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We All Fall Down (Michael Kelly Series #4)

We All Fall Down (Michael Kelly Series #4)

3.8 24
by Michael Harvey

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A light bulb falls in a subway tunnel, releasing a deadly pathogen.
Within hours, a homeless man, a cop, and then dozens more start to die.
Hospitals become morgues. El trains become rolling hearses.
Chicago is on the verge of chaos before the mayor finally acts, quarantining entire sections of the city. Meanwhile, private


A light bulb falls in a subway tunnel, releasing a deadly pathogen.
Within hours, a homeless man, a cop, and then dozens more start to die.
Hospitals become morgues. El trains become rolling hearses.
Chicago is on the verge of chaos before the mayor finally acts, quarantining entire sections of the city. Meanwhile, private investigator and former cop Michael Kelly hunts for the people responsible. The search takes him into the tangled underworld of Chicago’s West Side gangs and cops on the take, and the terrifying world of black biology—an elite field operating covertly at the nation’s top labs, where scientists play God and will do anything necessary to keep their secrets safe.

Editorial Reviews

From the Publisher
“Dark-hearted, intoxicating. . . .  Nerve-jangling scary.” —Milwaukee Journal-Sentinel

“An utterly persuasive view of a present-day apocalyptic nightmare.” —Publishers Weekly (starred review)

“Harvey does for the Windy City what Michael Connelly did for Los Angeles: He commandeers it, warts and all, and wrangles it into his fiction.” —Chicago Tribune
“[Harvey] weaves Chicago history and politics with the conventions of mystery writing to create meditations on power—how it’s used, who it helps, and the way it hurts. . . . Honest, smart and funny.” —Chicago Sun-Times
“[A] knockout thriller. . . . Harvey renders Kelly’s Chicago in crisp, tough and ironic prose.” —The Washington Post Book World

“The suspense hums and the dialogue is truthfully tough, but it’s the writing that elevates Harvey to the top of the PI genre. He’s the best Chicago novelist . . . since Nelson Algren.” —The Plain Dealer
“Harvey is a budding superstar.” —The Daily News

“Multiple threads come together but not before the final pages. Until then, Harvey twists the plot like a braided rope, ratcheting up tension with the ensuing pages.” —The Missourian

“A major new voice.” —Michael Connelly

Marilyn Stasio
Michael Harvey's Chicago crime novels nail that city right between the eyes…this new book…has a bioterrorism angle that expands the street action into a truly terrifying apocalyptic nightmare.
—The New York Times
Publishers Weekly
Harvey shows how a thriller focused on bioterrorism should be done in his outstanding fourth novel featuring Chicago PI Michael Kelly (after The Third Rail). At a high-level meeting that includes the city's mayor and Homeland Security agents, two scientists reveal that a biowarning device in a subway tunnel has detected the possible presence of a pathogen. Kelly provides security for the biologists when they visit the site of what everyone hopes is a false positive. Skeptical of the explanation for why the Feds or Chicago PD aren't being used for the job, Kelly soon learns that some form of superbug is felling Chicagoans left and right. As the city is quarantined, Kelly risks his life to track down the truth, a search that brings him into conflict with the Mafia and a ruthless narcotics gang. The complexity of the plot never overwhelms the narrative flow in this utterly persuasive view of a present-day apocalyptic nightmare. (July)

Product Details

Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
Publication date:
Michael Kelly Series , #4
Sales rank:
Product dimensions:
4.10(w) x 6.80(h) x 1.40(d)

Read an Excerpt


My eyes flicked open. The clock read 4:51 a.m., and I was wide awake. I’d been dreaming—-rich colors, shapes, and places—-but couldn’t remember all the details. It didn’t matter. I climbed out of bed and shuffled down the hallway. Rachel Swenson sat in an armchair by the front windows. The pup was asleep in her lap.

“Hey,” I said.

She turned, face paled in light from the street, eyes a glittering reflection of my grief and guilt. “Hey.”

“That dog can sleep anywhere.” I pulled a chair close. Maggie slipped an eye open, yawned, stretched, and went back to sleep.

“I should be staying at my place,” Rachel said.

“I like you here.”

She tickled two bandaged fingers across the top of the pup’s head and ran her eyes back toward the windows. Rachel was a sitting judge for the Northern District of Illinois. And one of the finest people I knew. She was also damaged. Because she was my girlfriend. Or, rather, had been.

“I was going to make a cup of tea,” I said. “You want one?”

She shook her head. I stayed where I was. And we sat together in the darkness.

“You can’t sleep?” she said.


She nodded, and we sat some more.

“What’s the knife for, Rach?”

She looked down at the knife tucked into her left hand. “I got it from the kitchen.”


Her gaze drifted to a small table and the slab of cheese that sat on it. “You want a piece?”

I shook my head. She held the blade up between us. “You thought I was going to hurt someone?”

“Just wondering about the knife, Rach.”

“I’m fine.” It had been almost a month since the attack. Most of the swelling in her face was gone—-the bruises reduced to faint traces of yellow.

“What did you dream about?” she said.

“I usually don’t remember.”


“Sometimes I get premonitions. Twice before. I wake up and feel certain things have happened.”

“If they’ve already happened, they’re not premonitions.”

“You’re right.”

“Are you going to make your tea?”

“In a minute.”

“Tell me about them,” she said, cutting off a small slice of cheese and nibbling at a corner.

“The dreams?”

“The premonitions.”

“I got the first one when my brother died.”


“I was seventeen. Woke up in the middle of the night and walked out to our living room.”


“I sat in front of the phone and stared at it for ten minutes until it rang. The warden told me he’d killed himself. Hung himself in a cell with his bedsheet. But it wasn’t anything I didn’t already know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Second time was a couple years back—-the night my father died.”

I remembered my eyes opening, tasting the old man’s passing like dry dust at the back of my throat. I pulled out the whiskey that night and filled a glass. Then I sat by the phone again until it rang.

“And now?” Rachel said.

“That’s the thing. I’m not sure this time.”

“But it’s something.”

“I believe so, yes.”

She got up from the chair and settled the pup on the couch. “I’ll make the tea.”

I listened to her rattle the tap in the kitchen, then set the kettle. I got up and pulled a book off the shelf, Thucydides’s History of the Peloponnesian War. It took me a moment to find the passage. Book 2, chapter 7. The historian’s description of the Plague of Athens.

All speculation as to its origin and its causes . . . I leave to other writers, whether lay or professional; for myself, I shall simply set down its nature, and explain the symptoms by which perhaps it may be recognized by the student, if it should ever break out again. This I can the better do, as I had the disease myself, and watched its operation in the case of others.

I thought about Thucydides, surrounded by death, touched himself, scribbling down its essence for us to read twenty—four hundred years later. I’d lied to Rachel. I knew what I feared. Knew why I feared it. I closed my eyes and they were there—-two lightbulbs hanging in the darkness of the Chicago subway. Inside their glass skin, a question mark. Something the old historian himself might struggle to decipher.

The kettle began to whistle. On cue, the phone rang. Rachel watched from the doorway as I picked up. It wasn’t a voice I expected to hear. And that was exactly what I expected. I listened without saying more than a word or two. Finally, the voice stopped talking—-waiting, apparently, for a reaction.

“Where are you?” I said. The voice told me.

“I’ll be there in an hour.” I hung up. Rachel looked like she might speak, then turned away. Maggie was awake now and staring at me from the couch.

“You want breakfast?”

The pup’s ears perked up at the last word. I walked toward the kitchen. She beat me there by the length of the living room.

“Was it what you thought?” Rachel handed me a mug of tea.

“I don’t know.”

I fed the dog. We both listened to her crunch away and then lick the bowl clean.

“I have to go out,” I said.

“I can’t be here when you get back.”

“Rach . . .”

“Stop.” She raised her arm and touched her hand to her face, as if I were about to hit her. Then she turned and left. The pup followed. I walked back into the bedroom and got dressed. When I returned to the living room, Rachel was curled up on the couch.

“I’ll talk to you later,” I said. She didn’t respond. I was going to say more, but recalled the lessons of saying too much. So I left.

It was still dark out as I tramped down Addison. The first streaks of morning stained the Chicago night—-fresh paint on an old canvas. Underneath, a city slept. Everywhere, it seemed, except in my dreams. And the dreams of those I cared about.

Meet the Author

Michael Harvey is the author of The Chicago Way, The Fifth Floor, and The Third Rail and is also a journalist and documentary producer. His work has won multiple Emmy Awards, and has received two Primetime Emmy nominations and an Academy Award nomination, among numerous other awards. He holds a law degree from Duke University, a master’s degree in journalism from Northwestern University, and a bachelor’s degree in classical languages from Holy Cross College. He lives, of course, in Chicago.

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We All Fall Down 3.8 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 24 reviews.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Even if you are not a follower of Chicago and the intricacies of its' politics, you will not be disappointed in this author and his characters. Keeps you interested and guessing.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
In a continuation of his last Michael Kelly book, Harvey once again takes readers through a harrowing ride for the citizens of Chicago. It might take a while to tie all the strings together, but as usual (so far), it is well worth the effort to get there.
Amacce More than 1 year ago
The Kelly Series from Harvey has been excellent from the first book. This fourth installment does not fall short. The characters are wonderful. The writing style is always intriguing. And the detail is excellent without being over the top. The only reason this book does not get 5 stars is because it simply ends too quickly. I can not wait for number five!! Wonderful book, but I do recomend you start with the first book, The Chicago Way.
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What a great story. I have really enjoyed the series and like how the author keeps everything moving so well. This book was a great story that kept my attention and made me want to keep reading.
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harstan More than 1 year ago
Two scientists inform the Chicago Mayor Wilson and Homeland Security agent Danielson that the "Canary" bio-warning device in a subway tunnel has detected a pathogen. Danielson uses the death of FBI Agent Lawson to force private investigator Michael Kelly to cooperate. He is blackmailed into serving as security by accompanying biologists Dr. Ellen Brazile and Dr. Molly Carrolton to the locale of the alarm to test and hopefully prove a false positive reading occurred. Kelly has issues why HSD especially the FBI is not in the tunnels instead of a mercenary. However, they prove to late when a pathogen is released from a light bulb into the subway city leaving the potential to turn Chicago into a gigantic wasteland morgue. People begin to die while the Feds, state and city officials argue over what to do beyond quarantining Chicago. On his own initiative Kelly investigates which leads him to gangs and top secret labs where superbugs are created. This is a great complex yet action-packed thriller with an incredibly dynamic last twist that never slows down as time is running out on the city. The story line grips the reader who appreciatively (from an armchair) accompanies Michael as he heroically tries to prevent a disaster from turning pandemic. The least Kelly investigation (see The Third Rail, The Chicago Way and The Fifth Floor) is a great tale. Harriet Klausner
Edward Geil More than 1 year ago
Simply awful