a sip of booze last night. Instead I’d spent the night trying to work it all out, trying to remain objective and logical, but hitting a brick wall at every turn.

It was time to talk to Kate once and for all. It was time to lock all this down.

On the drive in, at a stoplight, I pulled up ChicagoPC on my phone and found Kim Beans’s weekly column. Sure enough, there was no photograph today, the first time in memory that Kim’s column didn’t contain a snapshot of somebody approaching that brownstone. Kim began her column with this:

No pic today! Sorry! But hopefully absence makes the heart grow fonder!

Making a joke of it. Sounding cute and whimsical. She didn’t look so carefree last night, when her source stood her up.

I wasn’t feeling so carefree, either.

When I got to work, I found Kate’s desk neat and orderly as always, the desk lamp turned off, her coat absent from her spot on the coatrack. She wasn’t in yet. I checked my watch. I was a little late, which made Kate even later. Kate was never late.

“There he is.”

I heard Soscia’s voice.

“The big cop who won the big trial. Now he thinks he doesn’t have to come in to work anymore.”

Sosh was by his desk with my favorite lieutenant, Paul Wizniewski, both of them huddled over Sosh’s computer.

“Where’s Kate?” I asked, taking off my jacket.

“What, you guys don’t ever talk anymore? She’s taking a few days off.”

Of course she was.

“Nice of you to show up,” said the Wiz, nodding.

I had overtime up to my chin and hadn’t taken any vacation all year. I had all kinds of time built up. But I didn’t respond. Wizniewski would like nothing more than to write me up for insubordination.

“What’s got your attention?” I asked, nodding to them as they focused on Sosh’s computer. “Is there a new episode of My Little Pony today?”

“Nah,” said Sosh out of the corner of his mouth. “We’re all about to hear our favorite congressman tell us that he’s going to do us the honor of becoming our next mayor.”

Oh, right. Congressman John Tedesco, the presumed favorite in the upcoming mayoral race to replace Francis Delaney. Since the mayor’s conviction and removal from office three days ago, the congressman had been saying he was “exploring” the possibility of running for mayor and “talking to constituents,” all the bullshit things candidates say before they take the plunge.

I walked over to join them, getting a nice pungent whiff of cigar for my trouble. Wizniewski didn’t even look in my direction, which was fine by me.

I was just in time. The video was live-streamed, and Congressman Tedesco, silver-haired and handsome, had just approached the lectern, which was studded with microphones from various media outlets.

“I scheduled today’s press conference to make an announcement about my intentions for the upcoming mayoral race,” said the congressman. “Over these many weeks, I’ve spoken with many of you around this fine city…”

“Oh, fuck yourself. Just come out with it,” said Soscia.

“But over the last few days, I have come to a different conclusion. I have looked at the state of this city, and I’ve decided it needs a clean sweep. It needs someone from a different generation. It needs someone who isn’t afraid to make the tough decisions, to crack down on the corruption that plagues this city.”

I held my breath. Tedesco wasn’t running?

“This city needs Margaret Olson, the Cook County state’s attorney.”

No. What?

“Get the fuck outta Dodge,” Soscia mumbled.

Congressman Tedesco held out his arm in invitation. Then Margaret Olson approached the bank of microphones and gave the congressman a warm embrace.

“You gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me,” said Sosh. “Maximum Margaret?”

I couldn’t believe it, either. Margaret Olson was running for mayor?

I looked at the Wiz, who didn’t say a word. Didn’t seem all that surprised, either.

“I am humbled beyond words,” Olson said into the microphones.

“Looks like you did her dirty work for her,” Wizniewski said to me. “You knocked the mayor out of office so she could take his job. What did she promise you?”

I didn’t take the bait from the Wiz. In other circumstances, I might have, but I was still too stunned to speak.

“When Congressman Tedesco approached me about running, my first instinct was to decline,” said Olson into the camera. “But then I thought about this city and its problems and whether I could be the one to clean it up.”