The Primal Connection by Alexander Dregon Page A

partner had showed up, it was as likely a scenario as any. In the end, Bridger had collected the reward offered by families of the victims as well as a local philanthropist. The mayor had no such benefactor, but he did have a slush fund. And given that the rates this Bridger charged were ridiculously low, it seemed it could be an idea worth considering. The mayor, however, was not so much inclined.
    “You think we should try to use this consultant to catch a gang of lunatics? Shit, Al, for all we know, this could be the whole plan! They could be in cahoots figuring out some way to extort money from cities!”
    Crane was used to Mayor Simon’s paranoia. To tell the truth, it was one of his most endearing quirks. Especially considering the others were racism, elitism and plain old ignorance. He had helped make him mayor under the strict rule that he would also be one of the ones that kept him controlled. In public, he was the politician’s politician, promising little and delivering less, but he was always so much in control that no one noticed they got screwed until it was far too late. He was great for business and keeping a good face on City Hall, but he was a puppet in most cases, of the city’s corporate bosses.
    These days, it wasn’t so bad. And as behind-the-scene bosses went, Chicago’s were some of the more genteel. In matters such as this, though, they left the handling to the mayor and his staff. In other words, him and Martin Finch, the mayor’s chief aide. Or as he liked to call him, Simon lite.
    “Sir, it would be highly doubtful that this man Bridger would be in any way, shape or form connected to this person we are looking for. According to FBI files, he was a cop and an army ranger in Iraq. He’s had several cases with the bureau and each one has ended well.”
    The mayor cut him off disdainfully. He knew what kind of man this Bridger was despite the fact that he had never met him. The opportunistic sycophant that wormed his way in like a huckster then made off with the silver when no one was watching. “Yes, and he no doubt took all the credit for it, leaving the ones that did the actual work to look like fools.”
    Crane counted slowly to ten before he answered. There were times he wanted to push Simon out a window at the top floor and blame it on the spirits of fair play and common sense. Anyone who knew the idiot would have backed up the possibility.
    “Mayor, I hardly think that rationale applies here. Bridger keeps a low profile. He was touted as a hero on his first case, but since then has never even been interviewed. He doesn’t like the spotlight. And given he only asks for whatever reward might be offered, he doesn’t strike me as being in it for the money. I did a little checking on his last case. He captured a serial killer in Montana just two days ago. This time, just in time to stop him from having his way with a twenty-year-old he had just taken that night! All the agents involved said he had every chance to take the guy out and not a single reason not to. There was nobody that would have blamed him if he had, but he brought the guy in alive and left. And all there was in it for him was a ten-thousand-dollar reward from a former victim’s family.”
    Sensing a chink in the mayor’s armor, he added, “And the mayor gets the full credit for bringing him in on the case. Seems the FBI agent in charge had some kind of beef with him and didn’t want his help. The chief of police was just as unwilling, but the mayor decided that it couldn’t hurt and neither of the pair had a good enough reason to argue after that. Now, whenever that story finally makes the papers, and it will, who do you think the public is going to give the credit to since the guy that actually did the work isn’t likely to be there?”
    From where he was, Crane could swear he could hear gears in Simon’s head. Old, rusty gears that he hadn’t used in years and more than likely couldn’t remember what they were