Precinct 11 - 01 - The Brotherhood (35 page)

That seemed to satisfy everyone except his mother. She always seemed to have something on her mind, something she wanted to say. And now she had her opportunity. Boone had slid into the car and started the engine, and there she stood, without even a coat, leaning into his window and shivering.

“You know, Boone, how long it’s been. I don’t think anyone would fault you if you started getting back into the swing of things. Socially, you know.”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning you have the right to be happy again. To start seeing people.”

“I see people every day at the office. And I’m back into a decent routine.”

“You know what I mean, honey. I wish you’d have stayed at that big church where there have to be a lot of young single women. . . .”

“Mom, please.”

“Maybe there’s someone in the new place.”

“I’ll keep my eyes open.”

“You don’t sound like you mean it. You know, in our church there are three or four girls from your past who wished they’d had their chance—”

“Mom! Stop. I’ll know when I’m ready, all right?”

“Just don’t close yourself off from possibilities is all I’m saying. You know I’m only looking out for you.”

And it was true. He knew that. But it was way too early to even mention Haeley and any possibilities there. For one thing, Boone had no idea what the future held. He thought Haeley was as open as he was to seeing how the relationship developed. But the whole thing was embryonic. Besides, if and when the time came that he needed to introduce her to his family, he worried about their reaction to her having had a child out of wedlock.

His childhood church preached forgiveness and acceptance, especially toward people who were repentant. But that didn’t always translate to biblical charity when it came to actually living it out—especially for Boone’s mother. Well, if the future included Haeley and Max, the boy would melt his mother’s heart. She would have to accept or get used to Haeley’s situation.

Boone and Haeley had agreed not to talk to each other while each was at home for Christmas, just to avoid misunderstanding from their families. But now, as he was driving back to Chicago and knew she and Max would be on the road too, Boone couldn’t wait to talk to her. He had planned to make fun of his own experience and tell her how glad he was to be headed back home, but her giddy tone stopped him.

“I had
such
a good time,” she said. “It was great to see everybody, and of course Max is the perfect age to keep everybody entertained. He was the center of attention.”

“Let me talk to him.”

“Oh, he’s dead to the world. He got so much stimulation, I don’t know how I’ll keep him entertained when we get back. But he missed his naps, wore himself out, and loved every minute of it. He’s been sleeping since we pulled out of the driveway.”

“So your family has forgiven you for . . . you know . . .”

“Living in sin? They were pretty good about it all along, Boone. They were disappointed, sure, and they reminded me—which I knew all too well—that I was raised better. But last Christmas was when I visited them as the ashamed prodigal. They’re thrilled I’ve come back to the Lord, am active in church, gainfully employed, all that. They just hate that I’m not with Max most of every day, and that tears me up too, but I can’t change it.”

Maybe someday,
Boone thought.

“We still on for Saturday?” he said. “First one of the new year.”

“I was hoping you’d ask. I didn’t know if you wanted to make that a regular thing for the whole year or not.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I didn’t want to be presumptuous. Single mom with a crazy schedule. I don’t want you to feel obligated. I mean, there are fifty-two Saturdays again this year.”

Boone was silent for a moment. Then, “I hope you’re just being polite, Haeley.”

“I’m giving you an out, you big goof.”

“Do
you
want an out?”

“I don’t need an out. I can just tell you I’m done. But I’m the one with the kid, and you’re too nice to break my heart. So I’m just saying, you have an out if you want it.”

“All right,” he said, “I’m thoroughly confused. Are you trying to tell me something?”

“Yes.”

When Haeley didn’t elaborate, Boone feared the worst. “And that is?”

“That I would love to spend time with you every Saturday this year, as long as you can put up with me.”

“And what about Sunday lunches with both of you? Those still on too?”

“I have a meeting scheduled with Max where that’s one of the items on the agenda,” she said. “Oh, wait, I make his decisions for him. Yes.”

“I have a Christmas gift for you,” he said.

“That makes two of us. We’ll have our Christmas after New Year’s, then.”

“I’ll save Max’s till the next day,” Boone said.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s nothing. But it’s only fair. We don’t want him feeling left out.”

“Are you kidding? He thinks I’m interfering with his relationship with you as it is.”

Saturday Boone and Haeley waited more than an hour for a table at Giordano’s on Rush, which they discovered had been each other’s favorite pizza place since long before they met. Boone gave her a thin gold necklace with a dazzling sapphire.

“Oh no,” she said. “It’s too much.”

“Really? Sorry. It wasn’t exorbitant.”

“No, no, I love it. I just mean, my gift for you is more of a novelty, so now I feel bad.”

“Anything from you will be cool.”

And it was. She’d had a key ring made with a fob that contained a tiny picture of her and Max on one side and lettering on the other that read, “Pizza!”

“Perfect,” Boone said. “Really.” And he began switching his keys to it immediately.

“But yours was serious and mine was silly.”

“Not to me,” Boone said.

Haeley laughed. “You’re seriously going to cherish that,” she said. “I can tell.”

He raised his brows and nodded.

The next day after church he presented Max with a Nerf football, then had to take him out in the parking lot when the boy wouldn’t quit trying to throw it inside the restaurant.

“You’ve created a monster,” Haeley said as Boone ducked between and under cars to keep fetching the thing in a frigid wind. “I’m going to have to tape down all my lamps at home.”

At work Monday she reported that Max insisted on sleeping with the football.

D-day was just two days away, and Boone found himself spending alternate hours between Pascual Candelario and the task force that had been camping out in the Organized Crime Division offices. His and Pascual’s clandestine meeting places kept changing so no one would catch on. Boone was intrigued that his new friend seemed to be growing more excited by the day.

Though there was also trouble and worry behind those dark eyes, PC kept saying, “I can’t wait, dude. I know I’m doing the right thing. For me, for Jose, for Chicago, for God.”

Boone mentioned Pastor Sosa and the idea that someday Pascual would have to get serious about his faith.

“You know how I’m doin’ it now, man? On the Internet. I downloaded a couple of Bibles—one of ’em was a modern translation in Spanish. I can understand it good. And there’s all kinds of stuff you can study on there. But yeah, I’d like to talk to somebody too. I just don’t know when I could ever do that. You and I both know that once this thing goes down and those guys get arrested, I’m gonna have to be held somewhere until I testify. Nobody’s gonna want to come where I am. And the prosecutor’s not going to want to risk revealing where I am. That would be the end for sure.”

“I’ll come.”

“You’re going to do this? Teach me? Bring me along?”

“If you want.”

“’Course I do! That would be great, before I get sent away.”

Even the prospect of that, though Boone knew it was coming, made him feel horrible. He knew there was no choice. A man as big and recognizable and notorious as Pascual Candelario would be signing his own death warrant if he tried to stay anywhere in the United States. He and his mother and his son would all have to go to Mexico or South America, and after the cartel was exposed by his testimony, South America would likely be out of the question too.

The FBI was working with the State Department on that eventuality. Boone could pray only that wherever he landed, Pascual would find a nice spot, a good church, and a set of supportive friends. Boone wondered how extensive plastic surgery would have to be to eliminate all of Candelario’s tats and perhaps even change the structure of his face. But even with that, he might be left looking like a giant Mexican with a traumatized face, and who would that fool?

The night before D-day the task force techies picked up the Chicago PD personnel most closely connected with the operation and drove them to a warehouse on the Southeast Side. There sat a plain beige van, looking like some tradesman’s dilapidated vehicle. It had mismatched tires, random dents and scrapes, an ancient broken radio antenna, and was windowless behind the front seat.

As Galloway, Keller, Wade, and Boone climbed in the back, however, it was as though they had entered a new world. Not only had the technicians loaded the vehicle with every gadget necessary, someone had designed it in such a way that all four men were able to sit comfortably and look over the shoulder of the middle-aged woman named Courtney who ran the controls.

“So we’ll be able to see the video feed when we’re close enough tomorrow?” Boone said.

“You can see it now,” Courtney said. “If the signal can reach us from 33.8 miles away, which is where we are now, it will easily reach a quarter mile tomorrow.” She hit a button and said through her headset, “SWAT and photo, are you in position? Task force is in place.”

Immediately on the screen appeared a clear view through the window of the building in Evanston. “Looking good,” she said. “And it’ll be light enough early tomorrow afternoon to give us good images, correct?”

“Affirmative,” came the reply.

“What kind of sound will we be able to get out of that building?” Boone said.

“Unless there’s some unusual interference we don’t know about, it should be close to what you’re about to hear. The photographer about eighty yards from the building and maybe a hundred feet off the ground has a phone just like the one you were issued.” She pressed her earphone closer and flipped another switch. “Mark, I’m putting you on speaker here. Can you give me a level?”

Mark said, “One, two, three, four, no gangbangers anymore.”

Besides making everyone smile, it sounded as if the man was in the van.

“Of course,” Courtney said, “your man will be on the ground, sea level. But the signal bounces off a satellite anyway, so I’m guessing you’re going to hear your meeting tomorrow as well as you just heard Mark.”

“Works for me,” Chief Galloway said. “Everybody back here at ten in the morning and we’ll head to our prearranged spot.”

“If it’s this clear,” Boone said, “why don’t we just monitor it from here?”

Galloway gave him a look. “You have my permission to camp out here, Detective Drake. I happen to have a team in place that could mean the end of organized crime in Chicago as we know it. I’d like to be close by when it goes down. How about you?”

“Ready to go at ten, sir.”

22

D-day

“If you have any trouble sleeping tonight,” Haeley told Boone at the end of the day Tuesday, “call me and I’ll bore you to death.”

“That’ll be the day. But I might take you up on that.”

“Anytime before midnight.”

Boone wanted to avoid having to bother her, so he vigorously went through his routine, including a hard run in the early evening, despite the cold. Settling in bed after eleven, he felt anything but drowsy. He dialed Haeley.

“Can’t sleep?” she said.

“That and I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“Sweet. What do you want to hear me say?”

“There’s a loaded question. How about that you’ll remember me fondly if this thing blows up tomorrow?”

“Not funny. You guys couldn’t be more prepared. It’ll go like clockwork. How does clockwork go, anyway?”

“We’re ready,” Boone said.

“You’ve been ready for weeks. How’s your man doing?”

“Funny thing. He’s been living a lie for quite a while now. He’s not going to miss that. But he knows his life will never be the same.”

“He’s doing a special thing.”

“Yeah, but you know how he’ll be thought of in his own community.”

“That’s no community, Boone. That’s a war zone. He has to know what he’s doing is right.”

“He does. It’s the only motivation he has. A lot of people he has known forever are going to go down in this.”

“And rightfully so,” she said. “Well, love, just know I will be thinking of you and praying for you. Past that, I don’t know what else will help you sleep.”

“What did you call me?”

“Sorry?” she said.

“You heard me. What did you call me?”

“You heard me, too, Boone. Good night.”

That didn’t allow Boone to sleep any easier, but it did give him something to think about other than what had monopolized his thinking for longer than he could remember.