“Yeah,” Wolfe said. “It’s a sad thing. Even though Tranter’s a corrupt, murdering dirt bag. Come on, let’s go upstairs and have that drink…”
Starling’s face appeared on Verrick’s desktop, in a webcam video. Verrick knew what the report would be just from the look on Starling’s face. “Sir, Mr Verrick, sir, we lost track of him… We think he’s somewhere in Black Viceroy territory. There is one possibility…”
Verrick was at his desk, looking at the first reports of the SystemsLeak upload. He closed the news window, and looked at Starling.
“Starling…” Verrick had to pause a moment, to get control of himself. He was in his Blume office—he didn’t want to start shouting about this, in here. He found a roll of antacids on his desk, and flicked a tablet into his mouth, began to chew. His stomach felt like bubbling cauldron of hydrochloric acid. His back was aching; his head was throbbing. He was thinking seriously about having an Oxycontin.
“Sir yes sir?” Starling prompted.
“Starling—have you seen the SystemsLeak uploads? They’re already hitting the net.”
“Sir, yes sir. I have been monitoring the situation. I would like to point out that they went mostly to alternative news sites. The story hasn’t been picked up yet by the New York Times and CNN. We could unleash the Purity cyberhack team and take down the mainstream news sites. The way the Syrians did to the New York Times—”
“Starling, I told you never to mention Purity in any transmitted communication!”
“Sir, sorry sir. But we could bring down those news sites…”
“No, no, that’d just make it look like someone was hiding the truth—if it came out that we… no. Instead… I have another plan. Most of this stuff in this file is just people connecting the dots. There’s no real proof against me or Van Ness in it. What I need is… I’ve got to talk to you in person, Starling. How far away are you?”
“Sir, not far, sir, I was directing the…”
“Never mind. Meet me on the roof of the Blume Building. You’ve got the all-access card.”
Verrick cut the connection and decided on half an Oxycontin. He had to stay functional.
He took the half pill, lay down on his office sofa for a while, and tried not to think…
Twenty-five minutes later, he was up, and heading to the roof.
It was damned cold up there. But he was a little numb from half a synthetic morphine pill, and bundled in his overcoat and hat and leather gloves.
Starling arrived a couple minutes later, not as warmly dressed, and cringing into his old Army cold weather coat against the Hawk wailing across the rooftop.
There were two miserable looking Graywater mercs up there, standing sentry, rifles over shoulders, tramping back and forth to keep warm. Verrick made a mental note to get them relieved. He didn’t need these guys starting to think disloyally out of resentment.
Verrick and Starling took shelter in the lee of the elevator housing, out of the wind, the two of them pressed close to the housing’s wall. “Well, Starling, what else have you got to tell me?”
“Sir, the bodies of Four Graywaters were found dumped in the Club’s turf, about ten minutes ago. And there was another body with them. It was barely recognizable, but—they think it’s Detective Tranter.”
“Tortured?”
“Sir, beaten to death. Black Viceroys, judging from the chatter I picked up… Sir.”
Four Mercs down. And Tranter. An important ally.
Would he even be able to keep the Graywaters working for him, with this kind of attrition rate? He’d have to double, maybe triple their pay…
“Sir, you had a plan about blocking that upload, s-s-sir?” Starling’s teeth were starting to chatter in the rooftop cold.
“No, that horse is out of the barn. My plan is to see that anyone who could substantiate those accusations has… an accident. Maybe in some cases—the same accident.”
“S-s-sir?”
“Blume is planning a demonstration of some new tech. Prototype self-driving cars. There’re four people in this town who can connect me with that missing money. And maybe with Purity. And we don’t want anyone talking about Purity. Some of these people might start panicking about now, what with this SystemsLeak stuff. Going to the Justice Department, maybe. Try to cut a deal.”
“S-s-sir, th-that w-would—”
“Will you stop that stuttering, Starling? Just shut up and listen. This is what I want you to do…”
“Ow!”
“You’re the one said you didn’t need a regular doctor,” Wolfe said, stitching the wound closed. “Best I can do. I got pretty good at it in the field, up country… There.”
Wolfe was sitting close beside her on the sofa of the folded-up sofabed. He leaned back to look critically at the minor wound on her shoulder. “You’re gonna have a scar. But that’s okay, you’ll be more badass that way.”
“Stop being a smart aleck, Wolfe, and cut the thread.”
He cut the thread from the needle. “How about some more local anesthetic on that?”
“You call that stuff from the corner store a local anesthetic? Forget it.”
“Hey don’t get mad at me, I didn’t shoot you. You jumped into this thing with both feet, Seline.”
“Yes I did. I was thinking about jumping out again. But not because somebody shot at me.” She took a pull on the Scotch. “Because I was involved in something that got bullets flying around a neighborhood in Chicago where there were ordinary, unarmed people—people who could’ve caught those bullets. We don’t know for sure someone didn’t get hit by a stray bullet.”
“Haven’t seen it on the local news yet.”
“I hope we don’t see it, Wolfe. We did see something on the news about five bodies being dumped.”
“Those mercs had to know they were working for the bad guys. They didn’t care. You makes your choice and you takes your chances.”
“They beat Tranter to death.”
“After years of abuse from him.”
“So that makes it cool?”
“No. It doesn’t. But you know, if we hadn’t had help from the Viceroys, we’d be dead by now. And there’s something big coming down, Seline. Something that could involve thousands of deaths—maybe millions. And a plot to take over Chicago. Use it as a base against the rest of the country.”
“You told me. You really believe that’s what they’re planning?”
“It fits like a jigsaw piece. Fits right in with everything I know about these creeps.”
She seemed to brood over that. “If I was sure…”
He stood up. What he had to do now, for Seline, was going to take an act of will…
“You know what, Seline—you don’t have to be sure. You can walk away from this. And you should. You’ve been in firefights at my side. You kept your head. You stuck by me. You did the job. You were a stand-up soldier. And you did what you came here to do. You uploaded your friend’s file. It’s making its way across the internet. You don’t need to be here anymore. You can leave Chicago.” He kept his voice gentle, as he said it. He knew he was angry—because he simply wanted her with him. Close to him. And that was selfish. He had to suck it up, and let her go. “I think you’re right—you should walk away from this, and leave it to me and Pearce. When I get more evidence, you can testify to the Justice Department with us. I’ll call you.”
Seline blinked up at him. She seemed disappointed. There was no figuring women.
“You want me to go?” she asked.
He didn’t. But he kept his face deadpan. “I think you should go. Tomorrow morning.”
He made himself walk to the bedroom, close the door, and lie down on the cot.