2

"Patience," said Kalinda. "They'll be here." She'd booked them in to a quiet motel downtown, but Dante was getting nervous.

"Every minute I stay here with you brings me closer to the devil," he said.

Kalinda's phone throbbed in her jacket pocket. It was Diane: "Have you seen Alicia? Her daughter called me. She said she expected her home hours ago, and she's not answering her phone."

"What time did she leave work?"

"She was still there when I left and that was after nine."

"So is she still there?"

"No, I checked with the security patrol. Her car's still there, but there's no sign of her. I'm worried Kalinda, this isn't like her."

"Okay, I'm on it." Kalinda made the calls, everyone except the family and Eli. She tried Finn Polmar on the off chance, but no luck. So where the hell is she?

Dante inched back the curtain and squinted out into the night. "Stay away from the window," Kalinda warned him. "Do you want to end up like Lenard and Wagner?"

Another call came through. A familiar voice said: "Kalinda?"

Kalinda felt her blood fizz. "Yes," she said.

"I know what game you're playing." Kalinda opened her mouth but there were no words. "Your friend is here, with me," said the voice.

"Alicia?"

"Call them off if you want to see her again." The voice hung up.

"What's going on?" Dante demanded.

Kalinda made the call. "It's off," she said when Lana answered.

"What do you mean, off?"

"I mean it's off. He's changed his mind."

"Jesus Christ Kalinda!"

"What are you doing?" said Dante.

"Is he still there?" Lana asked.

"No. I don't know where he is. He's running."

Dante rushed at her. "Gimme that!" he snarled, reaching for the phone.

Kalinda hung up and pulled out her pistol. "Sit," she commanded.

"You bitch," he said. "I should never have trusted you."

"Calm down. Do you want to live?"

"He's onto to us isn't he?"

"Yes."

"I'm a dead man," he said.

"Not yet. We have to get out of here. I'll get the car. Stay here. Okay?"

"Leave me the gun at least."

"No. I'll come back for you. Sit tight."

Alicia sat up in the bed covering her nakedness with a sheet. "What's going on?" she said. "Who were you calling?"

Bishop smiled. "That was your treacherous friend Kalinda," he said. "Did you know she was selling me out to the FBI?"

"No," Alicia protested. "She wouldn't."

"Wouldn't she?" Bishop picked up the house phone. "Send up some food and a bottle of Charlie. Yeah, whatever. Make it half an hour all right? You know what I think?" he said, hanging up the phone and perching his naked body on the bed beside her. "I think you'd do just about anything to save your friend Cary." Bishop grasped the bottom of the bed sheet with one hand and began pulling it gently towards the end of the bed. Alicia gripped the top of the sheet and held on to it as tightly as she could. Bishop grinned, slid his body under the sheet, and cozied up against her. "Could be a long night," he said. "May as well make the most of it."

Kalinda made her way around to the back of the building, keeping close to the walls and the darkness of the shadows. She stopped at the corner, partially concealed by the dumpster in front of her and stared out into the night. The car was across the other side of the street. She could see it clearly beneath the streetlight. How many would there be? One or two? Or maybe more. She scanned the area with a studied eye. Something was glinting in the shop doorway twenty yards to the left of the car. She pulled back the slide of her pistol, took a deep breath, and marched purposefully out into the open. A shadowy figure emerged from the doorway. She fired: once, twice, three times, unerringly hitting the target. A shot rang out to her right. She turned, both hands steady, arms outstretched and squeezed the trigger. The gunman dropped his weapon and fell, stricken by the multiple shots to his upper body. Two down. She made her way cautiously to the car and climbed inside. It wasn't until she turned the key that she felt the pain, and noticed the blood dripping off the end of her fingertips.

Lana Delaney stared down at the body in the street. "Looks like the same weapon," said the ME. "I'd say one shooter did for both of them."

"The motel's clear," said Agent Harris, joining then at the scene.

"What about our boy?" Lana asked him.

"No sign. The manager said she heard a disturbance, saw a car take off in a hurry and that's it."

"That's it? What about the car?"

"A dark coloured coupe. She says it was dark and she didn't have her glasses."

"Terrific. And Miss Sharma?"

Harris shrugged. "Nothing."

Lana looked up as a black limousine pulled up at the kerb and a tall figure came striding towards them. "Mr. Governor," she said. "What are –?"

Peter Florrick took her by the arm and led her away out of earshot. "Is this to do with Lemond Bishop?" he asked her.

"I'm sorry Governor I –"

"I'm going to ask you once more," Peter said, his words carrying an unmistakeable menace. "Is this to do with Lemond Bishop?"

"Yes, maybe."

"Which is it?"

"The dead men are Bishop's crew, or at least we think they are."

"You think?"

"Yes."

"Do you know where Bishop is right now?"

"No. Why?"

"Because I think he's kidnapped my wife."

"What?"

"This is strictly between us, and I mean exclusively. She's missing. Chicago PD talked to a guy in the bar across the street from where she works. He said he saw my wife get into a black SUV around ten pm. It's Bishop's trademark car isn't it?"

"Lots of people drive black SUV's Governor."

Peter looked downcast. "I know," he said.

"Is your wife – involved with Bishop?" Lana asked him.

"Of course not," Peter snapped.

"He is a former client of hers though isn't he?"

"I want you to keep me informed," he said, ignoring her question. "and I mean updates every hour on the hour. I want you to find Bishop and I want you to liase with the local PD. And don't think of jerking me around, I've been on to Washington. Understand?"

"Sure."

"Find my wife agent Delaney."

Bishop picked up the ringing phone from the bedside table. "Is it done?" he said. "Slow down. What? So where the hell is she? Listen to me. You will find her and finish the job. Do you understand me? Good."

"Mr. Bishop," said Alicia, getting up and putting on the bathrobe. "You have to let me go. They'll be looking for me, my family, the police probably. What good does it do you to keep me here? Please, let me go."

"Not just yet Mrs. Florrick. Not until it's over."

"I think I'll take that shower then," she said, marching off to the bathroom.

"You do that Mrs. Florrick. You do that."