“To make sure the guy dies. It’s very potent. The challenge is that Rothman and his sidekick work in one of the premier medical centers in the world. The salmonella, no matter how virulent it might be, cannot be counted on by itself. One or both of them could be saved. That’s a chance that cannot be taken. We need to be sure. One-hundred-percent sure, ergo the polonium, and a massive dose of it to boot.”

“So where the hell do you get this stuff? Who’s going to buy it? Russell?”

“You hire the right people. Professionals.”

“You’ve been watching too many movies,” Edmund said. “So tell me, Jerry, who is going to procure this deadly radioactive poison for us?”

“Albanians.”

“Albanians?” Edmund’s voice betrayed his skepticism.

“There’s an Albanian Mafia that’s grown big in New York in the last twenty years. Very violent, very ruthless. But also very reliable, if you do business with them. Their word is their bond and all that. The FBI put a crimp in their operations in the nineties, but they’ve grown back and they’re looking to make names for themselves again. You’re going to ask, how do I know? I got this from a man who spent years of his life trying to put these guys in jail. He gave me a name.”

Jerry held out a piece of paper, folded in half, for Edmund. Edmund thrust his hands in his coat pockets and looked at Jerry.

“You’re out of your fucking mind.”

Jerry let Edmund stew for a couple of minutes. Edmund had moved down to the edge of his property and was standing, looking out at the gray water of the Sound. Jerry could imagine Edmund’s state of mind—part of him horrified to even consider such a thing, another part telling him he had no option but to consider doing it. Which side was winning? Jerry decided to play his trump card. He didn’t want to have to do this either, but again, there was no choice. He walked down to join Edmund and stood about four feet to his right, looking ahead.

“I know about you and Gloria Croft.”

“What about me and Gloria Croft? You mean personally?” Edmund waited a beat, then turned to look at Jerry, who was stony-faced and staring straight ahead.

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“So you know what I’m talking about?”

“Yes, yes. Gloria and I had a . . . a thing when we were working together.”

“When you were her boss.”

“Yes, Jerry, Jesus, what does that have to do with anything?”

“You got married young, I believe.”

“I was married at the time. I admit it, I was a bad boy. I got carried away, and I wasn’t the only one who’s ever done that. You tell me you never did. But I learned my lesson. I steer very clear of bitches like her.”