Erin, he was pinning photos to a whiteboard and marking them; they were all screenshots from the surveillance video, and nothing useful had been revealed so far.
When everyone gathered around, Erin took a moment to organize the photographs and reports before beginning to explain the details. The murmur in the room gradually faded as everyone focused their attention on the board.
—The place they attacked, as you know, was an illegal casino operated by the Triad —she began, pointing to one of the images—. According to the Gang Unit, there are more than a dozen underground casinos scattered throughout the city. They operate in basements, restaurant backrooms, and abandoned buildings. They move them constantly to avoid being detected.
Erin picked up another photograph and placed it next to the first one.
—You shut one down, and two more appear —she continued—. They have people watching the streets, cameras at every entrance, and messengers who warn them if the police get close. By the time we arrive, many times they've already disappeared.
—Do we know who their main competitors are?
Approaching the problem from that angle often opened unexpected doors. If someone was losing money because of those casinos, sooner or later, they would try to do something about it.
Antonio leaned against the edge of a nearby table, casually flipping through one of the reports.
—The Rivera Kings —he finally said—. They're a small gang that controls underground lotteries and street gambling. Illegal raffles, dice in alleyways, cards in backrooms… things like that. But nothing that comes close to the revenue of a casino.
Ethan exchanged a quick glance with Hank before speaking, his tone growing more serious.
—Could it be that the Rivera Kings want to bite off more than they should?
—It's a possibility… —Hank said cautiously— but I don't think they have either the equipment or the balls to mess with the Triad. Those guys are barely a bunch of nobodies.
He stood up from his chair and walked toward the board. With his finger, he pointed at the photos from the scene and the blurry images from the security cameras.
—Take a good look at them —he continued—. Whoever did this knew exactly what they were doing. They came in, executed the hit, and disappeared.
He tapped the board lightly with the marker to emphasize the point.
Hank nodded calmly.
—Even so, we can start digging there. I still have an informant inside the gang; he has contact with the higher-ups. I'll see what I can get out of him.
—I'll go with you.
Ethan tossed his coffee cup into the trash can.
—No need. Those guys don't meet with just anyone. Wait for news at the office.
Hank shook his head.
He put on his jacket and headed down the stairs just as Olinsky and Atwater were coming up.
—Sergeant.
Atwater saw Hank and greeted him somewhat nervously.
—Mm.
—Atwater will be working with me for a couple of days, hope you don't mind —Olinsky said casually.
Hank looked at Atwater, dressed in plain clothes, and nodded.
—Do whatever you want.
He always left intelligence gathering in Olinsky's hands; he could use whoever he considered necessary, and generally Hank didn't interfere.
The three crossed paths on the stairs, and Hank quickly descended.
Atwater sat down enthusiastically at an empty table and began reviewing the latest case files. When he saw the place he had chosen, Antonio stared silently for a moment.
That used to be where his partner Julia sat. Several months had passed, and many things had changed; at least now she was recovering and was with her family, and that was what really mattered.
Ethan watched the photos on the board a little longer, momentarily without ideas. He didn't know much about the Triads' situation, so he had little to contribute to the case.
He slapped hands with Atwater and returned to his seat. The files remained to one side; he already knew the general situation and didn't bother reviewing them.
He opened a random webpage and began searching for real estate agents and whether there were any houses available. Job was right: the place where he lived lacked privacy and was too small.
It was fine for one person, but with two more guests, it felt a bit cramped. The most important thing was the outdoor space; he was used to having a large private area around him, like his cabin by the lake in Banshee.
In Chicago, it wasn't impossible to find houses like that, and moving to a larger one was completely viable given his financial situation; there was no point in depriving himself if he had money to spend.
In the suburbs of the North District, large private yards were common.
The problem was the distance and the inconvenience of the daily commute, so Ethan focused his attention on the Hyde Park community.
The University of Chicago was located there, and public safety was among the best in the South District, in addition to being close to his job.
—Wow… It's beautiful. Are you thinking about moving?
Erin's voice sounded beside him; she was now looking at the screen over Ethan's shoulder.
—But aren't they too expensive?
She approached with her coffee cup and leaned slightly, just enough for her perfume to reach him softly.
—Nice, right? I've been renting since I arrived, but I've thought about staying in Chicago for a while… so I figured something more permanent.
Ethan scrolled through the photos. It was an extremely exquisite private mansion. Tall trees surrounded it in an arc, creating a large outdoor space far from neighboring houses.
The interior decoration was luxurious while still fitting a younger style.
Gym, private cinema, cigar lounge, and wine cellar.
The main feature could be summed up in one word: extravagant.
—If I were Bill Gates, maybe… —Erin murmured.
She saw the price and raised her cup with an arched eyebrow.
—I, if I'm lucky, in a couple of years I'll save enough for the down payment on an apartment… and I'll be paying it off until I die. But hey, Richie Rich, since you can, go for it.
Erin knew Ethan had money, but those multi-million-dollar houses were out of reach for almost anyone. The more than five million made her gasp; after paying property taxes, not much of an average annual salary would remain.
Ethan tilted his head and glanced at her sideways.
—I could always rent you one of the rooms —he said casually—. Special discount for detectives with terrible taste in coffee.
Erin let out a soft laugh.
—Oh, really? Does that include access to the private theater or just the millionaire owner's bedroom?
—Depends —he replied, tilting the screen slightly toward her—. Some areas might require a personal invitation.
Their gazes met. Erin took a small sip of her coffee without looking away.
—Then I guess you'd better start saving for furniture…
Ethan smiled faintly.
The silence that followed was brief but comfortable. Then Erin straightened up, returning to her usual tone.
—Well, Richie Rich, when you buy the mansion, I hope the housewarming party has an open bar.
—Sure, only if you're there in a tiny bikini by the pool —he replied.
—You'll be lucky if you can get me out of there —she answered.
—What are you two talking about?
Atwater also approached and, when he saw the photos on the screen, scratched his head.
—The house is great. I'm also thinking of moving there soon.
Erin looked at him in surprise.
Atwater burst out laughing.
—When I win the Powerball, of course.
Ignoring the two jokers, Ethan took out his phone and wrote down the contact information for the real estate agent.
—Damn… you must be kidding. Do you really have the money to buy a house like that?
—Sure, I have some good investments…
Atwater blinked, clearly surprised.
—Are you serious?
—Of course. Besides, looking doesn't cost anything.
Ethan placed the phone on the desk and continued browsing other properties as if he were checking a restaurant menu and not multi-million-dollar mansions.
—Hm.
Erin shook her head, resting one hand on the back of Ethan's chair.
—You're thinking too much; to see houses like that, you need proof of funds. Bank statements, letters from the bank… a nice smile isn't enough.
—Hey —Atwater replied from his table— I have a nice smile, and they still don't show me penthouses.
—Because you ask about thirty-year payment plans —Erin answered without looking at him.
—Never underestimate the power of mystery —Ethan said, leaning back in his chair. Besides, if they don't believe me, I can always pay in cash.
Atwater whistled.
—Uh-huh, sure. —Erin rolled her eyes— People doing legitimate business don't get intimidated by cash payments; they'll either think you're corrupt or a trafficker, you know? They'll ask for proof anyway.
—Then I'll give it to them. That's not the problem —he replied with a shrug.
There was a brief silence. Erin studied him for a second longer than usual.
—I'm never going to fully understand you —she murmured.
—That keeps the fire in our relationship alive, Lind —he replied, turning his gaze back to the screen.
Between jokes and comments, time passed almost without them noticing.
The bullpen door opened, and Hank walked in with firm steps. The conversations immediately died down.
Under everyone's gaze, he shook his head.
—It wasn't the Rivera. Reliable information.
Just when morale dropped, Jin ran upstairs, excited.
—According to leads obtained today by a patrol officer during an interrogation, although it didn't provide much really useful information…
Jin took a deep breath, trying to catch his breath.
—We know it was a black Ford SUV, very similar to the ones we use in the department. Nothing flashy… which is exactly why it's easy to overlook.
Several people looked up.
—So I downloaded all police reports from the Chinatown area for the last seven days —he continued, raising his phone— After filtering and comparing them, Jin went on, ignoring the interruption— I found three calls mentioning vehicles with similar characteristics: black SUV, tinted windows, no visible plates or suspicious plates.
Jin nodded firmly.
—I checked the license numbers of the three vehicles. Two were real, belonging to residents with no records. The third… was fake.
Ethan narrowed his eyes.
—That already sounds better.
—I entered that fake plate into our early warning database —Jin continued, lifting his phone slightly— If it showed up again on any plate reader, it would alert us… and it just triggered. I already received the target's location.
Ethan stood up abruptly.
—Where?
Jin looked up.
—Chinatown. 236 West 21st Street.
Antonio didn't wait another second.
—I know that place.
Antonio stood up immediately.
—On the surface, it's a karaoke bar, but inside, there are several gaming rooms; it's also one of the Triad's casinos.
Ethan grabbed his jacket immediately. The others also sprang into action and, as they passed Jin, they gave him firm pats on the shoulder in encouragement.
Seven people, four cars, quickly headed toward Chinatown, home to a large Chinese and Asian population and also an area with a high incidence of organized crime linked to the Triads.
It didn't take long for them to reach West 21st Street, and from a distance they spotted the black Ford SUV Jin had mentioned, parked in front of a karaoke bar.
The Cadillac moved forward quickly and stopped behind the Ford.
Olinsky also positioned his vehicle in front, blocking the way and forming a pincer movement.
Ethan slowly drove past the main entrance; inside, everything seemed calm.
The people going in and out looked normal, with no unusual expressions.
That was strange; according to the case from that morning, those men should have already moved.