Lester was direct. Ted liked that. The man was taking the work seriously. But his past was a blank—and he drank. Ted had nothing against a man who took a drink or two, but a man who needed to was an entirely different matter. His father had been such a man, and the best thing he had ever done for Ted was to leave.

The cab whipped over to the right at Ninety-First Avenue, crossing two lanes of heavy traffic without causing any immediate destruction, and continued barreling south in the service lane, avoiding the overpass. Ted took a slow breath when the car came to rest a moment later, blocking a fire hydrant outside of a divey-looking strip club.

“Where you friend?” Mohammed asked.

Lester wasn’t there.

“Give him a minute. We got here a little quicker than I expected,” Ted said.

Mohammed let his impatience show by turning up the radio. Brian Lehrer was taking calls from listeners who favored the LBC development in Queens.

LBC again, Ted thought. The media was in a self-regenerating loop and would remain there until, by some sleight of hand that would ever escape him, the subject changed, and the cameras and microphones about-faced and stampeded in a new direction.

The featured guest was Queens councilman Kevin (Ki-nam) Pak, whose district did not encompass the project, though he was undoubtedly on the pro side. Therefore, the conversations between Pak and the callers were a bit tepid. Lehrer was frustrated—everyone was making nice. No drama. Pak had probably agreed to come on the show only if he didn’t have to argue with protestors on the air.

“And we now have McKenzie from Ridgewood,” Lehrer said. “McKenzie? Are you there?”

“Hi, Brian. I always enjoy your show.”

“Thank you. Are you calling to thank Councilman Pak for his support of this project?”

“I wanted to ask Mr. Pak one question . . .”

Ted knew that woman’s voice. The protestor from the courthouse. There couldn’t be two. Like silk and good whiskey. A voice like that ought to be licensed.

“I want to know how much LBC paid him under the table to switch—”

They cut her off.

“Please, people,” Lehrer said. “We know there are a lot of you out there who have strong feelings about this development, and you will get your turn to air those feelings. Tomorrow. Today we want to hear from those of you who support . . .”

Ted tuned out the rest of it. He had to admire the woman for going straight for the throat. But he made a mental note not to get between her and her target.

“I think that your friend,” Mohammed said.

A Q24 bus was gliding across the intersection in front of them, momentum carrying it through a fully realized red light. Lester was standing at the rear door wearing a big grin and waving. A minute later he was clambering into the back seat. He was holding a pastry box.