Ted saw his chance and took it. He walked out the door and cut to his left, walking fast like a New Yorker but not pushing it. The traffic was at a standstill going both downtown and up. If he could make it across the madness of Fifty-Seventh Street, the marshals would never even know he’d gone.

He darted between cars as he crossed Fifty-Sixth. One block to go. He risked a look back. A mistake. From a block away, their eyes met. The marshal saw him. She grabbed her partner by the arm and pointed. Ted ran.

As soon as he did, his body reminded him of the events of the previous night. He had pain when he needed energy. He hurt and felt winded after the first few running steps. The pedestrian light across the street was already counting down into single digits. He stumbled but kept moving.

And then he was in the street—half running, half walking. The crosswalk timer ticked down: 3, 2, 1. The red hand stopped flashing and turned solid. He pushed ahead, passing the centerline. He looked to his right. Taxis in the inside lane. A city bus in the curb lane, followed by a fire engine. The bus was already moving, easing through the last remains of the red light.

A siren sounded and for a nanosecond Ted thought it was the fire engine signaling the bus to get out of the way. He leapt the last few feet to the relative safety of the sidewalk before the realization hit. The sound had come from behind him. He looked over his shoulder and his heart soared. Rather than following him on foot, the two marshals were back in the SUV attempting to force their way through two solid lines of traffic. They still had to make a U-turn. They were obviously expecting their flashing lights and siren to have an effect on Midtown Manhattan drivers.

The light changed. The bus slid across the intersection and stopped behind a cab depositing a fare in front of the Citibank. Ted considered making a dash for the emptying cab but decided against it. It was already committed to continuing west on Fifty-Seventh and away from Jill’s apartment. Ted quickstepped across the avenue as the fire truck edged forward and stopped, blocked by the bus and in turn blocking traffic. Flashing lights two blocks south marked the location of the black SUV.

Both Fifty-Eighth and Fifty-Ninth Streets were one-way eastbound. The chances of finding an empty cab before the far corner of Sixtieth were nil. Ted could no longer run, but he pushed himself to walk as fast as he could. Pedestrian traffic thinned out on the far side of Fifty-Ninth. He made better time, but he was afraid to check his watch.