"Still got my old one."

"-and guns-"

"Got one of those, too."

"-and bulletproof vests."

"Two out of three ain't bad."

"Hey, shit for brains? I'm not joking." Lightner looked like he was going to get up and leave. I think he was but changed his mind. "Be serious for a second," he went on. "You know what I'm saying is right. You're chasing down killers and you're talking about strong-arming the most dangerous assassin in the most dangerous street gang in the city. Like you're going to walk away from that unharmed? You'd-" He caught himself, then decided to continue. "You'd never do this if your wife and daughter were still alive. Sorry to bring that up, but you wouldn't."

"So maybe I wouldn't."

He threw up his hands. "So your life doesn't mean anything anymore?"

"My life is different, that's all. Yeah, I'd be more cautious if I had Tal and Emily. That doesn't mean what I'm doing is wrong."

"Yeah? And what are you doing?" he asked. "Say Kiko gives you a name. He won't, but say he does. What are you going to do? Kill that guy? I mean, even if you get Kiko to talk, it's not like he's going to testify in court. You're never going to have the evidence you need to convict whoever this is. So what's the plan, J? When you figure out who killed Ernesto? You going to kill that person?"

I removed some money from my pocket and threw it on the table. This conversation was going nowhere.

"Just-all I'm saying, J-take a breath, cool down, and get yourself some help. You need some professional help."

"Hey, you're a professional. I'm seeking your help."

"You know what I mean."

"Give me the damn address, Lightner."

I knew he'd give it up. He was concerned for me, which was sugar-sweet of him, but the better part of him was as contrarian and stubborn as I. He pushed the piece of paper in front of me. "Let me go with you," he said. "When you talk to this asshole."

I made a show of considering it, but I wasn't going to involve Joel. Better just the two of us, I thought, Kiko and me.

The more I thought about it, the surer I became: These murders were connected. Whoever had Adalbert Wozniak and Ernesto Ramirez killed was responsible for Greg Connolly's murder, too. Solving one murder would solve them all.

I had two possible sources of information. I had Federico Hurtado, the notorious Kiko. And I had the people surrounding the governor, if I could penetrate that inner circle.

I'd made an inroad on the first front: I now had Kiko's address.

If things went as planned, I'd be good on the second front very soon.

62.

TWO DAYS LATER, I CALLED CHARLIE AND TOLD HIM we had to meet. We found a restaurant in between our offices and got an early lunch.

"I just got a call from the U.S. attorney's office," I said.

I couldn't deny, on some level, a sense of satisfaction at watching Charlie's face go bleach white. "And?" he asked.

"They want to talk to me about the Higgins Sanitation contract," I said. "You remember that one? There were two lower bidders who I disqual-"

"I remember, I remember. And that's it?" he asked. "That's all they mentioned?"

"That's all they mentioned."

He fell back against the seat cushion. "Shit."

"I can defend that," I said. "I can."

He was quiet for a long time. I'm sure all kinds of thoughts entered his head. I wasn't sure if one of those thoughts included getting rid of me, a potential witness against him. A liability, like Tucker had said.

"You're going to talk to them?" he asked.

"Sure. Why would I take Five? It would look wrong."

"You need a lawyer." Charlie opened his cell phone and worked it. "Norman Hudzik," he said. "You know him?"

"Heard the name. Charlie, I can get my own-"

"You want Norm."

It was what I expected. Charlie would want someone he could trust to handle my representation when the U.S. attorney interviewed me. He wanted eyes and ears in there.

"Don't worry about his fee," Charlie said. "Don't worry about that."

"I wasn't."

"Charlie Cimino for Norman," he said into his cell phone. "Tell him to call as soon as possible. He has my number." He closed his phone. "Don't worry about this."

"I'm not worried."

"Maybe you should be," he said.

"You're not making any sense, Charlie."

"Shit. Shit." He drummed his fingers on the table. "We'll get together and talk to Norm. We'll put our heads together."

"We'll be fine," I said.

"Norm's good," Charlie said. "Norm's good."

We skipped lunch. Charlie was in no mood to eat. I went back to my office.

But first, I stopped in at Suite 410.

"Norman Hudzik," I said to Lee Tucker. "Now try not to fuck this up."

63.

NORMAN HUDZIK HAD SPENT THIRTY YEARS REPRESENTING criminals, mostly of the white-collar and organized-crime variety. He was large in every way: Tall, heavy, with a baritone voice and a charismatic confidence. His hair was a mess of gray and black, a swooping part and too long in the back.

Circumstances notwithstanding, I liked him. I found myself more inclined toward the defense bar these days, probably because I was now a member. Something about standing up to power and being a contrarian found a safe harbor in my soul.

I'd told Norman that the prosecutor who had phoned me was Brian Ridgeway, someone with whom I wasn't acquainted. Norm had lit up at the mention of the name. "I go back with Brian. We tried Capparelli together. Brian's a dear friend. I can handle Brian."

That's why Chris Moody had picked Brian. We wanted someone Hudzik knew, someone with whom he would feel comfortable. The way I'd heard it, Brian Ridgeway did not exactly consider Norm a "dear" friend, but the relationship was cordial. Good enough. It made Hudzik happy and it made Charlie happy, as the three of us had sat in Norm's office yesterday. We'd spent several hours, during which time Norm Hudzik had given me about twenty ways to say, "I don't recall."

Now we sat in the U.S. attorney's reception area, Norm and I, waiting for the meeting with Assistant U.S. Attorney Brian Ridgeway.

"I think I know this guy!" Norm bellowed, as Ridgeway appeared from a doorway.

"Norm! Good to see you. Good morning, Mr. Kolarich. Brian Ridgeway."

"Nice to meet you," I said.

We went back to a conference room, where prosecutor and defense attorney spent ten minutes catching up, while I bided my time. Norm did most of the talking, which was good, because I wasn't sure this guy Ridgeway was a very good bullshit artist.

"Jason and I were a little surprised by the call," Norm said, settling in. "What does Jason Kolarich have to tell you?"

"Well, it's just one of those things I gotta say I did." Ridgeway waved a conciliatory hand. "Well, here." He slid a document in front of me. It was the memo I had written for Charlie, disqualifying the two bidders who should have received the sanitation contract instead of Higgins. It was the final version, the one I rewrote to impress Charlie and gain his trust.

"Mr. Kolarich, did you write this memo?"

"Call me Jason."

"I'd prefer to call you Mr. Kolarich."

"I'd prefer you called me Jason."

Ridgeway looked over at Hudzik, like What the hell?

"The answer is yes," I said. "I gave this to the chairman of the PCB, my client. That makes this privileged, last I checked."

Ridgeway hemmed and hawed a moment for good measure. "Greg Connolly gave it to us. So don't worry about a privilege."

"Well, Brian, I'm a lawyer, so I'm going to worry about little things like attorney-client privilege, if it's okay with you."

Ridgeway paused, shooting another look at Hudzik.

"He told you that the client gave the document to him," Norm said, putting a hand on my arm. "So let's go ahead and answer."

I thought for a moment, or more accurately, I pretended to think. "Okay," I said. "Yes, I wrote it."

"Who told you to write it?"

I shrugged. "It would have been a normal part of my job. I was an outside counsel to the PCB."

"Did anyone-well, here. Did anyone talk to you about your conclusions?"

I shrugged again. "Not that I can remember. You mean, someone disagreeing with something I wrote?"

"Or discussing your conclusions before you made them?"

"Before I reached my conclusion?" I drew back. "You mean, like, telling me what to say?"

"That's what I mean."

"Absolutely not. Absolutely not. I would quit first." I explained to him, briefly, how it was my job to review the qualifications for winning bidders and to memorialize my conclusions in writing. I told him that we had a file on every bidder, including its history with the state, any previous lawsuits or other concerns related to their work, and the like.

"After reviewing everything," I said, "I reached my conclusion entirely on my own. One of the bidders that was DQ'd might disagree with it, but they always disagree, and they usually sue. But nobody whispered in my ear. Nobody told me to say this or that. I stand completely by what I've written here, and the decision was mine and only mine."

Ridgeway nodded, like that was what he expected me to say. "Okay, good enough. I appreciate you coming in."

I looked at my lawyer and back at Ridgeway. "That's it?" I asked.

Norm said, "This is why he came down here?"

"Oh, you know how it goes," said Ridgeway. "Gotta play out every string."

"What's the string?" I asked. "I don't like anyone questioning my integrity."

"No, no, it's nothing like-" Ridgeway raised his hands. He looked at both of us, like he wanted to say more.

"Any chance you can enlighten us?" Norm asked. "It doesn't sound like there's much to this."

Ridgeway let out a laugh. "That's an understatement."

"Oh, c'mon, Brian. You brought us all the way down here."

Ridgeway paused, then out of the corner of his mouth, he said to Norm, "Off the record?"

"Sure, of course."

"This guy who runs this state board-Connolly? Greg Connolly? You guys friends?"

"Hardly knew him," I said.