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operation."
    "And task forces can get complicated."
    "That's right. Let me ask you a question. Can you find this guy?"
    "Maybe."
    "You have an angle, you cocksucker."
    "Maybe."
    "And the feds are fucking useless, right?"
    I shrugged. "I wouldn't say that. The feds are gonna use their methods, like they always do. Sometimes they work ..."
    "And usually they don't. If you don't want to drop someone down a hole, that's not a problem. Just get a line on him andwe're good. I'd offer your badge back, but you're too much of an asshole to accept it, right?"
    "Right."
    "Okay, then. We'll figure out something else for you. Just find this guy. Now get out of here so I can order dinner."
    Sometimes the less said, the better. Every instinct told me this was one of those times. So I left the mayor and his offer floating in the Grecian darkness.

CHAPTER 11

    R odriguez was waiting in the car outside Santorini. "How'd it go?" he said and turned over the engine. "How do you think?"
    "So what are you going to do?"
    "I'm gonna work it. You already knew that. So did Wilson."
    Rodriguez pulled into a line of early evening headlights streaming north on Halsted. "Let me guess, on your own terms?"
    I shrugged. "What are the feds focusing on?"
    "About what you'd expect. Physical evidence, witness statements. They're developing an offender profile, gonna run all their data through NCIC, VICAP, and every other database they can think of."
    "What about the rifle?"
    "Preliminary from Ballistics established it as the sniper kill. No prints. They're running a trace right now."
    "And the apartment?"
    "Should have some information in the morning. By the way, the morning should be a lot of fun. City's putting uniforms on all the CTA platforms. Plainclothes on board the buses."
    "That's a lot of manpower."
    "It gets better. The Bureau wants to put its own teams up on the rooftops. From Evanston to Ninety-fifth. North, south, east, and west. Along every mile of L track."
    "Snipers?"
    "Whole nine yards. Balaclava, painted faces, rifles with scopes, all that crap."
    "Maybe they'll just scare the shit out of these guys."
    "Or the half million people who use the L every day. Wilson didn't like it. Said he wasn't going to turn his city into some unholy fucking vision of Baghdad."
    "He'll be changing his tune if another body turns up," I said.
    Rodriguez grunted. We slipped across the tip of Goose Island, clattered over Clybourn Avenue, and took a left onto Lincoln.
    "What's the story with Lawson?" I said.
    Rodriguez chuckled. "Thought you might get to that. They call her Sister Katherine."
    "Why's that?"
    "You remember Father Mark?"
    "Doesn't ring a bell."
    "Father Mark was the pastor at St. Cecilia's over on the Southwest Side. Took the parish for a little more than a million dollars over five years."
    "Heartwarming."
    "Yeah, he was shorting the collection money, using parish credit cards, everything. Lawson was the one who got onto him. Spent six months hip deep in church records looking for loose cash. Turns out this guy had a second home in California and three Beemers. When Lawson grabbed him, he was planning to sell the rectory and buy himself a boat."
    "That's her big score?"
    "That's what she's known for."
    "She a climber?" I said.
    "Depends on who you talk to. Some say she's always wanted to be a player in Washington. Just never made the cut."
    "And the rest?"
    "One agent who's been around awhile told me the exact opposite. Says the woman is right where she wants to be. Says she's got big-time pull downtown, but no one is sure with whom or why." Rodriguez glanced across the car. "Bottom line, this guy says: 'Don't fuck with Katherine. She'll ruin your week.'"
    "I'll keep that in mind."
    Rodriguez flicked his turn signal, took a right onto Southport Avenue, and pulled to the corner at Eddy.
    "Tomorrow?" I said and reached for the door handle.
    "Hang on." Rodriguez killed the engine. My hand slipped off the handle, and I pushed back in my seat.
    "What is