Chicago Assault Read Online Free

was dying, and he knew he was dying. A helpless smile crossed his pale face. “The stupid kid,” he whispered. “A stupid opening to give you.”
    â€œYeah,” said Hawker. “It was pretty dumb.” He knelt beside the dying man. “Why did you do it?” he demanded. “Why did you kill Beckerman?”
    The Irishman studied the blood seeping from between his fingers in disbelief, then looked at Hawker. “Orders, of course. We had orders.”
    â€œWhose orders, damn it? Who would have you hit a guy like Beckerman?”
    Blood bubbled from the Irishman’s lips with the soft chuckle. “And why would I be telling the man who … who killed me?”
    His head slumped sideways, eyes frozen wide.
    He was dead.
    The hydraulic whine of the elevator told Hawker the police were on their way up. He knew he had to hurry.
    Quickly he went through the pockets of the three corpses. He didn’t know why Saul Beckerman had been killed, but it had all the signs of a professional job.
    Hawker didn’t like professional killers. But he had even less affection for the organizations that hired them.
    Hawker had spent the last year fighting such organizations. With the help of his wealthy friend, Jacob Montgomery Hayes, he had, in fact, dedicated himself to fighting any group anywhere in the country that preyed on innocent people.
    Saul Beckerman wasn’t a close friend. But, in an odd way, he had won Hawker’s respect. Saul’s note had said he wanted to see Hawker on important business.
    This business? The business that had ended his life?
    Maybe. No— probably . Beckerman knew Hawker’s reputation as a tough cop. The best, until he resigned because of all the bureaucratic bullshit that made dealing effectively and legally with crooks and killers damn near impossible.
    Beckerman knew he was in trouble, and he had also known that Hawker might be the one individual who could help him.
    So this was to be Hawker’s assignment: Save Saul Beckerman from unknown killers for unknown reasons.
    Hawker hadn’t even been hired, and already the assignment was blown.
    But it wasn’t too late for Hawker to go after the organization that had hired the killers.
    Retained by a dead man?
    Sure, Hawker thought as he surveyed the three corpses. Why not?
    Sometimes justice was the most demanding employer of all.
    Quickly, he went through their pockets. Money. Cigarettes. No identification.
    They had been careful. Damn careful. It was to be expected. They were professionals.
    But in the jacket pocket of the Irishman, Hawker did find something. It was a crumpled piece of paper. On the paper were written two names and two addresses.
    One was Saul Beckerman’s.
    The other was a name that stunned Hawker.
    It was James O’Neil of 2221 Archer Avenue.
    Jimmy O’Neil was James Hawker’s best friend.…

three
    Hawker got to Jimmy O’Neil’s place at just after one A.M .
    He had spent more than an hour dealing with the police, answering questions and trying to calm the beautiful Felicia Beckerman.
    The first plainclothes cop to arrive was a man Hawker knew well. He was Boone Chezick, a heavily muscled, dour man with whom Hawker had worked many times.
    They had had their differences. In fact, they had spent quite a few years hating each other’s guts. But, a few days before Hawker resigned from the force, they had come to a platform of truce. They still didn’t like each other much. But there was a grudging respect between the two men.
    In the last year, Chezick had been promoted from lieutenant to inspector, and transferred to the detective division.
    Inspector Chezick. Homicide. It sounded strange to Hawker.
    Chezick stepped out of the elevator. He wore an almost threadbare blue suit beneath his cheap trench coat. There were three cops in uniform behind him. Except for a slight widening of the eyes, he showed no surprise at seeing Hawker.
    He considered