''All right,'' Lucas said. He stuck a finger in Stadic's gut. ''Get some sleep.''
''But what's happening?'' Stadic asked.
''We think one of our guys is talking to LaChaise,'' Lester said grimly.
Stadic's eyelids fluttered, and he said, ''No way.'' And then, ''Who?''
Lucas, Sloan and Franklin were already pushing through the door into the snow.
''Arne Palin,'' Roux said to Stadic, behind them.
''No way,'' Stadic said again.
''I gotta think he's right,'' Franklin said as they stepped out into the snow and the door closed. He looked up at the miserable sky, which was so close that he almost felt he could touch it. ''I can't believe it's Arne Palin.''
STADIC WENT DOWN TO HIS OFFICE; NOBODY HOME, just a bunch of empty desks. He kept a half-dozen white crosses stashed in a hole at the back of a desk drawer, where they couldn't be seen even if you emptied out the drawer. He popped one, as an eye-opener, took his phone out of his pocket and started to punch the speed dial, but stopped, frowned, thought about it and turned it off again. Cell phones are radios. He should stay off the air.
Then it occurred to him that LaChaise's calls on the cell phone could be traced.
Shit. If they found the phone, and checked the billing, he'd be screwed. Stadic started to sweat. Christ, he had to get that cell phone. Had to.
He thought for a moment, then picked up a desk phoneand dialed LaChaise's number: as he dialed, the first of the amphetamine hit his bloodstream, and his mind seemed to clear out a bit.
LaChaise answered: ''Yeah.''
''I got a guy for you,'' Stadic said, without preamble.
''Which one?''
''Franklin. He and Davenport and a couple of other guys just left here, they're gonna raid a guy… nothing to do with you. But I heard Franklin say he had to sneak over to his house after this raid, to pick up some clothes for his wife. She's over at the hotel.''
''When's he gonna get there?'' LaChaise asked.
''This raid won't take long,'' Stadic said. ''They'll probably hit this house in twenty minutes or so, and Franklin doesn't live too far away. I'd say, half hour to an hour, depending on what happens with the raid.''
''Anybody watching his house?''
''No.''
''Gimme the address,'' LaChaise said.
After he hung up, Stadic worked it through his quickening brain: wait in the snow across the street. If he saw LaChaise and Martin arrive, that was fine. If he didn't, he'd wait until Franklin showed. Franklin would pull out the other two. And when they moved in on him, to kill him, Stadic could come up from behind, and take them out.
Just as he'd planned it at the other house, but with one less guy to worry about. Had to get that cell phone, though.
Leaving the office, locking the door, he heard voices in the hall, and then
Lester came around the corner with Lew Harrin, a homicide guy. He heard Lester say, ''There's Stadic, let's get him,'' and then Lester called, ''Hey, Andy.''
Stadic turned as they came up. ''Yeah?''
''We got a homicide down on Thirty-third, somebody ran over a guy laying in the street. The uniforms checked it out, say it looks like he was already dead, couple of bullets in the head. Run down there with Lew, see what's going on.''
''Listen, I'm totally fucked…'' Stadic began.
''Yeah, I know,'' Lester said. ''We're all fried. We can't put you out front because you don't have a gun, but you can do this, this is just bullshit interviewing. Anyway, we hear the guy's a doper. Maybe you'll know him.''
''Man, my head…''
''I don't want to hear it,'' Lester said. ''Get your ass down there.''
LACHAISE AND MARTIN SCRAMBLED TO GET READY FOR the attack on Franklin. Martin had field-stripped one of the. 45s. He walked around finding his boots as he put it back together and reloaded. LaChaise pulled on his parka and said to Sandy,
''I'm worried about you. You'd sell us out, just like your old man.''
''C'mon, Dick,'' she said. ''Don't scare me.''
''You oughta be scared.''
''I am scared,'' she said. ''The police are going to kill us.''
''Yeah, probably,'' he said, and he grinned at her.
Martin handed LaChaise a blued Colt. 45 and a half-dozen magazines. ''A little more firepower,'' he said. ''I wish we had some goddamn heavier stuff. That AR'd be worth its weight in gold.''
LaChaise broke his eyes away from Sandy. ''These'll work,'' he said, stuffing them in his parka pocket. He turned back to Sandy. ''I thought about taking you, but that won't work. We're gonna have to…''
''What?'' she asked, suddenly sure that this was it: they were going to kill her.
LaChaise grinned at her. ''Gonna have to tie you up a little.''
''Dick, c'mon. I'm not going anywhere. I can't…''
''Bill and I have been talking: we think you will.''
She looked at Martin, who nodded. ''You will,'' he said.
''Down the garage,'' LaChaise said.
THEY'D FOUND A DOZEN PADLOCKS IN A KITCHEN drawer, of the kind Harp used as backup locks on his washing-machine coin boxes. And from the garage, they got a chain. Martin brought an easy chair along, and a stack of magazines.
The lockup was quick, simple and almost foolproof: LaChaise, Sandy thought, probably learned it in prison. One end of the chain went snugly around her waist, and was padlocked in place. The other end went around a support beam in the basement, and was padlocked there. She had just enough slack to sit down.
''You can try to get out,'' LaChaise said. ''But don't hurt yourself trying,
'cause it won't do you no good.''
''Dick, you don't have to do this,'' Sandy said, pleading. ''I'd be here.''
LaChaise looked at her hard: ''Maybe… maybe we can have some fun when I get back.''
''What?''
He said, ''C'mon, Bill. We gotta move.''
LUCAS KNEW FIVE MINUTES AFTER THEY TOOK ARNE Palin that they'd made a mistake.
They'd set up a few blocks away, pulled on the vests, ready for anything. The entry team went to the front door, knocked, and when Palin opened, pushed him back. Another team went through the back door at the same moment, breaking the lock. Palin, sputtering, stuttering, his wife screaming, watched as the team flowed through the house, from bedrooms to basement. Lucas, Sloan and Franklin moved in right behind the entry team. Palin had been patted down and pushed back onthe couch with his wife. Palin was sputtering, angry, then dumbfounded.
''Nothing here,'' Franklin said. ''Can I split?''
''Yeah, take off,'' Lucas said. ''You coming back to the office?''
''Soon as I get the stuff to my old lady,'' Franklin said. He nodded at Palin.
''Arne,'' he said, and he was gone.
''What the hell?'' Palin asked Lucas. ''What the hell?''
''Last night you called in a routine make on a Wisconsin pickup that belonged to an Elmore and Sandy Darling. Why'd you do that?''
Palin's wife looked at him, and Palin's mouth opened and shut, and then he turned his head, thought for a moment, then looked up at Lucas and said, ''I never did that.''
''We got you on tape, Arne.''
''I never,'' Palin protested.
''Elmore Darling was shot to death last night and Sandy Darling is running, maybe, with LaChaise and these other nuts. We know you ran their tags…''
''You wanna fuckin' listen to me?'' Palin screamed. He started to stand up but
Lucas held a hand out toward his chest. He sat down again and shouted, ''I didn't run no Wisconsin plates, and you ain't got it on tape because I never did it.''
Sloan said, his soft act, ''Arne, you might want to get a lawyer. ..''
''I don't need no fuckin' lawyer,'' Palin shouted, bouncing on the couch.
''Bring the fuckin' tapes in here. Bring the fuckin' tapes in here.''
Lucas looked at him for a long beat, then at his wife, who was weeping. ''All right,'' he said. ''Why don't you get your coat on? Let's go downtown and listen to the tapes, and see if we can figure out what's going on.''
''I want to come, too,'' Palin's wife said.
Lucas nodded. ''Sure, that'd be fine.'' He'd been about totell her to get her coat, as well. He didn't want anyone left behind, if they were talking to