Page 10 of Equalizer
“Ghost.” Owen listened to his spectral snitch. “Several men have been watching the Pullman all day. They haven’t tried toget in, but they don’t have a reason to hang around.” He silently thanked the spirit as footsteps sounded nearby.
“Don’t run.” A man’s voice came from behind them. “We just want to talk.”
“An invitation delivered by messenger is the usual process,” Calvin observed in a dry tone.
“Yeah, well. Witches do things their way,” the man answered. “We’re going up the street to Barone’s Restaurant. They’ve got the back room ready for us. Don’t cause a ruckus, and you’ll be on your way in no time.”
The ghosts had vanished, making Owen wonder who the witch was and why the spirits had fled. He and Calvin exchanged a look, weighing the odds of putting up a fight. Meeting in a public place made it less likely that the men simply wanted to kill them, Owen thought.
Then again, he’d been wrong before.
Owen wondered if they would encounter Winston on their way or if he would see them and realize something was wrong, but they did not cross paths with their valet. That made him worry that Winston might have been waylaid. Winston could hold his own in a fight, but whoever wanted a word with them seemed to have brought a small army. That suggested one thing.
Chicago Mob.
Chapter 3
Calvin
Barone’s Restaurant was a tidy family-run establishment tucked into a quiet side street. Neat lettering on the windows advertised homemade sauces and pasta, pastries, and veal on Sundays. The aroma of onions, garlic, and fresh tomatoes made Calvin’s stomach rumble when they walked inside.
Wooden wainscoting, a pressed tin ceiling, and a checkerboard tile floor suggested that the restaurant had been around for a long time. In the back, Calvin caught a glimpse of brass fixtures and the mirrored backsplash of a bar.
“We have a private room. We’re friends with the owner,” the man said.
An older woman with gray hair and a matronly dark blue dress nodded to them and returned to wiping off tables. The other workers paid them no mind. Whoever the toughs were who brought them here, the restaurant staff didn’t seem to be afraid.
Maybe the gangsters are part of the family too.
Calvin and Owen walked shoulder to shoulder down the hallway toward the bar, and he finally caught a glimpse oftheir hosts in the large backbar mirror. Four dark-haired men followed them, all muscular and rough. Calvin felt certain they had guns, and even though no one had tried to take his weapon, the odds weren’t good for a fight in close quarters, especially with civilians nearby.
They want to talk? We’ll talk.
A young busboy ushered them into a private dining room. No food or drink on the table suggested this would be a short meeting. At least, Calvin hoped that was the meaning.
Calvin sized up their hosts with the seasoned eye from his wild days. These men seemed a little too old and a bit too organized to be mere gang members, which lent credence to the mobster theory. Oddly, that made him feel a little better about their situation.
One of the bodyguards gestured for Calvin and Owen to sit. A man about Calvin’s height with Macassared hair and an aura of authority sat across from them. Two guards stood on either side.
“What brings the feds to Chicago this time?” he asked.
Word travels fast. Did he hear from the cops, or did someone track our Pullman car?
“Official business,” Calvin replied pleasantly, not wanting to make it too easy. The look he and Owen traded confirmed they were both of the same mind, to see what information they could get from the mobster while giving up as little themselves as they could.
“You can do better than that.” Their host’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Here. A gesture of goodwill. My name is Luca Conti. I am head of security for the Conti and Bianchi families. I take my job very seriously. We like things to stay very quiet, and we take care of our own problems. So…Agents Sharps and Springfield—what brings you to Chicago?”
When they got out of here—ifthey got out—Calvin was going to talk to Winston about how Conti could have found out whathe knew. But first, Calvin weighed stonewalling versus laying his cards on the table. A glance from Owen told him his partner would follow his lead, whatever he chose.
“We’re here because of all the missing bodies. Too many have been stolen to just be supplying medical schools,” Calvin said. “We want to find out who’s taking them and what’s being done with the corpses.”
Of all the answers Calvin could have given, the truth seemed to set Conti back on his heels. Calvin imagined Conti knew of other illegal goings-on that might have drawn attention, and the surprise showed in his face.
“I am involved in many business ventures throughout this side of the city. That usually keeps me well informed. I did not realize we had an epidemic of dead people walking away,” Conti replied, likely using humor to cover being surprised.
“We doubt they’re walking,” Owen spoke up. “Most are taken before they’re even buried. They’ve been vanishing from hospitals, settlement houses, and the county morgue. People no one would usually miss. But someone has a reason for taking them, and our bosses want to know what that is.”
Conti remained quiet for a moment, with a look that suggested he was taking them seriously. “So what? They’re dead, and they don’t have families, or their families aren’t involved. If no one cares—why do you? I understand the disrespect, but where’s the harm?”
