Kasabian didn’t wait for Ted to sit. The moment he got to the table, the cop started talking. “Why are we here? Mr. Nikitopoulos is in Manhattan. They’ve got half the cops in the city looking for him.”

“He was in Manhattan,” Ted said. “That was over an hour ago.”

“Did you see him?” Duran asked.

“No,” Ted said. “I missed him by minutes. But he’s on his way here.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because he’s in love with Cheryl Rubiano,” Ted said. “And she’s taking the fall for a slew of people. I think she is getting paid a boatload of cash and promised of a short sentence, but the big guy doesn’t care. He just wants his Velma back.”

“Give me that in small bites, so I don’t choke on it,” Duran said.

Ted focused on Duran, the more reasonable of the two. He filled him in quickly on the conversation at the aborted lunch with the Judge. “She’s the patsy and I would think they’re paying her well not to tattle.”

“Who the hell is Velma?” Kasabian asked.

“Cheryl,” Ted said. “Try to keep up, Detective.” He looked back to Duran. “He wants Cheryl, and if he can’t have her, he’s going to take it out on everyone she’s covering for. He shot the Reisners. Where’s Councilman Pak? He’s got to be on the hit list.”

Duran answered. “He’s with the feds explaining why he didn’t know anything about his assistant squeezing developers for bribes. That’s not an easy sell. He’ll be there for a while.”

“Who’s left?” Ted said. “The fat Russian who bankrolled the whole operation? I would think right now he’s in Brighton Beach surrounded by a wall of bodyguards.”

“That would be my guess,” Duran said. “Either there or the VIP lounge at JFK waiting for his flight out of the country.”

“And then there’s the lawyer. Reisner’s lawyer. The one who made the cash payments, handing them to Cheryl in the ladies’ room at that overpriced steak place. Jacqueline Clavette. That’s the name you wanted, Detective,” Ted said with a nod to Kasabian. “But you’ll find, if you go after her, that she’s untouchable. Any assistant DA who tries to make a case against her will find him- or herself reassigned to traffic court.”

“Where does she get that kind of juice?” Kasabian asked.

Ted thought about telling him but decided against it. There was no point. “It’s all about favors.”

Lester had been quiet and patient throughout. But he’d been following closely. “This is the guy you asked me about? The guy who tossed your apartment.”

“Right,” Ted answered.

“Nick Whatever. What was that all about?” Lester asked. “Why screw around with you? Was he working for the Russians or what?”