Of all the fascinating things that happened at Monday's federal sentencing hearing of former Chicago police Chief of Detectives William Hanhardt, there was one tidbit sure to send a tremble through the Outfit.

It was the dropping of a name, offering a hint of what might come from the FBI and the U.S. attorney's office. A possible target:

Rudy Fratto, a top lieutenant in the Elmwood Park faction of the Outfit, considered by law enforcement officials to be working under Joe "The Builder" Andriacchi and John "No Nose" DiFronzo.

Dropping Fratto's name, and releasing FBI surveillance made public on Monday, has probably caused severe stomach pain--I almost want to say agita--out west on Grand Avenue and into Elmwood Park.

There were many other interesting sights, too, including who wasn't there. Conspicuous by their absence were many of Hanhardt's former running mates on the Police Department.

But the old man wasn't alone. He still had his family. Angry and tired, Hanhardt's relatives took up several rows in the courtroom. They showed their support for the once legendary cop who has pleaded guilty to running a sophisticated Outfit-sponsored jewelry heist crew.

There was the bickering of the lawyers and the stern lecturing of U.S. District Judge Charles Norgle Sr., who argued that Hanhardt obstructed justice by trying to kill himself and missing a trial date.

Norgle compared Hanhardt's taking an overdose of pain pills last year to a self-inflicted wound on the battlefield.

"He shot himself in the foot so he did not have to go to the front line," Norgle said. "It was his own decision. He did it alone. It was his intention."

The hearing will continue Tuesday. Hanhardt could get 20 years in prison. The federal pressure is by design.

They want him to talk, and, so far, he's not talking.

Hanhardt was once known as a dapper dresser, but there he was in court, wearing his rumpled orange prison jumpsuit, fingering an old man's wooden cane.

His face was sallow after months in prison, but the street wolf in him still showed through, in contrast to the guys next to him, his silky attorneys with their thin wrists, their pens and paper and motions.

The court was crowded with onlookers, including a mysterious blond sitting in the front row. She wore an expensive suit, a diamond the size of a baby's fist flashing on her hand.

On Tuesday morning, FBI agent Edward "Ted" McNamara is scheduled to take the witness stand. McNamara has written an 86-page sealed affidavit detailing Hanhardt's connections over the decades to Outfit bosses.

Part of what McNamara knows was introduced Monday. In court lingo, it's called Stipulation Number Two, under the heading, "The Contract on the Partner of Ivan Mindlin."

It sounds like a Russian novel.

Mindlin ran a $14 million per week gambling operation in Venezuela known as "The Computer Group" and had a falling out with his partner, Ronald D. Hirchhorn.

According to prosecutors, Mindlin wanted Hirchhorn dead and went through Hanhardt to arrange it with the Chicago mob.

The then-retired Hanhardt met Mindlin in 1996, introduced by one of Mindlin's people, the bookie Dickie Stevens, who used to work with the late Tony Spilotro.

Prosecutors said Mindlin wanted Hanhardt to find out if three of Hirchhorn's friends--Tommy Billante, Marc Nelson and the quirkily named Joe Cadillac--were Outfit soldiers.

That alone wouldn't bother the Chicago Outfit much. But this must:

FBI surveillance and wiretaps put Hanhardt in meetings with Rudy Fratto.

There was a photograph introduced on Monday that showed Fratto in conversation with Hanhardt. There are wiretaps and other surveillance showing a meeting of Fratto, Mindlin and Hanhardt at the Admirals Club at O'Hare International Airport.

The killing was to have taken place the week of July 22, 1996, according to Hanhardt in wiretap conversations with the others.

Ultimately, it didn't happen. Someone decided not to kill Hirchhorn. Hanhardt's defense team characterized him as a peacemaker.

There were other arguments, and allegations, including Hanhardt reportedly compromising a Drug Enforcement Administration investigation of known mob figures here by calling detectives working on the case.

But the U.S. attorney's focus on Fratto is significant. They're telling the Outfit that they have more.

He doesn't get publicity. And he doesn't have a criminal record, even though the FBI calls him a boss of the Elmwood Park crew.

The dropping of his name is a clear signal.

They're heating up Rudy Fratto.