Campanelli: Sentinel (25 page)

              Frank looked back to verify that Williams had followed. He had. By the time he turned his head forward again, he found that the person calling him was the Deputy Chief of the Organized Crime Division, Lorenzo Alonso. The two had not gotten along in the past.

              “Good morning, sir,” Frank greeted with a nod, keeping his face carefully neutral.

              “You two are early, but that works out,” Alonso returned. “Come on this way,” he finished and turned from them.

              The trio stepped through two glass doors underneath a shelf which appeared to be of marble. On top of the shelf was a glass sign bearing words in white: “Office of the Mayor.” Frank saw a CPD officer sitting behind a desk on the far wall, next to an American flag. The immense circular bronze seal of the Mayor’s Office hung behind him.

              Frank and Marcus stepped quickly behind Alonso through a doorway to the left and into a corridor. Several closed office doors were set into the wall on their right. Just beyond these was the large, high ceilinged Mayor’s office. Campanelli was not surprised to see Chief Sebastian and Superintendent Dehner standing behind the desk on either side of Mayor Jameson. Additionally, there were several high ranking heads of the CPD including Traffic Control, SWAT and the Bureau of Patrol milling about as well.

              “
I’ve never seen so many stars in one room before
,” Williams sent to Campanelli in text.

              “
Same here
,” Frank replied. The exchange was merely a distraction from his searching of faces. He could not find Chief of Detectives Dmitri Vanek, his former boss, anywhere.

              Alonso stepped alongside Sebastian and spoke loud enough for Dehner and Jameson to hear. “Captain Campanelli is here.”

              “Ah! Captain Campanelli?” the Mayor called into the crowd, looking amongst them for the detective.

              Frank stepped up and stopped alongside the great desk. “Here, sir.”

              Jameson struck out a hand and Campanelli took it. The political head of Chicago’s grip was strong. “I want to thank you and…uh…,” he stumbled.

              “Williams, sir,” Sebastian chimed in.

              “Detective Williams,” he nodded, “for the initiative you both showed in the investigation of Maximilian DeSilva’s church,” he said and dropped his hand. Williams stepped up and shook Jameson’s hand as well. “Earl, do we have everyone here?” he addressed the OCD Chief.

              Sebastian glanced at the empty corridor behind Williams. It was plain to Campanelli that Vanek’s absence had not gone unnoticed. “No, sir, but I think that we need to proceed.”

              “Very well,” Jameson nodded and stepped to the side of his own desk as did Dehner.

              “I’m sending to all the commanders and chiefs in this room their individual orders for this morning’s proceedings,” Sebastian announced and paused just long enough to send the file. He then activated the holographic projector behind the Mayor’s desk, sending a map of the immediate area upon the wall.

              “No doubt you’ve seen that the Pedway has been closed to outside traffic. The preacher is expected to speak from the stage here,” Earl Sebastian directed as he pointed to the red rectangle placed on the east end of Daley Plaza. Frank knew from his extracurricular research on the city that the spot was the former resting place of a statue by Picasso, reclaimed for its materials more than a dozen years prior in an ironic, ‘Pro-Exodus’ public assembly. “We are expecting the attendance of his so-called rally,” he spoke with distaste, “to be about twenty thousand. There are vendors setting up here,” his hand rested on the Thompson Plaza, the former site of the State of Illinois Building. “We expect some officers of the Church of the…uh…well…whatever it’s called, to be holding some of their own speeches over here. There will be some musicians as well. We’ve noted some smaller stages being put up over there.”

              Sebastian went through the details of the security plan, showing the places where officers would stand, where others were to patrol and his opinion of what they all were to expect. After some minutes, he finally got to the arrest of DeSilva himself.

              “We will let him get through his speech, or at least several minutes of it, then at the Mayor Jameson’s signal, he and his security detail will emerge from the entrance ramp of the Daley Center and move to the stage,” said Sebastian.

              Frank was utterly shocked at this bold, unnecessary and foolish move. He looked to his left and up into his partner’s face. Marcus did not look happy, either. His head shook back and forth almost imperceptibly.

              “While everyone’s attention is on the Mayor, Captain Campanelli, his partner and other officers will move in. Mayor Jameson will announce DeSilva’s crimes to the audience and the Captain will have the honor of placing the cuffs on Mister DeSilva.”

              Frank’s face blushed red, not with the embarrassment of his name being mentioned, but from pure anger. Marcus looked over at his partner and where others saw shyness, he recognized it for what it was.

              “Frank, please don’t,” Marcus whispered.

              Campanelli could no longer hold his tongue. “Excuse me, Chief Sebastian, Mister Mayor,” he called out a bit too loudly as he raised his hand to speak.

              “Captain?” Sebastian said, straining to be polite. He stared hard into his subordinate’s face, but it did nothing to quiet him.

              “I would like to go on record, if there is such a thing anymore, and protest this entire plan,” Frank announced. He heard a few gasps from the gathering, a groan from his partner and his own heart beating.

              “Campanelli…,” Sebastian tried again to interrupt.

              “With all due respect,” Campanelli spat as he returned the OCD Chief’s hard stare before shifting his eyes to Mayor Jameson, “this plan puts the mayor at risk, cops at risk and innocent citizens at risk.”

              “Risk of what, Captain? Violence?!” Jameson suddenly exclaimed. “They’re at risk of that already. The sooner that this man is made an example of, the more success law enforcement will have in the future!”

              “Sir,” Campanelli pressed, “I’ve seen this kinda thing before…in New York.”

              “Frank,” the mayor interjected, lifting himself to his full height though still two inches shorter than Campanelli. He spread his hands out, palms upward and stepped around his desk. “Frank, I’ve read your service records,” Victor Jameson said calmly as his eyes softened, “I think many people in this room have. We know and respect your opinions. But, we’re up against the wall here.

              “People are leaving our city in droves,” he touched Frank’s shoulder as he spoke to everyone in the gathering. “They’re also dying of flu and cancer. Stuff we thought we’d done away with decades ago. Captain, everyone…,” the charming Mayor of Chicago pushed on as he stepped back behind his desk, “this is a…Hail Mary play, if you will. We have to put a stop to this human trafficking and soon, gentlemen. Soon, before there is no more Chicago.

              “Take a long look outside your windows at our skyline. We don’t have any more great skyscrapers…hell! The Daley Center next door is what? Our third tallest building? Fourth? Our hospitals are full. So are our jails,” Victor leaned on his desk upon both fists and thrust his right into the thick wood as he spoke his last point. “We…have…to…preserve…our…authority…to save…Chicago!”

              To Campanelli’s chagrin, this received applause by everyone in attendance. Frank could not help but roll his eyes and set his left elbow into the palm of the opposite hand, rubbing his forehead with his left hand in appalled amazement.

              “So I thank Captain Campanelli for his concern. It is quite valid. But I would sooner die today, than see a two-faced sonofabitch like Maximilian DeSilva go free!”

              More applause.

             
You got to be fucking kidding me
, Frank thought and shook his head.

              The rest of the meeting went in one ear and out the other for Campanelli. As Victor Jameson spoke and the others took turns briefing, he read the orders that Sebastian had sent moments earlier.

              He was convinced that it was going to be a nightmare.

***

              The briefing over, the collection of CPD brass followed Campanelli and Williams out of Mayor Jameson’s office. Frank had no sooner lifted his finger from the elevator call button than a message from Earl Sebastian came through on his
CAPS-Link
.

              “
Frank, if you ever speak to the Mayor like that again, I’ll see to it that you’ll have to move back to New York to get a job working security
!”

              “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Campanelli grumbled as he deleted it from his inbox.

              “What?” Williams asked from his side.

              “Nothin’,” Frank dismissed as he stepped into the car. Marcus and a handful of officers and security came in with them. None of them had been in the briefing.

              Once they arrived in the sub-basement, Frank followed the others that had gotten on the elevator behind him into the corridor that led to the Pedway. He was in no hurry as it was only just after nine in the morning. He sauntered along the glossy cement floor, making it hard for his long-legged partner to not outdistance him.

              “I think you’re right, Frank.”

              “I hope I’m wrong.”

              “Me, too.”

              “We
should
be with the SWAT team, taking down Ignatola,” Campanelli added. “Instead, we’re stuck with the mayor as the centerpiece to his stunt.”

              “I agree,” Marcus said as they left the Pedway and entered the Daley Center’s garage. “Let’s just hope that DeSilva’s following is less than we think and that the general mood isn’t as volatile as we witnessed at the Church. You know people, Frank. For the most part, they verbalize their frustration and rarely act upon it.”

              “Yeah,” Campanelli said after a moment of thought. “Let’s hope.”

              The two detectives took an elevator to the ground floor and sauntered into the lobby of the Daley Center. There they stood, watching the scores of DeSilva faithful wander through the plaza. It was impossible to view the fountains through the mass of people.

              As the ground level of the Daley Center was little more than a wide bank of elevators at its core, the perimeter of the building was comprised entirely of glass. The crowd could see the building was full of police and that they, in turn, were being closely observed. Many of the gathering carried signs which denounced Jameson in the most indelicate terms while others declared DeSilva their savior of the times. A few even taunted the officers inside with muffled shouts as they pounded the glass.

              All of this worried Campanelli as he was hoping it was worrying the mayor. For the first time in many years, he felt butterflies in his stomach as he watched the angry mass of humanity. From the bits and pieces of radio traffic that could be heard from the uniformed officers’ equipment, the department was responding with crowd control officers.

              Frank put his hands behind his back and walked from the southwest corner to the northwest. Williams did not leave his side. From this new vantage point, Campanelli could see that there were many people wandering through Thompson Plaza, just northwest of City Hall. These people appeared to be more interested in the gathering of vendors and musicians than anything else.

              “Here comes another bus load, Frank,” Marcus murmured from his side.

              Campanelli marveled at the beautiful condition of the ancient vehicle, certainly a leftover from the early twenty-first century. The black and silver bus was of the over-the-road variety, complete with storage compartments along its belly. Just below the tinted windows was painted in great, old fashioned cursive, “The Church of the Divine Intervention.” The door opened, letting more of the DeSilva followers into the plaza.

              Frank heard something interesting from a passing patrolman. “Excuse me, officer. What was that I just heard?”

              The policeman stopped and turned to Campanelli. He looked him over just long enough to notice the star clipped to his jacket before answering. “Helo patrol,” he explained in a Chicago accent much thicker than Campanelli’s. “Pilot sez both plazas’r jam packed with maybe twenty thow-sand. Crowd control’s movin’ inta place, tryin’ to surround this plaza. I dunno,” the officer finished with a slanted grin of doubt and a shrug. “I’ve seen worse.”

              “Okay, thanks.” Campanelli gave the officer his casual scout salute.

              “
Places everyone
,” came an audio message through the
CAPS-Link
device. It was from Sebastian.

              “Let’s go,” Frank said and strode to the nearest elevator with Williams right behind him. In moments, they were again in the garage and making their way to the garage entrance ramp, which was now completely closed to vehicles.