Free Sleep Tight by Jeffrey Jacobson Page B

planet. They’re everywhere. And they’re gonna be too, long after we’re gone. That’s what I call job security. Long as you stay outta the boss’s way, you got yourself a job for life. Nobody sane wants it, I’ll tell you that much.”
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    Then, that night in April, a couple of big guys were waiting in the locker room. They wore irritated scowls and name tags that claimed they were union reps. One said, “We understand you two have the highest numbers of dead rats in Streets and Sans.”
    The other one said with a flat smile, “Couple stone-cold killers.”
    The situation was a little dicey, because it was considered bad form to always be outshining your fellow employees, so most nights they took it easy, hanging out in the city employee bar. Still, Don said, “So what? We’re doing our job. Any problems with that?”
    The first union rep spread his hands and shook his head. “No. No problems. But things have changed, at least for the time being. We were sent down here to talk to everybody, explain the situation.”
    The second said, “No more dead rats. The little fuckers got a phone call from the governor. Let ’em be. Until further notice.”
    â€œSays who?” Don asked.
    â€œDo we really have to spell it out for you? And does it matter?”
    â€œGuess not,” Don said.
    â€œAnd it should go without saying, but we want to make this perfectly clear that this is to be kept between us. The wrong person hears that the rats aren’t on the city’s hit list anymore, they might jump to the wrong conclusions.”
    â€œLook at it as a reward for a job well done,” the second one said.
    There was no point in arguing. The message had been received loud and clear. From that night on, Don and Tommy made a show of putting out traps for the first hour or so, despite the fact that there was no bait in them. Then they would head to the bar and never leave until morning. The instructions were that simple. They would spend the night drinking beer, watching CSN, unless it was golf, then they would begrudgingly switch over to ESPN and that was the cue for everybody in the bar to argue loudly about all the other cities and sports besides Chicago.
    Most everybody who worked in vermin control in Streets and Sans knew that Lee was out there, pulling strings, fucking with their jobs, but nobody wanted to talk about it much. Tommy thought it was a hell of a way to earn a paycheck, but so far, Kimmy had kept her end of the bargain, and had not blocked his visits.

C HAPTER 15
    9:13 PM
    April 17
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    â€œNow what do you suppose these fucking idiots are doing?” Ed asked, taking a thoughtful sip from Sam’s flask.
    Sam took the flask, leaned back, and got a better angle in the side mirror. Two blocks behind them, a Chicago Police cruiser jerked to a stop at the corner of Garfield and Halsted. They had the flashers on, sending jittery blue lights across the entire intersection. No sirens though. Two uniformed patrolmen burst out of the car.
    The guy Ed and Sam had been watching didn’t even bother to run. The cops slammed him on the pavement, cuffed his hands behind his back, and threw him in the back of the cruiser. They jumped into the front and took off. The traffic began to move again, and people ventured away from the buildings and started back across the street.
    The whole thing took less than thirty seconds. It was as if a rock had been dropped into a puddle. For a moment, the waves splashed out, disturbing the surface, but before long the water slid back into place, obliterating all traces of the rock.
    â€œGoddamnit,” Ed said.
    â€œWe aren’t the only ones picking forbidden fruit, brother.”
    â€œHe’s not holding.” Every cop knew this. Very few drug dealers were dumb enough to stand out in the open and conduct business. They just arranged the deal, and sent the customers to the right spot