“I saw your car was still in the lot when I was driving home and I hoped you’d let me use your computer for a little bit. Just, like, half an hour, maybe, while you get him his sandwich.”

“They shut down the Net at the Krumas campaign?”

“No, but I want to catch up on my own stuff, and the wireless signal I’ve been using in my building disappeared today.”

“You’ve been stealing someone else’s signal?”

“It’s not stealing when it’s just out there,” she said hotly.

I was too tired to argue the point, and, anyway, I didn’t really care. I showed her the code to get into the building and made sure I hadn’t left any confidential papers lying on my desk.

“Try to remember to turn out the lights when you leave, okay? The outer door will lock automatically behind you, so don’t worry about that.”

She gave me her biggest, brightest smile and a warm thank-you. “Did you really save that guy, Elton, is it? Did you really save his life?”

I felt embarrassed. “Maybe—I don’t know—I got him to a hospital, but he might have recovered on his own. The alcohol doesn’t help. He’s a Vietnam vet, which I only learned when I picked him off the sidewalk last week. War sure messes with people’s minds.”

“I know. PTSD: we studied it in psych.”

“Brian got a plan for them?”

Petra nodded solemnly, feeling responsible for her candidate. “Of course he does. He ought to be president—after Barack Obama finishes, I mean—but if we get him into the Senate, he’ll do everything he can for people like Elton.”

Something about her youth, her solemnity, her faith in Brian Krumas, made me nostalgic for my own youth. I gave her a quick hug and went off to buy Elton’s sandwich.

The next morning I started my dance with Johnny Merton’s lawyer. Nothing in Greg Yeoman’s manner inspired my confidence, but I tried to tread softly around him: he was my ticket to seeing the Anaconda chief. When I met Yeoman at his South Side office, he put on the act of someone who knew the gang world inside out and would run interference for a price.

“I’m not paying for the privilege of talking to Johnny. I only want to know if he’ll talk to me. And given how crappy Stateville is, it will be easier if he’ll let me come in as part of his legal team. That way, we can meet more easily and talk with a pretense of privacy.”

“Yes, Ms. Detective, but that kind of work costs money. If you want to see Johnny in a hurry, it will help you if you and I become friends.”

Ah yes, becoming friends. A Chicago euphemism for bribe.