“You have that right. But I wouldn’t if I were you. It won’t do any good.”

My tone of voice, something, stopped Lipton from making the call. His flabby hand moved away from the phone on his desk. “Why?” he asked.

I said, “I don’t care about you. You’re involved in murder. But I’ve seen your kids, your wife. We’ve been watching you at the house. We’ve already spoken to your neighbors and friends. When you’re arrested, your family will be in danger. We can protect them from the Wolf.”

Lipton’s face and neck reddened, and he erupted with “What the hell is wrong with you? Are you crazy? I’m a respected businessman. I never kidnapped or harmed another human being in my life. This is crazy.”

“You gave the orders. The money came to you. Mr. Potter sent you a hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars. Or rather, the FBI did.”

“I’m calling my lawyer,” Lipton screamed. “This is ridiculous and insulting. I don’t have to take this from anybody.”

I shrugged. “Then you’re going down in the worst possible way. These offices will be searched immediately. And then your home in Highland Park. Your parents’ home in Kessler Park will be searched. Your father’s office will be searched. Your wife’s offices at the museum of art will be searched.”

He picked up his phone. I could see that his hand was shaking, though. Then he whispered, “Go fuck yourself.”

I pulled out a two-way and spoke into it. “Hit the offices and the houses,” I said. I turned back to Lipton. “You’re under arrest. You can call your lawyer now. Tell him you’ve been taken to the FBI offices.”

Minutes later, a dozen agents stormed into the office, with its gorgeous city views and stylish and expensive furnishings.

We arrested Sterling.

Chapter 96

Chapter 96

PASHA SOROKIN WAS CLOSE BY, and he was watching everyone and everything with great interest. Maybe it was time to show the FBI how these things were done in Moscow, to show them that this wasn’t a child’s game to be played with rules made up by the police.

He had been there outside Sterling’s office building in Dallas when the FBI team rushed inside. More than a dozen of them came calling. A strange assemblage, to be sure: some dressed in dark business suits, others in dark blue windbreakers with FBI boldly imprinted on the back. Who did they really expect to find here? The Wolf? Others from the Wolf’s Den?