I stick my hand quickly into my leather bag and randomly pull out a bunch of infant files. I thrust the files toward Orlov. “Here,” I say. “Here’s the proof. Here are actual midwife reports of real mothers with real babies, babies on the way, babies just born.”

I watch as Orlov turns his head toward Nina. She gives a small Maybe this is for real shrug. Orlov apparently thinks otherwise. He grabs the files from my hand and scatters them on the ground. He then steps forward and puts his face only a few inches from my own.

“I want you to report to the NYPD that I will never do business with them. Do you understand me?”

Astonishingly—or not—I find that I am not frozen in fear, and I decide that my one bit of revenge will be to ignore him. He expects me to buckle under his orders. I am determined that I will not.

“I asked if you understand me,” he says.

I continue to say nothing.

“Do you understand?”

On the nearby pathway a parked car, a car that I never noticed in the darkness, turns on its headlights.

It must be Blumenthal and Bobby Cilia. With any luck, it just might be the whole goddamn cavalry.

Orlov glances in the direction of the car. He says to Nina, “The driver is ready. Let’s go.”

Orlov and Nina walk quickly to what is instead their own waiting car. Orlov turns and looks at me. He yells, “The question. Again. Do you understand?”

I don’t remember answering. I don’t remember movement or noise or voices.

What I remember next is Leon Blumenthal hugging me, my head against his chest. Blumenthal says, “We wouldn’t have let them hurt you. You know that, Lucy. You got some great stuff out of them. You were absolutely terrific.”

I say, “But they said nothing…they…”

“We’re going to get them,” Blumenthal says. “You’ll see.”

“We’re going to get them”? “Terrific”? What the hell?

I guess I’ll never understand police work.

Chapter 50

Chapter 50

AFTER A FEW HOURS of rough sleep, I’m tired as hell the rest of the day. And I’m not in the mood for big decisions. The only significant choice I make is to wear my eyeglasses instead of my contacts. On the subway into Manhattan, I miraculously get a seat, and I miraculously make it to Gramatan University Hospital without falling asleep in that seat.

I notice six NYPD officers instead of the usual three standing outside the main entrance. I also can’t help but notice a small crowd of spectators and a larger crowd of TV cameras.