Chicago Book Reference Novels & Stories

Chapter 2 Fucking Chicago, the iconic “Windy City” and the historical playground of Al Capone, my personal favorite gangster. Here I am, stepping out of my sleek private jet that just touched down at a secluded terminal in O’Hare airport. The sharp breeze instantly caresses my face, a stark reminder that I’ve entered unfamiliar territory. My purpose here is clear: to reclaim what rightfully belongs to me.

When the car came to a stop in front of the old library, I dashed out. The building was the first and oldest in Chicago. It held classic books and had always been a reference place for history scholars. I marched into the building while Mile’s feet clicked behind me. We reached the first floor and stopped at the reception. There was an old man stationed behind a counter and right behind him was a corridor that exposed a vast collection of books held by tall towers and massive shelves. “Good day, sir.” I cleared my throat loudly. He immediately pulled out a register and slapped it on the counter.

Chapter 64: The Chicago Don Regina’s P.O.V The Casino we were heading to was located right in the heart of downtown Chicago, in the middle of a busy street bustling with food carts and small, local, family owned businesses. The streets were decorated with colorful lanterns and fairy lights and it looked more like an advanced Christmas celebration rather than a hub for illegal trade and gambling.

Instead of thinking deeply, I simply change my thoughts. Maybe nothing really includes this place on the map. I didn't think deeply because it might affect myself again. My mind is so full right now of what I discover. That's enough first. I lay down on my bed and my eyes caught sight of the book next to me. I got up immediately and picked it up. This is the book the woman that gave me at the library. The girl who is the magician. I didn't notice that I get this book up until here. I looked at its cover and it was written here, The History of Chicago. Pretty interesting because I already know something about the place I'm stepping on, but I'm so tired right now to read more.

Tony Sabatini… “Hey, do you want to go to Gillam’s for book buying and an early, or even better a later dinner?” Gillam’s is a shopping plaza in an old-school tiny strip mall of four businesses. There’s a store that had joined two of the stores into one for anime lovers to get manga new and old, as well as a huge selection of gear. There’s a coffee shop on one side of it and a sushi place on the other. It was a place we went often. Although we never told our mom as it’s in the Rogers Park area, south of Evanston. The last neighborhood for Chicago proper on the east side, right up against Lake Michigan. And the last neighborhood to be rehabbed. We never went after dark because the one time we

A moment later, Chicago zigzagged her way to the elderly woman. These days, Grandma Solomon was fairly spirited even though she was confused. Seeing Chicago, she smiled kindly. Chicago's large eyes sparkled as she looked at her, then at the fairy tale book resting on her lap. "Do you like this story book too?" Chicago asked with bright eyes. Grandma Solomon didn't hear well and thought the child wanted the book, so she shakily picked it up and handed it over, "Here..." Charles stepped forward, "Thank you, Grandma, but we don't need it."

I stood in my apartment; my apartment, my lamp, my bookshelf, my research notes, my life, and I breathed. Outside, Chicago was doing what it did. The El rattled. The wind moved off the lake. Somewhere blocks away a car horn and somewhere else a laugh and somewhere else the ordinary magnificent percussion of a city that never stopped regardless of what was happening inside the lives it held. I went to the desk. I picked up Dr. Webb's notes. I went back to work.

Three rotating positions now, no face yet. I forwarded it to Nikolai without comment and went to work. Around midday I found Ace in the library. He had pulled three books off the shelf and was reading the back covers one after the other. "Finding anything useful," I said from the doorway. He looked up. "Depends on what useful means." "Are any of them interesting." He held one up. "This one is about the history of organised crime in Chicago. I feel like that is either very relevant or deeply ironic given where I am standing."

The silver mark at my temple flared hot. The city answered. Deep beneath Chicago— something woke up.