We All Fall Down

by Michael Harvey

  “You said it yourself. There’s been a release.”

  “Yes, but if it’s anthrax, there’s no real danger of person-to-person transmission.” Danielson snapped his laptop shut. “So why not just evacuate? Why the quarantine?”

  “I want to know about the subway.”

  Danielson checked his watch and picked up his gun. “You’re right. We don’t have a lot of time.”

  I wondered for a moment if he wasn’t just going to put a bullet in me and be done with it. Instead, he kept on talking.

  “You already know about Katherine Lawson. For the record, that was a sanctioned thing. She knew about the lightbulbs being lifted from Detrick. Was snooping around the subway trying to find them. I tried to warn her off.”

  “Then you popped her twice in the head with a twenty-two.”

  “Me? No. Like I said, it came from Washington.”

  “Then what?”

  “I knew both bulbs were harmless. Had rock-solid confirmation on that.”

  “Tell that to the corpses they’re collecting down at Cook County.”

  “The bulbs were harmless, Kelly. After Lawson, Washington ordered me to pull them out of the subway and turn them over to Brazile’s lab for disposal.”

  “So?”

  “So I got cute. Went off the playbook and sat on things for a couple of weeks.”

  “And Brazile went along.”

  “She trusted me.”

  “Her mistake. What were you waiting on?”

  “I fucked up.”

  “How?”

  “I had a line on some bad guys. A possible sleeper cell in Chicago, looking to buy materials.”

  “For an attack?”

  Danielson shrugged. “It was sketchy. Bio, maybe chemical. Maybe a load of bullshit. Anyway, we leaked information about Lawson’s death. Let them believe the bulbs were alive and still in place underground. Be just the thing guys like that cream over. I figured I’d give it a week or two, see if they made some inquiries. The home run would have been if they took a shot at the subway themselves.”

  “And you were certain the bulbs were harmless?”

  “Before I set up the sting, I went down into the subway myself.” Danielson gestured back into the shadows. “Detrick gave us an ultraviolet light. When you hit the bulbs with it, there’s an ID marker that glows. Took me maybe an hour to find both bulbs. I pulled one and gave it to CDA for testing. Left the other one where it was.”

  “And?”

  “Stuff was irradiated. Harmless. Hundred percent.”

  I sat back in my chair and thought things through. Maybe Danielson was lying, but I couldn’t figure why. Or why he was in my apartment in the first place.

  “If the bulbs are a red herring, what’s really going on?”

  “Now you’re asking the right questions.” Danielson waved the barrel of his gun in my face and belched lightly. I got the first whiff of what might have been gin. “What really happened? If you know the game, it’s simple.”

  “And you know the game?”

  “Not well enough, apparently. The bad guys must have gotten wind of my little sting and turned it around. Used the lightbulbs as cover to release their own pathogen. Only they were using the real thing.”

  “You think it was the guys you targeted in the sting?”

  “Not likely.”

  “How do you know?”

  Danielson cracked his teeth together in a second graveyard grin. “Fourth one told me.”

  “The fourth one?”

  “Tracked them down around five this morning. Fourth watched the first three die. After that he told me everything I wanted to know.”

  “Then joined his buddies in Nirvana?”

  “No one’s crying. Fact is, they had nothing to do with this. Of course, there are plenty of other assholes out there.”

  “Why use the lightbulbs as a cover? And if it was a terrorist group, why haven’t they gone public? Taken all the credit. Made some demands or something.”

  Danielson shook his head at yet another stupid question. “Whoever decides to use a bioweapon isn’t likely to go public. Too much heat from their own people. In fact, they’ll run from it.”

  “Then what’s the point?”

  “Blackmail. Today’s textbook. Limited release. Maybe five hundred, a thousand people dead in Chicago. We shake our fists, bomb the shit out of a few more countries, and erect memorials. The world feels our pain, but mostly worries who’s next. Meanwhile, the terrorists stay quiet. Somewhere down the road, they tap us on the shoulder. Tell us they got another load of something and are gonna use it. Chicago again. New York, LA. We believe they’ll use it because the fuckers already have. So we cave. Pandora goes back in her box. Bad guys get what they want. And no one in DC has to look bad. That’s how bioweapons really work. At least, the politics of it.”

  “So this is the first shot?”

  “Could be.”

  “And what are we supposed to do?”

  “You and me?” Danielson looked around the room in case I might have been referring to someone else.

  “Yes, Danielson. What do we do?”

  “We die, Kelly. Like everybody else. Only quicker.”

  CHAPTER 27

  “I’m not interested in dying,” I said.

  “Who is? Unfortunately, it’s not something that’s up for debate. The pathogen’s going to take its pound of flesh. Then the real fun starts. Washington will go all-out to paint this as a terrorist attack. Put a lid on anything, and anyone, connected to Detrick and the lightbulb angle.”

  “That’s you and me?”

  “When it comes to something like this, people fall into two categories. Either they can be contained, or they’re killed. I don’t have to tell you which category we fall into.”

  “So you just sit around and wait for them to show up?”

  “A man always has options. Especially in how he dies.”

  “You want to kill yourself, go ahead. Why pull me in?”

  “I received some information this morning … ”

  “From who?”

  “Doesn’t matter. The sting I was running had been compromised.”

  “You already knew that.”

  “Whoever dropped me the information gave me this as well.”

  Danielson pushed a folded piece of paper across the desk. “It’s not much. And I doubt it will help.”

  “Why don’t you run it down?”

  “I told you. I had my chance. Now people are dead. And someone has to answer.”

  I looked at the folded-up slip of paper. “But you think I’ll give it a try?”

  Danielson twitched pale fingers in the half-light. Silence twisted itself around us like a shroud. He lifted his gun to my head, before settling on my heart.

  “Think of it as a last good act.”

  The man from Homeland Security tilted forward and wrapped his lips carefully around the black barrel. Then he leaned back in his chair and stared at me without blinking. Right up until the moment he pulled the trigger.

  CHAPTER 28

  The bullet did its job. Danielson lay dead at my feet.

  I rolled the body over and managed to get the keys for the cuffs out of his pocket. I’d just gotten myself free when my cell phone buzzed. It was Ellen Brazile. And she was whispering.

  “You need to get out of there.”

  “Where?”

  “They know you’re in your apartment.”

  I crept to the front windows and peeked through a shade. The sedan was still there, but empty. Down the block were two more government-looking cars, also empty.

  “How long?”

  “They were going to wait for you to come out, but I think they’re going in. Maybe five minutes. Maybe less. It’s pretty crazy here.”

  “How did they find me?”

  “I don’t know. Danielson’s dirty.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “They found money in an offshore account. He’s probably left t
he country by now.”

  I looked down at the pool of blood widening under the agent’s head. “Probably.”

  “They found other things, Michael.”

  “What other things?”

  “I don’t know. Molly and I don’t believe it, but you’ve got to get out of there.”

  “Stay on your cell. I’ll call you later.”

  I flipped my phone shut and took another look out the window. The cars were still empty. I sneaked around to the kitchen for a peek out back. There were two more cars and three agents in the alley. Ellen was right. Time to move.

  I packed up Danielson’s laptop. Then I crept across the hallway and back into my neighbor’s apartment. I was halfway to the kitchen when Mikey Sanders came out of the bathroom in his boxers.

  “Motherfucker.” Mikey swung what looked like a nine iron, missing my head by a good bit and crashing to the floor. I wrestled the club away and slipped a hand across his mouth.

  “Mikey, it’s me.” I waited for him to settle. Then I took my hand off his mouth.

  “Kelly. I was on the can. Heard a noise in the hall.”

  “Were you in here earlier?”

  “When?”

  “Half an hour ago?”

  “I was sleeping. How did you get in?”

  “Long story. Listen, you know a little bit about what I do?”

  “I know you carry a gun and used to be a cop.”

  “Right. I got some bad guys downstairs. Gonna be up here in a few minutes.”

  Mikey’s eyes flew down the hall to his front door.

  “I don’t think they’ll be coming in here,” I said. “Not without a warrant, anyway.”

  “Are they cops?”

  “More like the feds.” I waited, knew this was the dicey part.

  “Fuck ’em,” Mikey said. “What do you need?”

  I smiled. “How would you like to get out of town for a few days?”

  My neighbor shrugged. “Love to. No ride.”

  I held up the keys to my rental. Then I laid out my plan for getting us both out of the building.

  CHAPTER 29

  It was another half hour before they moved on my place. I watched through my neighbor’s peephole as three agents crouched in the stairwell. They were dressed in blue FBI jackets with vests underneath. One carried a door ram; the other two, shotguns. I’d left my front door ajar, so they put the ram to one side and crept into the apartment. A minute later, four more agents followed up the stairs. I wasn’t entirely sure if they would try to get into Mikey’s place, but I didn’t think so. If I was black and lived on the South Side, maybe a different story. But I wasn’t. My neighbors knew their rights and could cause problems.

  I sat tight by the door for another ten minutes. There was more coming and going and a lot of people talking on radios. Then Mikey Sanders kicked in. I’d given him my cell phone, along with the car keys, and watched him walk out the front door of our building. Feds never gave him a second look. I’d told him to drive at least twenty blocks north and park. He was supposed to call in to voicemail at my office, leave the line open, and toss the cell in the trash somewhere. I was hoping the feds might have put a trace on my phone. I wasn’t disappointed.

  Four agents came out of my apartment in single file and clattered down the stairs. I crawled over to the front windows. They piled into three cars and peeled off. I checked the back alley. It, too, was suddenly clean. Best I could tell, there were only two agents left inside my apartment. None outside watching the street. I waited another five minutes, then slipped down my neighbor’s back stairs. Cornelia Avenue was still quiet. I walked to Southport and caught a cab headed west. I’d told Mikey to grab his girlfriend after he made the call, and get out of town. Seemed like a nice kid. I hoped he took my advice.

  CHAPTER 30

  Marcus Robinson studied his leader’s walk. It was a slow, powerful thing. Head up, shoulders rolling.

  “He’s coming,” James said.

  It was late afternoon on the West Side. Marcus and his brother were sitting in the backseat of a locked SUV. Jace had told them to chill and taken the keys. Now Ray Sampson moved closer and released the locks on the doors. He tapped lightly on the window. Marcus popped the door open.

  “Feelin’ special, Little Man?”

  Marcus bumped fists with his boss. He’d unloaded the gun he used to kill the Korean the day before and had the piece tucked inside his jacket. The bullets felt like cold lumps in his pocket.

  “Take a walk?” Ray Ray said.

  James tugged at his brother’s arm, but Marcus shook free. Ray Ray led him across the street and down an alley, past more cars, windows tinted, threads of white smoke leaking from tailpipes. Marcus could feel the eyes on him, hear the doors open and close after he’d gone by. They walked to the shunted-off end of the alley, just short of a scrap of fencing.

  “What you doing, Little Man?” Ray Ray tiptoed his fingers along the fence as he spoke.

  “Getting ready to roll.”

  “You got any idea what for?”

  “Jace said you’d tell us.”

  Ray Ray nodded and held out his hand. “Let me see the gat.”

  Marcus passed over his gun without a word. Ray Ray stuck it in his jacket pocket. Behind them, the ranks of the Fours pressed close, heads and shoulders blotting out the sky, watching, waiting to see what their boss was gonna do.

  “Where you get it, Little Man?”

  Marcus told him.

  “Tell me again about Cecil.”

  Marcus repeated his story. How Cecil had his gun on the white dude in Lee’s store when a second guy came out of the cellar. It was the second guy who shot Cecil, then took a couple more pops at the Robinson brothers. After that, the two white guys ran.

  “That it, huh?”

  “That’s it.” Marcus knew the story was weak. He also knew Ray Ray didn’t have a body to check. And didn’t really give a damn about Cecil, anyway.

  The Fours’ leader pulled his own heavy gun from his belt and held it in both hands. “Now tell me why you shot the Korean.”

  Marcus didn’t know how he knew. And didn’t bother to deny it. “He owed me.”

  “You doin’ business with the Korean?”

  “I helped him with some stuff.”

  “You see the dope in his place?”

  Marcus shook his head, and left it at that.

  “What you take out of there?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Don’t make no sense, Little Man.” Ray Ray dropped the piece to his side and tapped it against his leg. Marcus felt a twist in his belly, and hated it.

  “I was going to take the boxes we saw in the cellar.”

  “What was in them?”

  “I don’t know. Whatever they were, I figured I’d sell ’em.”

  “Rather than let me get my hands on them?”

  Marcus nodded. Ray Ray slipped the gun back in his belt. “Go ahead.”

  “I did the Korean in the afternoon. Was getting ready to move them boxes with a forklift when the motherfucker jumps in.”

  “Who?”

  “Tall, white. Wore a long coat.”

  “Not the two you saw later?”

  “Don’t think so.”

  “How come you don’t know?”

  “This guy was wearing a mask.”

  Ray Ray pulled a black mask from under his coat. “Like this?”

  Marcus nodded and didn’t think anything of it. “Took a shot at me in the cellar. I got out through the tunnels.”

  “And that’s it?”

  “That’s it.”

  “So you telling me this other white guy—he took my dope?”

  Marcus shrugged.

  “You ever gonna come clean on any of this, Little Man?”

  “If I thought it helped you find the dope, I would’ve.”

  Ray Ray sighed, then leaned down so he was almost eye level with Marcus. “Which hand you shoot with?”

  Marcus held up his right. Ra
y Ray studied it like he’d never seen one quite like it. He straightened and walked along the fence line, kicking at the ground with his boot. He came back carrying a chunk of concrete.

  “Over here.”

  Ray Ray led Marcus to a pad of cement that was broken up at the edges, but smooth enough. He laid the boy on his belly, left hand flat on the pavement. The crowd of bangers re-formed around them.

  “Spread your fingers.”

  Marcus did.

  “In Ireland they call this breeze blocking.” Ray Ray waited for someone to be impressed. Marcus didn’t have much to say. Ray Ray lifted the piece of concrete in his fist. “You move, I use the gun.”

  Marcus turned his head to one side. Ray Ray brought the concrete down in one solid chunk, crushing the ring and pinkie fingers. Marcus screamed but didn’t cry. Ray Ray lifted the rock up, took a look at the damage, and tossed the rock away.

  “Go on back now.”

  Ray Ray handed him his gun. Marcus took it in his right hand, cradling his left against his stomach. His legs felt wobbly. Someone grabbed his elbow. It was James. They were twenty feet down the alley when Ray Ray called out.

  “Little Man?”

  Marcus turned.

  “You still good for shooting a pump?”

  Marcus nodded.

  “Jace.”

  The shooter stepped out of a doorway. He carried a black pistol in one hand.

  “Time comes, make sure Little Man here gets himself a shotgun and a bucket full of shells.”

  Ray Ray turned away, and Marcus walked out of the alley alive. A surprise to everyone. No one more so than Marcus himself.

  CHAPTER 31

  The cabbie dropped me at a Starbucks on Madison, just east of the United Center. It took the better part of an hour to figure out the eavesdropping device on Danielson’s laptop. After that, I sat like a virtual fly on the wall, reading the increasingly frantic message traffic between Chicago and DC. I wasn’t able to get it all, but there was enough to give me an idea of how things might go down over the next twelve hours.

  It was almost six before someone in Homeland got smart and shut down Danielson’s link. I snapped his laptop shut and told the kid pouring cappuccinos she might want to close up early. She said her boss would be mad. I told her I was a cop, and she should pay attention to what I was telling her. Then I left.