They Tell Me You Are Brutal by David Hagerty

Author:David Hagerty
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: blackmail, detective, political intrigue, murder, chicago politics, political thriller, crime mystery
Publisher: Evolved Publishing LLC
Published: 2017-12-04T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 23

For once, Duncan wanted to speak to reporters, but he’d done such an efficient job losing them that he couldn’t find any. He could return to the command post, yet then he’d risk interference by the FBI. At his downtown office he might encounter a few scriveners, yet he wanted his message carried as broadly as possible. Calling a press conference would take time and coordination, and his staff would intervene, trying to sculpt his message to appeal to voters rather than to the one man he truly wanted to address. Then, inspiration.

By the time Duncan reached the front door of The Billy Goat Tavern, the sun had topped the skyscrapers downtown to warm the streets and illuminate the people bustling about as though nothing unusual loomed over them. None of this penetrated the entrance, which hid underground, in a basement beneath the road. The place lay on lower Michigan Avenue, near three television stations and both Chicago dailies. As such, it became a favorite gathering spot for reporters looking to share war stories and miseries, to rehash the events of the day among peers who understood the difficulties of inflating every political intrigue at City Hall and every routine crime from police headquarters to front page headlines.

His watch read 10:45, a bit early for most diners, but not the nocturnal shift who’d just imprinted the next day’s news. A haze from the fry grill clouded the subterranean space and tainted the air. On the walls hung framed tear sheets yellowed with age and exposure, memorializing great scoops and flubs past—“Dewey Defeats Truman,” “Jury Convicts Capone,” “Kidnap Rich Boy; Kill Him,” “Fire! Destruction of Chicago!,” ”Cubs Hex Clings On.” A dozen news hounds savored colas and burgers at Formica tables while in the background a murmur of live radio updated them on the latest reports. It took half a minute for the regulars to notice the foreigner in the doorway, and even then they sat immobilized, waiting for this apparition to announce its intents.

“Sorry to intrude,” Duncan said. “But I have a story for you.”

* * *

An hour later, once they’d all called their editors and cameramen from the one pay phone that hung by the bathroom, Duncan stood before the jury of the press. The front door had been propped open and the window curtains pulled back to clear the air and let in a gray, if natural, light. Still the place wafted with fry oil and sweated wool. Duncan had removed his Cubs cap and wetted down his hair but still worried he would appear too casual on camera.

He hadn’t scripted his message, trusting anger and frustration to inspire him. However, facing the single eye of the camera, he regretted not taking a bathroom break to scrawl a few notes on a napkin, like the deluded novelists who resorted to reportage to pay the bills, but kept a Filofax of beer mats with observations and plot twists. Not even the most shameless fictionalizer would conjure this scene—the governor challenging a madman to a barroom brawl.

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