Wicked Prey Read Online Free PDF Page B

bad,” Lucas said. “I always liked that place. When I was at the U, we’d go down there and try to get laid.”
    “Glad to hear that, since it’s my daughter I’m taking down,” the guy said.
    Oops. “Mmm. Anyway, you got things under control?”
    “I think so. We’re going out tomorrow night, hit some of the assholes,” the guy said. “Preempt them. They think they’re hiding in Minneapolis, but we’ve got a couple of guys with them.”
    “Ah, jeez . . .”
    “You’re welcome to come along and watch.”
    Lucas was tempted, but it would be a bit humiliating, standing there, rubbernecking, while the other guys got the action. “Ah, you know. I pissed off too many people. But . . . glad to know you got it covered.”
    They talked a few more minutes, then he went out and hung with Letty and Sam, and started an Alan Furst novel, and eventually went to bed and slept the sleep of the righteous.
    * * *
    FRIDAY MORNING, another gorgeous day, driving north up Cretin Avenue.
    Anti-Semites were milling around the corner at Summit Avenue, with signs about Palestine; on up to I-94, then blowing the doors off the chain of Camrys and Priuses as he merged into traffic. Made him smile, made him feel happy, as though there were possibilities in the world. He hustled across town, up I-35E, off on Maryland, down the road to the headquarters of the Bureau of Criminal Apprehension . . . past the filling station where a madwoman once tried to shoot him to death.
    He parked in the BCA lot and walked up to his office, peeling off his jacket to show the .45 he carried under his armpit. Pulled off the shoulder rig, stuck the whole apparatus in a file cabinet. His secretary, Carol, trailed him into his office.
    “You’ve got a call, sounds like it might be important,” she said.
    “The security committee? I got that . . .”
    Carol looked at a piece of paper. “From New York. You know a woman named Lily Rothenburg? Says she’s a captain with the NYPD?”
    “Absolutely,” Lucas said.
    “She wants you to give her a call,” Carol said. “She says it’s semi-urgent.”
    “Ring her up and transfer it in,” Lucas said. “Dig up a phone number for Dan Coates over in Wisconsin—it’s the Special Assignments Bureau in their Justice Department. I need to talk to him right after Lily.”
    “Gotcha.” She hesitated in the doorway. “One more thing. You got a nut call: the guy says, ‘Is this Davenport’s office?’ I say, ‘Yes.’ He says, ‘Tell that motherfucker that I’m coming for him.’”
    Lucas laughed: “Did he say who it was?”
    “There was a caller ID. Do you know an Achmed Mansoor?”
    Lucas shook his head. “Nope. Did he say anything about Allah?”
    “No . . . and this guy sounded like an American. Ghetto accent. I did a reverse directory and came up with a Middle Eastern sandwich shop in Dinkytown.”
    “Gimme the address: I’ll look into it.”
    * * *
    DEL CAPSLOCK had come through the door while they were talking, and said to Carol, “You sweet thing.”
    Carol, feigning propriety: “How’s the pregnant wife?”
    “She’s fine. She’s great,” Del said. “She looks like a goddamn rosebud. Doc says she’s starting to dilate, but she’s still a while out. She’s got me running around like a Shriner parade.”
    Lucas asked, “Do they still have those?”
    “They must, somewhere,” Del said. “They still got Shriners.” He eased into one of the visitors’ chairs and put his boots on Lucas’s desktop. “So what’s this about a sandwich shop in Dinkytown?”
    Carol explained and Del said, “I’ll go over and have a chat with the guy.”
    “I’m not doing much,” Lucas said.
    “Yeah, but you go walking in the door, maybe he pulls out a shotgun and kills you,” Del said. “Me, he doesn’t know from Adam.”
    “As far as you know.”
    “Whatever.” Del yawned then added, “I never heard of a cop getting killed by somebody who called ahead.”
    “Probably happened