Chicago Chronicles Part 8

I had been awakened sometime in the afternoon by a call from a possible employer. My room was dark, but my internal clock told me it was far too early for any respectable speed freak to be up.
“This had better be important goddamnit! How did you get this number?!?”
It took me a while to calm down. Usually does. He was from a security company, he said, Aero…something or other, and was I interested in taking a trip to Chicago? I told him I wasn’t a Cub’s fan, but I could root for the White Sox if the price was right. His offer came close to ‘right’ and I had a job. Details would be waiting at the airport. Hardcopy. Good, something to read on the flight.
I hung up and turned on my T.V., which was a mistake. The networks couldn’t say enough about some woman who had been assaulted at an airport in D.C. She was some company bigshot, and he was just another white ape in a business suit. Hired muscle, most likely. Possibly a fellow Nightscab. Bored and anxious, I did a line. Time to get to work.

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