Campanelli: Sentinel (20 page)

              Frank shut the cruiser’s door and put the
RadarCane
to work, paving the way in front of him. As the car retreated into the distance, the tones from the device became easier to discern. Campanelli navigated flawlessly along the sidewalk. The cane found the twelve foot high lamppost, the landmark that told him where to turn to get to his front door. After the change of direction, the cane hummed in warning of something large up ahead and to his left.

              Campanelli slowed his pace and, concentrating the sweep of his cane in that direction. The tones increased in volume and frequency and when halted his forward progress and lifted the tip of the cane to point straight ahead, something triggered the proximity hum.

             
Wow-wow-wowowowowow
!

              “Frank? What in tarnation happened to ya?” a familiar voice came to him. It was Luke McKay.

              Frank breathed a sigh of relief as he lowered the cane and called, “Oh, Luke. Good afternoon.”

              “Didja go blind since last I saw ya?” the old man inquired in mild alarm. From the sound of his voice, Frank could tell that the man had stood.

              “I’m fine, Luke,” Campanelli explained, “I was blind before. My implants have powered down.”

              “Glory be,” McKay declared in his endearing southerner’s way, “I had no inkling a’tall. Sure fooled me. Ya need any help?”

              “No, sir,” Frank said and moved closer to the door. “I just need a couple of hours to rest.”

              The door hinges squeaked. McKay had pulled it open for him. “Okay then. If’n ya need anythin’, me an’ Bill are here.”

              “Thank you, Luke,” Frank called over his shoulder and followed his cane’s cues to the stairs. He had practiced this maneuver a hundred times at his leisure and on the few occasions when he had gotten into trouble, he simply activated his lenses to get out of it. This time was different. If there was trouble, there was no backup for almost an hour.

              Upon the first landing he made his left turn, found the wall and turned left again to the second flight. He let out a breath of relief when he made it to the third floor. Finding his front door, he used his keycard to manually unlock it.

              Once inside, Frank set the cane on the dining room table, removed his sport coat and draped it over a chair. He then removed his shoulder holster and rested it on the table, followed by his CPD star, which had been clipped to his belt.

              Despite the inconvenience of his temporary blindness, his mood was light. He and his Sentinel team had found a cop killer and they were about to arrest a whole network of human traffickers. The information they had gleaned from Beritoni and Antony proved to be priceless and Campanelli was feeling better about himself than he had since a time before his relocation from New York City.

              Frank stepped around his dining table, stopped in the kitchen to retrieve a soft drink from his refrigerator and moved into the living room to find the couch. Once there, he retracted the cane and placed it upon the coffee table. He sat and opened the drink container.

              The Captain of Detectives leaned his head back into the soft couch and took several gulps of the sweet carbonated fluid. His mind raced through the day’s progress and he wished that he could read Williams’s as yet unwritten report or even replay the recordings of his and Lincoln’s deceit. Frank smiled just thinking about it.

              “Holovision,” he called out as he set the container on the table and kicked off his shoes. Lifting his feet as he felt for the miniature pillows, Frank stretched out. “Volume down. Down,” he directed. It was time for afternoon reruns, apparently. “Time,” he demanded.

              “
Two-fifty, p.m.
,” the HV’s masculine voice answered. The female-voiced clock in the bedroom also heard his command and answered almost in unison. The two devices were a minute apart.

              An old familiar comedy was being broadcast. Frank had never become a very big fan of the decades-old show, but he left it on for background noise.

              He lay his head upon the pillow and, in a matter of moments, fell into a light sleep.

***

              Frank awoke to the opening tune of the local news show. He did not need to request the time, for he knew it to be five o’clock. He cussed as he sat up, having had no intention of sleeping that long. He thought the order to activate his
CAPS-Link
. Once it powered up and the world was once again in view, he commanded the implant to connect to the CPD server. He found Williams’s report, opened it and began to read.

              He noted that Marcus had submitted it and found the confirmation that Sebastian had received and read it. There was no response from their chief as yet.

              Frank stopped reading as the anchorwoman from the news broadcast on the HV beyond his projected files said something about seven people dying, which immediately grabbed his attention. He minimized the
CAPS-Link
field and ordered the holovision to back up the broadcast for a minute’s time and play it back.

              “
Influenza, once well under control and considered by most experts as no longer a threat, has been on the rise over the past few years. Chicago has seen a recent spike in serious instances of the affliction in just the past week, resulting in the deaths of seven people so far. Chicago health officials warned of the lethal outbreak many months ago, prompting an official plea to pharmaceutical producers. As you may know, however, the number of corporations that can produce Perpetuamivir has been dwindling for decades, mostly as a result of the lack of qualified individuals equipped with the expertise to manufacture the drug. The Chicago Department of Public Health has been issuing warnings and spreading the word on prevention, but the cases keep growing.”

             
“Holy hell,” Frank muttered as the anchor woman disappeared from the wall and was replaced by a street scene somewhere in Chinatown. Citizens were shown walking the streets as they went about their business, wearing medical masks over their faces. The scene shifted to the subway system on State Street, where people were shown wearing the masks and gloves as they ascended and descended the stairs.

              “
Other vaccines are currently under production, but they have been found to be less effective against the ever-mutating flu viruses. The truly alarming detail of these new cases is that at least two of the deceased had recently been given booster shots of Perpetuamivir and an investigation into these incidents is ongoing.
”

              This fact chilled Campanelli and his first thought was of young Sarah Whethers. He made a mental note to check on her soon. In the meantime, his current case would need his full attention.

              The news broadcast changed topics and Frank muted the audio of the HV and grabbed his telephone. His need to convince Sebastian of the next course of action was paramount. Dialing the Chief’s number, he sat back and waited for the man to pick it up.

              “Sebastian,” the voice on the other end said.

              “Chief, this is Campanelli.”

              “Hi, Frank.”

              “Hi. I see that you received Williams’s report,” Frank said, “I’d like to get arrest warrants drawn up as quickly as possible.”

              “Yeah,” Earl said in a negative tone, “about that, Frank. I spoke to the mayor about DeSilva and his dealings with Ignatola and he is absolutely outraged.”

              “Okay,” Campanelli put in, “then let’s pick him up tomorrow and prevent this rally on Saturday.”

              “I would agree to do that, but,” the OCD Chief explained, “the mayor wants to publicly defeat and humiliate this man. He feels that we have an opportunity to put illegal emigration in a real negative light here.”

              Frank put the hand not holding the receiver to his forehead and shut his eyes in frustration. “Sir, I think that’s a terrible idea.”

              “I happen to agree, Captain,” Earl answered immediately, putting a slight emphasis on Frank’s honorary rank. “I would prefer to nab DeSilva, Fillipo Ignatola and Del Taylor all nice and quiet-like, but the mayor wants this done publicly.”

              “And what about DeSilva’s followers?” Frank asked, not caring that his anger was evident. The plan was short sighted and dangerous and he was bent on letting Sebastian know it. “We’re not even sure how many to expect. There could be ten thousand.”

              “The mayor is not convinced that DeSilva has that great an influence,” Sebastian provided, though his own view was impossible to discern from his tone.

              “There could be a riot,” Frank heard himself say. It seemed an obvious and stupid statement, but the mayor’s idea had struck Campanelli dumb.

              “It’s possible, Frank,” the OCD Chief granted. “We will have sufficient officers there that morning. I want you to put together surveillance details on Fillipo Ignatola, Del Taylor and Maximilian DeSilva as of tomorrow morning.”

              “Okay,” Frank said absently. Images of violence outside the mayor’s office ran through his mind.

              “The arrest of Gianfranco Beritoni came too soon,” Sebastian went on. “That’s not a criticism, Frank, considering the circumstances. His absence from work might cause a problem. Del Taylor isn’t dumb. You can bet he’s figured out that his junior partner was hiding Antony and that we have him. Let’s hope that he and Ignatola have not already fled the city.”

              “I understand.”

              Earl Sebastian thanked his detective and ended the call. Campanelli placed the receiver onto its cradle and stared at the silent scene played out upon his holovision. It was a commercial for something, that much was certain, but for what exactly, Frank did not know nor did he care.

              The Chief of OCD had a point. Taylor and Ignatola might already have fled. He stood and paced the room, incensed over the mayor’s decision to make the arrest public. It was completely asinine and put the police officers and the mayor himself in danger.

             
Politicians
, he thought,
will never learn until they’re facing an angry mob
.

              On his fourth pass in front of the HV, Frank made a decision. Accessing the CPD server’s officer location system, he found that Williams was still at work at his desk just across the street. Quickly, Frank picked up the phone and dialed his number.

              “Hi, Frank,” Marcus answered on the first ring.

              “Hi. I just spoke to Sebastian,” Campanelli sat and ran his other hand through his short, spikey white hair. “Are you aware of the mayor’s plan for Saturday?”

              “Yeah,” Williams answered in a tone of annoyance. “I can’t believe he’s putting people at risk just for a public display.”

              “Understood. But Sebastian brought up something else.”

              “What?”

              “It’s more than likely that Del Taylor has put it together that Beritoni was arrested with Antony and that he might try to skate town.”

              “That’s a strong possibility,” Marcus agreed.

              “The Chief wants surveillance on Ignatola, DeSilva and Taylor by morning, but get two men on Taylor right away,” Campanelli ordered as the first “L” train of the evening shook his apartment. He noticed the time on his implant’s display was ten minutes after five. “He might still be at the office.”

              “I take it we’re not waiting until morning to watch the other two, either?”

              “Hell, no.”

              “On it,” Williams said and consulted his computer. Entering the information, an available detective unit responded. He then accessed the State’s GPS service. “Taylor’s car is in
The Park Monroe
’s garage. I have Lyman and Davies in the area. They’re almost done for the night, though. No one else on Sentinel is close at the moment.”

              “Send Lyman and Davies. Tell ‘em to request relief whenever they can get it.”

              “Right.”

              “Have you looked up the names of the pilots that Beritoni gave us?”

              “I was doing that when you called,” Marcus said. Frank could hear the sound of his partner’s fingers tapping his monitor. “Most of these men live in DuPage County…quite close to the DuPage Airport. One lives in Bolingbrook, near the old Clow airstrip. The last one is in Wheeling. He lives near the Chicago Executive Airport.”

              “Okay,” Campanelli added, “I want you to contact DuPage County Sheriff’s Department. Explain the situation and see if you can get them to put surveillance on them. Do the same for Bolingbrook and Wheeling.”

              “Got it.”

              “Look up Ignatola’s personal vehicles and find out where they are. Do the same with the reverend.”

              “Okay. Want me to call you back?”

              “Do it while I’m talkin’ to you.”