A Quiet Departure From the Shadows of a Chicago Empire
The city felt dead, buried under a foot of fresh snow.
I turned onto Dearborn Street and saw the tall, dark facade of the federal building.
I parked the SUV in a restricted zone right in front of the entrance.
I took the drive, wrapped my coat tightly around myself, and stepped out into the freezing wind.
The cold air bit my face and made my eyes water.
I walked through the heavy glass doors into the lobby.
The security guards looked up from their monitors, their faces tense.
“I am here to see Assistant US Attorney Vance,” I said.
One of the guards picked up a black telephone.
“Name?” he asked.
“Elena Carter,” I said. “He is expecting me.”
The guard spoke into the receiver, then nodded.
“Take the elevator to the eighth floor,” he said. “Someone will meet you.”
The elevator ride was slow and silent.
I looked at my reflection in the polished metal doors.
My face was pale, and my eyes were dark with exhaustion.
I placed a hand over my stomach.
“We are almost there,” I whispered to the child inside me.