“You called it right, Detective,” Wallace said to Sachs, who stared at him in shock. “We’ve got a situation . . . a situation.” He pulled out his cell phone and made a call to one of the officers in front, also part of the extortion scheme. “All clear?”

“Yep.”

Wallace disconnected the phone.

Sachs said, “You? It was you? But . . .” Her head swivelled toward Flaherty.

The inspector asked, “What’s this all about?”

The deputy mayor nodded at the inspector and said to Sachs, “Wrong in a big way. She had nothing to do with it. Dennis Baker and I were partners—but business partners. On Long Island. We grew up there. Had a recycling company together. It went bust and he went to the academy, became a cop. I got another business up and running. Then I got involved in city politics and we stayed in touch. I became police liaison and ombudsman and got a feel for what kind of scams worked and what didn’t. Dennis and I came up with one that did.”

“Robert!” Flaherty snapped. “No, no . . .”

“Ah, Marilyn . . .” was all the silver-haired man could muster.

“So,” Amelia Sachs said, her shoulders sagging, “what’s the scenario here?” She gave a grim laugh. “The inspector kills me and then kills herself. You plant some money in her house. And . . .”

“And Dennis Baker dies in jail—he messes with the wrong inmate, falls down the stairs, who knows? Too bad. But he should’ve been more careful. No witnesses, that’s the end of the case.”

“You think anybody’s going to buy it? Somebody at the One One Eight’ll turn. They’ll get you sooner or later.”

“Well, excuse me, Detective, but we have to put out the fires we’ve got, don’t you think? And you’re the biggest fucking fire I’ve got at the moment.”

“Listen, Robert,” Flaherty said, her voice brittle, “you’re in trouble but it’s not too late.”

Wallace pulled on gloves. “Check the street again, tell them to get the car ready.” The deputy mayor picked up Sachs’s Glock.

The man walked to the door.

Wallace’s eyes turned cold as he looked over Sachs and took a firm grip on the pistol.

Sachs stared into his eyes. “Wait.”

Wallace frowned.

She looked him over, eerily calm under the circumstances, he thought. Then she said, “ESU One, move in.”

Wallace blinked. “What?”

To the deputy mayor’s shock, a man’s voice shouted from the darkened back room, “Nobody move! Or I will fire!”

What was this?

Gasping, Wallace looked into the doorway, where an ESU officer was standing, his H&K machine gun’s muzzle moving from the politician to Henson at the front door.

Sachs reached down and grabbed something under the table. Her hand emerged with another Glock. She must’ve clipped it there earlier! She spun to the front door, training the pistol on Henson. “Drop the weapon! Get down on the floor!” The ESU officer shifted his gun back to the deputy mayor.