Ted walked back and took it from him. He checked inside. His driver’s license. The envelope with Cheryl’s money. He counted it. All there. He looked up at Officer Menendez, who was making no effort to hide his smirk. “Thank you again. I’ll be sure to let everyone know how hospitable you’ve all been.”

“Have a good day.”

But Ted was out the door, his fingers already punching in Kenzie’s number on his phone. “These sons of bitches left me sitting on a goddamn folding chair and went out the back door.”

“So they’re not holding you?”

“No. Damn it.”

“You’ll have to explain why that’s a bad thing.”

“Damn. How’s Lester?”

“Sleeping it off. He did some self-medication with that bottle of vodka.”

“Damn.”

“He’ll be fine. He needs the rest. I left him wrapped in blankets.”

“You have the car and driver?”

“Mohammed? We’re headed your way now.”

Ted was standing on the curb outside the entrance. The street was lined with automobiles parked half-on, half-off the sidewalk. Police cruisers, government issue, stripped down models, and personal vehicles took up all the space in front of the spiked iron fence. Pedestrians would have to worm their way through or walk in the street. Wheelchairs, baby strollers, and shopping carts had no chance of getting through. If the point was to prevent terrorists from being able to place a car bomb directly in front of the precinct, it was an effective barrier, at the expense of community inconvenience and disfavor. Ted thought the explanation was much simpler—the cops parked there because they could get away with it.

“There’s a deli on the corner,” he said. “I’ll be waiting out front.”

“Eight minutes,” she said.

It took less.

Mohammed looked a little wild-eyed. “Are we in the hood?” he asked as Ted hopped in the back.

“Are you nervous?” Ted asked. Considering that the man’s home country was practically in a perpetual state of war, Ted was unprepared for this shyness.

Mohammed muttered something that sounded like prayers.

“I think all this cloak-and-dagger action has pushed Mohammed out of his comfort zone,” Kenzie said. “We may want to give him the night off.” She appeared to be calm and in control.

Ted thought they could all use some down time, but it wasn’t in the cards. “We need to regroup and come up with another plan,” he said.

“What do you really think happened with the Judge?” Kenzie asked.

“He survived Albany politics for fifty years,” Ted said. “He’s developed an infallible threat-alert system. If he could patent it, he could make billions licensing it to the military.”

“He set you up?”

“Beautifully. I’m sure of it.”

She laughed gently.

“And that’s funny because . . . ?”

“Lester played us the recording of you and those cops.”

Ted grimaced. “I’m sure that in another decade or two, I will also find it amusing.”