Ted walked east toward Lexington. He didn’t have a plan—yet. He took out his phone and called the Judge. After answering a series of maddening robot-generated questions, Ted was connected to the dining room phone.

“He’d been there and gone,” Ted said. “The police are with Jill now. She took a punch, but she’s going to be fine. She’s safe.”

The Judge blew a sigh of relief before reporting his news—or lack of it. “Jacqueline is not in the building. Security has her logging out two hours ago.”

“You called her?” Ted’s promise to Jill, so quickly given, was already in doubt.

“Her phone goes straight to voice mail. Could she be hiding?”

Ted thought for a moment. “No. She wouldn’t have known he was looking for her. Or about Reisner getting shot. It’s something else.” He was exhausted. He couldn’t think. He needed food, rest, and most of all he needed the world to stop moving. “Keep me posted.”

He turned up Lexington. When he had lived in the neighborhood with Jill, there had been a decent deli on the block. It was now a Taco Bell. The menu board was too confusing to read. Combos? Only aficionados would be able to make sense of the various permutations available.

“I need something filling. Calories. What do I want?”

The middle-aged woman at the cash register looked at him in wonder. “You never eat at Taco Bell before?”

“Guilty,” he said.

“Best value is the chicken Quesarito. Six hundred fifty calories for under four bucks with tax. You want guac on it? It costs.”

“Sure. Can I get extra cheese? Load it up.”

“Three cheese blend, jalapenos, refried beans, fritos, dressing, salsa, and low-fat sour cream.”

“Low-fat? Really? Bring it on.”

“You can get lettuce, too.”

“No need to overdo,” Ted said.

Half a quesarito later, Ted began to wake up. His brain was functioning again, and he knew where Jackie had gone. And where the giant was headed. He called Lester.

“Are you all right?” Lester asked. “Where are you?”

“Better than ever.” Ted spoke around a mouthful of restorative grilled quesadilla. Four Con Ed workers in neon-green vests were eating at the next table, their blue helmets taking up half the surface. As one, they suddenly exploded in laughter. A single woman diner looked up in alarm. It all felt so real compared to the last forty-eight hours of his life. “Upper East Side. How soon can Mohammed get here?”

“It’s Friday,” Lester said.

“Yeah?”

“It’s the Muslim Sabbath. You didn’t know that?”

“No. I didn’t know.” How did Lester? He and Mohammed seemed to speak to each other only in asides through Ted. “Did Duran get hold of you? I told him to call.”