“I’ve never heard of him,” the Judge said. He showed nothing more than a mild impatience. “The Reisners play hardball. Ask any of their competitors. They are capable of bending rules and making decisions that reflect ethical or moral persuasions many might find deplorable. That’s their world. Saints don’t prosper in the New York real estate markets. But murder? Or murder for hire? No, Ted. That is not possible.”

“I don’t think they control the situation anymore,” Ted said. He’d witnessed two murder attempts on McKenzie Zielinski and was still shaking off the effects of his fight with the assassin. He didn’t want to hear about the ethical gymnastics of the rich and powerful. “Reisner is working with people who will use any means necessary to protect their investments. Richie got in their way.”

The Judge blinked owlishly. Processing or denying? He mumbled something, then tried to steer the conversation back to what he knew. “The Russians are being handled. There will be no more assaults on your community organizer. You have my word.”

But Ted wasn’t buying. He didn’t want weak promises. He was disgusted with opportunistic morality. Lines had been crossed that should never have been approached. “She’s still in a coma, dammit, and you give me nothing but words.” A strong, beautiful, caring human being was lying in a hospital bed, unconscious and a breath away from death, and no one would be held responsible. His stomach knotted at the outrage, and he yelled, “Who pays? Someone is going to prison for this. I swear it.”

The waiter appeared at the table, almost trembling. Ted had been loud, he realized, but there was no one else there to hear. The Judge waved Oliver away, but he presented a phone. “I am so sorry to intrude, but the policeman was insistent that he speak to you.” He pressed the phone into the Judge’s hands and retreated.

“This is Cornelius Fitzmaurice. To whom am I speaking?” The Judge’s voice held a lifetime of service on the bench.

Whoever it was wasted little time delivering his news. The Judge’s face registered shock, then anger. He listened for less than a minute, then spoke calmly and coldly. “Thank you for the call, Lieutenant Bass. I will not forget your consideration.” He pressed the button to disconnect and looked at Ted with a touch of confusion in his eyes. “Do you know a Stavros person?”

“I’ve met him. He’s a friend of Cheryl’s.” Ted could see the Judge was deeply shaken. He kept talking to hold back the delivery of more-terrible news. “A detective told me that he’s a small-time hood. An enforcer.”