Ted felt no sympathy for him. The Judge had operated as though he could control all the players, manipulating each one to secure success on his terms, as he saw fit.

A new revelation hit Ted.

“Jackie,” he said.

-71-

-71-

Ted grabbed the phone from the Judge and punched in Jill’s number. She answered on the first ring.

“Where’s Jackie?” Ted said. “She’s in danger.” If Jackie was at work, she was safe. The giant wouldn’t be able to reach her. Security in the lobby would never let him into an elevator.

“I thought this was her calling. Why should she be in danger?” Jill said. She sounded arch and dismissive. She did not believe him.

Ted gave her the shortest version he could devise. “The Reisners were attacked a little while ago by a professional thug. Your grandfather and I think Jackie will be on this guy’s list.”

“What have you done?” she growled in full attack mode. It was family dogma: when threatened, attack.

“Jill,” he cried, “listen to me.” He heard the click and the immediate return of the dial tone. He hit redial. Straight to voice mail. “Damn.” Jill was alone and that mad giant would walk right through her if he thought he’d find Jackie there. Ted had to get there.

He tossed the phone to the Judge, who fumbled but caught it. “See if Jackie’s here in the building. If she is, get her someplace safe.”

The Judge was still in shock. Ted didn’t have time—or the inclination—to coddle him. “Now! Make the call,” Ted ordered. The Judge gasped once and dialed.

Ted dashed out of the dining room, heading for the elevators. Jill’s apartment was thirty blocks uptown. A mile and a half. In college he ran two miles a day—four when he had to make weight. He wasn’t a track athlete. Eight-minute miles had been his norm, and he had not run a mile in ten years or more.

There were three IT staffers—easy to identify by their blue color-coded swipe cards hanging from lanyards, as well as their identical wardrobe of khaki pants and black polo shirts—waiting at the elevator banks. The doors of a car opened as Ted approached, and he barged past the techies.

“Take the next one,” he snarled. They stopped in surprise. Ted hit the button for lobby.

He stopped before stepping out onto the street. The two marshals were standing by the big SUV, ostentatiously taking up space in a well-marked no-parking zone. They towered over a brown-jacketed traffic cop who was having no trouble ignoring them while writing a ticket.