They both chuckled. Lich was in pain, but he would be fine and Mac breathed a sigh of relief.
“Who’s the tough broad,” Lich asked, looking Wire up and down as only he could, in other words, without any subtleness whatsoever. “From what I saw it looks like she can handle a weapon.”
“Richard Lich, meet Dara Wire.”
“Detective,” Wire waved from the ambulance doorway.
“So what’s your story?”
“Ex-FBI is part of it,” Mac chimed in.
“Feeb, huh?”
Mac nodded, “Fraid so.”
Wire shook her head. “My story is a long one. Let’s just say as of late that I’ve been working for the Judge.”
“Speaking of that,” Mac jumped in, turning serious, “where is everyone else?”
“Inside, downstairs. Dixon, Shelby and one very worried and pissed off assistant county attorney that you live with.”
* * *
“The police have the information now. I was unable to tie it off, they have the pictures of Connolly,” Kristoff said matter of factly to his boss. He provided a brief explanation of McCormick’s and what happened outside of McRyan’s Pub. “I’m sorry. We failed.”
“You could not have foreseen the events of this evening. The information they now have is a problem but a solvable one. To cap the well, we need to go in a different direction. The jet is at Flying Cloud airport. Get there and your next assignment will be waiting.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“It’s our best strategy.”
McRyan’s Pub was opened by Mac’s great-grandfather Patrick. The pub, the oldest in St. Paul, had an extremely colorful history, having remained open and subversively active during Prohibition. During Prohibition, the drinks were served in the infamous Patrick’s Room. Located in the basement, Patrick’s Room was found behind a hidden door disguised as a built-in wooden buffet that ran the length of a wall, not unlike what you might find in one of St. Paul’s Victorian homes. A latch inside the middle drawer of the buffet opened the door into a large party room. During Prohibition, the police, politicians, citizens and even the occasional notorious criminal partied together. John Dillinger, Machine-Gun Kelly and Creepy Karpis were all guests and the police would leave them alone as long as they behaved themselves in St. Paul. Harboring criminals wasn’t perhaps the McRyan family’s finest hour, but those were the times. Now a plaque outside the room described its notorious history and black and white pictures inside detailed the room’s colorful history.
While Patrick’s Room these days was mostly used for private parties, cop poker games and the odd corporate meeting, on occasion it also served as an off-the-books war room for one of Mac’s investigations. Tonight, it served a new function: temporary safe house. As Mac approached the stairway to the basement, on-duty and off-duty cops alike, many of them McRyan’s, stood at attention, guns visible, ready to throw down at a moment’s notice.
As he pushed into Patrick’s Room, the first person he saw was Sally, who jumped up from the table and rushed to hug him, burying her head in his shoulder. “I’m okay,” he replied quietly, holding her tight. She knew what his job was and the dangers that it occasionally entailed. But until tonight, the danger had always been known, even discussed, but never experienced so up close and personal.
The Judge pushed himself out of a chair and approached and Mac’s mood darkened.
“I better explain.”
“Ya think,” Mac replied tersely, his arms folded. “And this time, no more jackin’ around. I’d like the whole fuckin’ story, if you don’t mind.”
Judge Dixon stepped back and tensed up, his eyes narrowing in on the detective. He was not someone accustomed to being spoken to in such a fashion but he took measure of the look on McRyan’s face and thought of the conditions now existing on the street above and nodded lightly. “You’re right, Detective.”
The Judge looked over to Kate Shelby. “Detective, let’s start with what’s in the backpack.”
Just then, the chief and Mac’s Uncle Shamus burst into Patrick’s Room, “Mac what in the hell is going on?” Then the chief saw the Judge. He stepped to him and extended his hand. “Judge. Good to see you in one piece, my friend.”
Dixon extended his as well. “Thank you, Charlie. We’re safe, thanks to your people.”
The chief looked to Mac, “You okay, son?”
“Fine, sir.”
“And Lich?”
“Took one in the left shoulder; a nasty through and through. He’s on the way to the hospital now.”
“I’ll run over to check on him here soon and we’ll break this all down later, for now I