The Third Rail Read Online Free
Author: Michael Harvey
Tags: Fiction, General, Suspense, Mystery & Detective, Crime, Private Investigators, Hard-Boiled, Chicago (Ill.), Criminal snipers
see me anyway. And don't worry. I have my eye on you, but not through the scope of a weapon. That's long gone, so tell Chicago's finest not to look too hard for it."
"What do you want?"
"What do I want?" Nelson snorted into the cell. "I don't want you dead. Could have checked that off the to-do list today. No, you're going to suffer a little bit first. A matter of honor, I think."
"What would you know about honor?"
"Homer pegged it as a zero-sum game. The more you suffer, the greater my glory."
Kelly's silhouette seemed to stiffen at the classical reference. "You're gonna die, asshole."
"Undoubtedly. The question is: How many am I taking into the hole with me?"
Nelson cut the line and waited. Kelly flipped his phone shut and leaned across to the detective named Rodriguez. Nelson could see them talking. Then the detective reached for a radio and held it close to his lips. Nelson unplugged the adapter he'd used to alter his voice. He tossed his cell phone into the Dumpster he was crouched behind and stripped off the skin-color gloves he had on. Then he pulled out a shopping cart filled with old cans and newspapers and began to push it down the alley. Somewhere a church bell struck twelve. The old man picked up his pace. If he hustled, he could still make the 12:30 mass.
CHAPTER 7
I watched as a woman standing ten feet away ordered a skim mocha, no whip. Rodriguez was whispering into his radio, telling someone somewhere that the killer, or maybe his accomplice, had just given me a ring. The woman was in her early thirties, with light brown hair tied back into a ponytail and a large emerald cat pinned to her dark blue coat. She smiled as the tall, angular barista pushed her drink across the counter. Then the woman took a sip and found her way to a corner table looking out at the street. She pulled out a paperback, tucked one leg underneath her, and began to read. It looked pretty peaceful, pretty nice. I wanted nothing more than to join her. Then Rodriguez got done with his radio machinations and gave me a tap on the shoulder.
"We gotta go."
I knew that was coming. As we exited the Starbucks, four cruisers sealed off the block. Ten cops got out and began to comb alleys, roust bums, and shake down regular folks on the street. I figured too little, too late.
"You got a car?" Rodriguez said.
"No."
"Good." Rodriguez popped the locks on his Crown Vic. "Get in."
Five minutes later, we were out of the Loop and headed west.
"Not going to headquarters?" I said.
The detective shook his head. "Looks like the feds might be taking over. Possible terrorist acts."
"Bet downtown loved that."
"Brass doesn't mind. If it goes well, we'll stick our nose in the trough, suck up as much glory as we can. If we have bodies stacking up on L platforms in a week and a half, we got someone to blame it on."
"Don't you love your job?"
"Funny guy. Right now you're the star of the show."
"Great."
"That's right. Now, talk to me about the guy on the phone. Was he legit?"
"You tell me."
Rodriguez took a left onto Canal. "A patrol found a rifle in the trash. Remington with a scope."
"He told me we wouldn't find it," I said.
"Guess he lied. Try to get over it."
"How about ammo?"
Rodriguez took a right and accelerated down the block. "We'll know more when we pull the lead out of our victim. But there were three rounds in the rifle."
"And?"
"Black Hills Gold, .308 Winchester. Just like your boy said."
"This guy wasn't our shooter."
"How do you figure?"
"He knew we were sitting in a Starbucks, which means he was close by, watching."
"So?"
"Who's gonna shoot up an L train, then hang around the scene and call me for kicks?"
"Then he's our accomplice?" Rodriguez said. I shrugged as we came up on a line of traffic stopped at a red light.
"One more thing." Rodriguez looked over. "They found a second body downtown."
"On the train?"
The detective shook his head. "Building on Lake. Building manager got his throat cut. Apartment looks over
"What do you want?"
"What do I want?" Nelson snorted into the cell. "I don't want you dead. Could have checked that off the to-do list today. No, you're going to suffer a little bit first. A matter of honor, I think."
"What would you know about honor?"
"Homer pegged it as a zero-sum game. The more you suffer, the greater my glory."
Kelly's silhouette seemed to stiffen at the classical reference. "You're gonna die, asshole."
"Undoubtedly. The question is: How many am I taking into the hole with me?"
Nelson cut the line and waited. Kelly flipped his phone shut and leaned across to the detective named Rodriguez. Nelson could see them talking. Then the detective reached for a radio and held it close to his lips. Nelson unplugged the adapter he'd used to alter his voice. He tossed his cell phone into the Dumpster he was crouched behind and stripped off the skin-color gloves he had on. Then he pulled out a shopping cart filled with old cans and newspapers and began to push it down the alley. Somewhere a church bell struck twelve. The old man picked up his pace. If he hustled, he could still make the 12:30 mass.
CHAPTER 7
I watched as a woman standing ten feet away ordered a skim mocha, no whip. Rodriguez was whispering into his radio, telling someone somewhere that the killer, or maybe his accomplice, had just given me a ring. The woman was in her early thirties, with light brown hair tied back into a ponytail and a large emerald cat pinned to her dark blue coat. She smiled as the tall, angular barista pushed her drink across the counter. Then the woman took a sip and found her way to a corner table looking out at the street. She pulled out a paperback, tucked one leg underneath her, and began to read. It looked pretty peaceful, pretty nice. I wanted nothing more than to join her. Then Rodriguez got done with his radio machinations and gave me a tap on the shoulder.
"We gotta go."
I knew that was coming. As we exited the Starbucks, four cruisers sealed off the block. Ten cops got out and began to comb alleys, roust bums, and shake down regular folks on the street. I figured too little, too late.
"You got a car?" Rodriguez said.
"No."
"Good." Rodriguez popped the locks on his Crown Vic. "Get in."
Five minutes later, we were out of the Loop and headed west.
"Not going to headquarters?" I said.
The detective shook his head. "Looks like the feds might be taking over. Possible terrorist acts."
"Bet downtown loved that."
"Brass doesn't mind. If it goes well, we'll stick our nose in the trough, suck up as much glory as we can. If we have bodies stacking up on L platforms in a week and a half, we got someone to blame it on."
"Don't you love your job?"
"Funny guy. Right now you're the star of the show."
"Great."
"That's right. Now, talk to me about the guy on the phone. Was he legit?"
"You tell me."
Rodriguez took a left onto Canal. "A patrol found a rifle in the trash. Remington with a scope."
"He told me we wouldn't find it," I said.
"Guess he lied. Try to get over it."
"How about ammo?"
Rodriguez took a right and accelerated down the block. "We'll know more when we pull the lead out of our victim. But there were three rounds in the rifle."
"And?"
"Black Hills Gold, .308 Winchester. Just like your boy said."
"This guy wasn't our shooter."
"How do you figure?"
"He knew we were sitting in a Starbucks, which means he was close by, watching."
"So?"
"Who's gonna shoot up an L train, then hang around the scene and call me for kicks?"
"Then he's our accomplice?" Rodriguez said. I shrugged as we came up on a line of traffic stopped at a red light.
"One more thing." Rodriguez looked over. "They found a second body downtown."
"On the train?"
The detective shook his head. "Building on Lake. Building manager got his throat cut. Apartment looks over
Readers choose
Trista Ann Michaels
Jennifer East
Clayton Rawson
Peter Robinson
Dawn Atkins
Adriana Trigiani
Avery Flynn
Cara Crescent
Andersen Prunty
Emma McEvoy