Free The Third Rail by Michael Harvey Page B

where they've been ..." I shrugged. "Maybe they left some footprints."
    "Sounds like a plan," Hubert said. "Let's get going."
    "One more thing. Last time I asked you to help, there was no real danger. Not so here. These guys like to kill, and they're pretty good at it."
    Hubert didn't seem impressed. Then I told him the rest of it: the brown package, the
Iliad
, and my trip into the underworld from the night before.
    "This guy actually set you up?" Hubert said.
    I nodded.
    "And shot at you?"
    "That was the general idea I got, yes."
    "Wow. Are you going to report the body?"
    "If they don't find it soon enough, I'll make a call."
    "But, for now, you want to keep the package to yourself?"
    I smiled. "It was sent to me. I'd like to figure out what it means. So, yes, the package stays between us."
    I pulled out the cardboard cutout of the black train over yellow. "This was in there along with the book and the map. I'm thinking it's some sort of logo, but I can't place it."
    Hubert picked up the cutout and studied it. "Mind if I hang on to this for a while?"
    "So you're still interested?"
    "I said I was." Hubert kicked at the pile of documents I had stacked under the table. "Now, when are you going to tell me about all of this?"
    I pulled up the files I'd gotten from Jim Doherty. "You're a smart kid."
    Hubert had his eyes fixed on the files. "Yeah, yeah. So what surprises do we have here?"

CHAPTER 21

    I 'd just opened one of the files when Rodriguez walked through Filter's front door. I waved him over. "I told the detective to meet us here."
    Hubert shrugged. "Cool."
    Rodriguez slid into the booth beside Hubert. "What's up, kid? Whoa, what happened to the face?"
    I thought Hubert might just get up and leave. He smiled instead. "Hi, Detective. How are you?"
    Rodriguez looked over to me and back to Hubert. Then he noticed the old files piled up at my elbow.
    "What are those?"
    Hubert began to type on his laptop. "That is Mr. Kelly's backstory and the reason why we're all here this morning. Would you like to listen now or do you need coffee first?"
    Rodriguez got his coffee from the waitress, who wasn't any nicer to him, badge and all. Then he turned his attention to me.
    "None of this goes to the task force," I said. "Not until we figure out if there's anything worth looking at."
    Rodriguez waved a hand. I tipped open a file and kept talking.
    "Thirty years ago, an L train crashed in the Loop. Four cars derailed and wound up in the street. Eleven people were killed."
    I threw a spray of old news clips onto the table. Rodriguez picked one up and began to read.
    "The anniversary date was yesterday, February fourth," I said. "The crash happened at the corner of Lake and Wabash, site of yesterday's sniper shooting."
    Rodriguez looked up. "You been saving all this?"
    "I got a pal, retired cop named Jim Doherty. You know him?"
    Rodriguez shook his head.
    "He was a rookie in '80. Worked the tracks as they pulled bodies out of the cars. Everyone has a case that stays with them. For Jim, this was it. Keeps in touch with the families. Remembers the anniversary. All that stuff. We used to talk about the case when I was on the force."
    "Doesn't make sense," Rodriguez said. "Why would anyone start shooting up the L thirty years after the fact? And how does Southport fit? Most important, why put the bull's-eye on you?" The cop took a sip of his coffee. "Too many loose ends."
    "There's more," I said and pulled out another news clipping. It was a shot of the Lake Street elevated, moments after the crash. Below lay a tangle of fire trucks, ambulances, and cops surrounding four derailed cars: one lying on its side on Lake Street; one crushing the roof of two parked cars; the other two dangling in that rarefied air, halfway between the tracks and street below.
    "I never told Doherty about this." I shrugged. "Not sure why, but I guess I never told anyone."
    "Told anyone what?" Rodriguez said.
    I tapped my finger lightly on the faded photo. "I was in