I STARE at my transfer papers, still unable to believe it, rechecking that it’s my name and star number at the top of the page, that there hasn’t been some kind of mix-up.
“Believe me, Harney,” says Driscoll, “it wasn’t my idea.”
The Special Operations Section. I’ve been assigned to SOS.
“We just announced it last month,” says Driscoll.
I saw the presser, Superintendent Driscoll making the announcement with the mayor by his side. The Special Operations Section is an “elite strike force” assigned to major crimes throughout the city. But its focus will be the West Side, terrorized by all the shootings that have given Chicago a nationally recognized black eye and made a lot of local politicians nervous.
Ah, the new mayor. He must be the one who made this assignment happen. Never met the guy, but he must’ve said, Hey, that Harney guy, let’s put him in this unit, show everyone how committed to reform I am. Ever the suck-up, Driscoll would’ve heartily endorsed the idea. He probably even gave the mayor a congratulatory hand job even though he privately wanted to coerce me to retire. He took a shot at getting me to quit just now, but I didn’t take the bait. So now he has to bite his tongue and promote me to one of the best assignments on the force. It must be killing him.
“You’re in the spotlight, Harney, right where you like it.”
I look up at him. Still in shock—this was the absolute last thing I expected—I’m unable to come up with one of my trademark one-liners. “I never wanted the spotlight. I just did my job.”
“Well, you got it anyway, Media Sweetheart. But the thing about the spotlight? It can be warm and comforting when you do good. It can be harsh when you screw up.”
That’s one thing he didn’t need to tell me.
“There’s nothing the press likes more than a fall from grace,” he says. “A hero cop who turns out to be a fuckup.”
That’s two things I already knew.
“That line-of-duty pension’s still on the table,” he says. “Walk away with some bucks in your pocket, move on with your life.”
“And get out of your hair,” I add.
“That, too.”
Yeah. Driscoll’s the type who throws dead weight off the boat without a moment’s hesitation. He’d take the first opportunity to burn me if it suited him. And for all I know, that’s what this whole thing is—I’m being set up to fail.
So I’ll just have to make sure I don’t fail.
I give him a wide grin. “I accept the assignment, Mr. Superintendent, sir. Your Excellency.”
He gives me a sidelong glance. “Oh, you’re gonna last a real long time with that attitude, hotshot. Your boss is going to love you.”
I knew about the creation of SOS. But I never heard who’d be running it.
“Who’s my boss?” I ask.