Out of the precinct Drecker was in his element. The Caddy growled through her gears like a jaguar in heat, man and machine were one for awhile on the streets of Chicago. For the second time that day Drecker caught a break and sailed through traffic towards Chongo's office.

If only he could forget everything, the Captain, his job, his badge, and just keep driving west. He was close to retirement, but close only counted in horseshoes. When he retired they'd probably name a wing in the prison hospital after him (that was where his "informants" ended up often enough. Other than that they'd probably just as soon forget him. But being a copper was in his blood, even if he wasn't considered the best around like he had been a decade or so ago. He'd see this through to the end. Possibly my end he thought with Chicago suddenly coming unglued like it had.

Miracle of miracles there was an open space near Chongos office. Okay so he had to walk half a block, but that was better than having to hike a couple of miles or double park it out in traffic. He pulled in, buttoned the Caddy up, no sense taking the chance that some aspiring young chimp with no lessons in history would nick it. It would be returned as it had been a time or two (no word of the chimp who'd stolen it) but that chimp might manage to scratch or ding it before his elders caught up with him.

On the steps of the building a young seargent was talking to two bluesuits who turned and ran up the steps into the building.
"How ya doin Sarge", said Drecker from the sidewalk.
The Seargent turned at the sound of his voice and greeted Drecker with an "afternoon detective".   "I just sent the boy's up to check on that private dick Chongo". "We found his burned out car in the back alley and figured we better go up".
"You didn't tell 'em to bust in I suppose," growled Decker.
"Matter of fact I did," the seargeant replied. "Figured he might be injured inside and couldn't respond to our knock."
Drecker grabbed the Seargeant and hauled him to the ground just as the third floor, where Chongo kept his office, turned into dust amid the flames and smoke of a twelve stick and oven gas booby trap.
"Damnit!, thought Drecker, " another damn funeral I'm gonna hafta attend!"
He helped the shaken Seargeant up and brushed off his coat. Now where the hell was he going to find Chongo, he thought while absentmindedly fingering a whole in his fedora where a blast driven piece of debris had just missed taking his head off.


(There, I saved his butt from going up in the office explosion that I was sure was going to come sooner or later. By the way it's Chief.)