Jeff Jacobson - Sleep Tight

They finally gave up and started out to the runways to flag down one of the luggage carriers. They flashed their badges. The woman didn’t even take off her ear protection, just jerked her head and the empty line of luggage cars she was towing. Ed and Sam hopped on. Ed’s phone beeped. He checked it and said, “Well, it’s official. This night has gone to shit. Carolina’s flight was cancelled. She won’t be in until tomorrow. Maybe.”

Sam shrugged. “Guess we should head for home. Get a good night’s sleep, be fresh for all the paperwork in the morning.”

They cracked up.

The baggage handlers showed them how to find their way through the winding conveyer belts and out into the terminal. The place was full of bright lights and plenty of law enforcement. Most of the local cops were in charge of keeping the reporters out of the terminal. They slipped under the yellow tape and found their Crown Vic blocked by a dizzying array of police cruisers, somber government sedans, and tech vans.

Sam shook his head. “Moses himself couldn’t part all that shit.”

“We need new wheels, that’s for damn sure.”

They hiked out in the snow again, until they found a young cop standing in front of his cruiser, diverting traffic into the parking garages, where drivers would be forced back onto the O’Hare Expressway, heading back into the city.

“Officer . . .” Sam squinted at the cop’s badge. “Reid? I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news for you. My partner and I have an emergency, and we need this car. Immediately. You will continue your assignment, and you’re doing fine work, by the way, but when you are relieved, you will take our car back to Division One. Eleventh Street, you understand?”

“But . . .” The cop looked like he’d been ordered to suck his thumb in front of all the traffic.

“You questioning orders? Seriously?” Sam glared at Ed. “Can you fucking believe this?” He turned back to the cop, getting uncomfortably close. “You mean to tell me you’re actually going to interfere with superior officers when they are attempting to deal with an honest-to-God homicide emergency?”

“Son,” Ed said patiently, long accustomed to playing the good cop. “Do yourself a favor. Turn your keys over to this man. You do not want to piss him off.”

Officer Reid thought about it for a few more seconds and said, “The keys are in the ignition.” Ed climbed into the driver’s seat while Sam stretched out in the passenger’s. The cop tapped on the driver’s window. Ed hit the button and the window slid down. Officer Reid leaned in, trying to be as intimidating as possible, like he had pulled them over for some traffic violation. “You can’t just take a cruiser whenever you feel like it. I’m calling this in.”

“You better,” Ed said. “You damn well better follow procedure.” He sent the window back up, hit the lights and the siren too just for the hell of it, and sent cars scattering as they tore off down the crowded highway.

“Thought it was long overdue you and I sat down, face to face, without all the goddamn lawyers between us.” Lee leaned back, crossing his alligator-skin dress shoes on the corner of his desk and lacing his fingers behind his head. He had a face chiseled for politics. Strong. Handsome. Reassuring. Tonight he wore his concerned, caring look. “Wanted to make sure you understood how this deal works.”

Tommy knew how the deal worked.

Lee didn’t wait for Tommy. “You grew up here. You know how things happen in this city. You’re either scratching somebody’s back or you’re out on your ass.”

Tommy nodded, let his gaze wander around Lee’s office. Cornelius Shea, “Lee” to friends and enemies alike, was the youngest commissioner of Streets and Sanitation in the history of the city of Chicago. He had enough muscle to snag an office on the second-to-top floor of City Hall. A large photograph of Lee and then Mayor Daley Jr. hung directly behind his desk. More photos of Lee shaking hands with VIPs were hung around the opulent office. Most citizens wouldn’t have gotten this far, and Tommy understood why Lee hadn’t taken down the pictures of himself with former Illinois governors, considering three out of the last four were currently behind bars for corruption. Lee preferred instead to conduct press conferences out in front, with City Hall itself serving as a dramatic backdrop, or give interviews as he walked the streets of one of the quieter neighborhoods, proving he was just a man of the people.

And of course, he had a framed print of goddamned Wrigley Field at night. It figured.

Lee arched one thick black eyebrow. “You hearing me, or is this some kinda big joke to you?”

“I hear you.”

“I sure as hell hope so. You play by my rules, everybody’s happy. You got yourself a cushy job until you retire and get to be a dad to your little girl. Fuck it up, and I promise you you’ll never see her again. Hell, you’ll be lucky you don’t end up in prison. Your job is to keep me happy. That’s all you gotta worry about. And keeping me happy means steering clear of any goddamn nosy social workers, or anybody else that gets curious, especially any cock-sucking reporters.”

He lit a cigarette, blew smoke at the ceiling. He was dressed in a tux, with the bow tie rakishly open and hanging on either side of the unbuttoned collar. He probably thought he looked like James Bond after a casual night gambling in Monaco. There was some heavy-duty charity dinner with all the heavyweights in town at the brand-spanking-new Serenity Hotel, with proceeds supposedly going to help needy children. Maybe get his picture in the Trib ’s RedEye .

The boys with the real power, and the true recipients of most of the money, wouldn’t show up in the paper. They wouldn’t get within ten feet of a camera.

Politics in Chicago.

Lee took another drag. Tommy guessed that the city ban on indoor smoking in public buildings didn’t apply to this particular office. “Shit. It’s not a bad deal, when you stop and think about it. Let’s cut through the bullshit. A piece of ass like Kimmy . . . fuck me, you didn’t think she’d stick with you forever, did you? Jesus Christ. I hope not. No friggin’ way. Hell, I can’t believe she stuck with you for this long.”

Tommy had been shocked when a whole army of lawyers accompanied Kimmy to the divorce proceedings. He’d figured they’d sign some papers, agree to share custody of Grace, and it would be all simple and clean. He hadn’t even thought to bring a lawyer.

It hadn’t taken long for Tommy to get a queasy feeling, like he was the only one at a party who didn’t know anybody and all the guests were starting to lick their lips and look at him like he was going to be the main course for dinner. It had been obvious that the lawyers and the judge were all good friends and golfing buddies. There had been no one else in the courtroom, so they hadn’t even tried to pretend.

The judge had awarded Kimmy sole custody of Grace, and hit Tommy with an absurdly high child-support bill. There was no way he could afford to pay, not with his old job. Everybody knew this, and Tommy felt stupid for not figuring out the deal sooner. Not a day later, a job offer had come through, an offer to work for the City of Chicago, as an employee for the Department of Streets and Sanitation. His salary had seemed suspiciously high, until he’d realized that most of his pay would be taken out for child support and various other contributions to the union and the city.

“So.” Lee stubbed out his cigarette. “I’m going to assume we have an understanding.”

“Sure.”

“Then I suggest you get moving. Don’t want to be late clocking in your first night.”

Tommy stood and headed for the door.