“Then I had better get on with it, hadn’t I?”

All the fuss had been preamble. The ancient history had all been distraction.

“Make it quick,” Ted said.

There were two red pencils in a coffee cup on the table. The Judge took them out, examined the points, and replaced them, aligning them in precise parallel. He smiled grimly when done. “I was sent here today with a request. From Jill. She would not presume to ask you herself, but believe me—I do speak for her.”

“She doesn’t need you for that. Jill knows that she can ask me anything.”

“It has to do with Jacqueline.”

Ted acknowledged that he could be difficult on that subject. But there was no need for Jill to have sent the old man.

“I’ve got no fight with Jackie,” Ted said. “We don’t get along, but I wish her no harm.”

“Ah, Teddy. You never were a good liar.”

“Time to go.” Ted stood.

“You can tell me whatever you like, but don’t lie to yourself.” The Judge remained seated.

“My ride is here.”

The Judge held up his index finger. One minute. “You’re working on a surplus-money case. I’d like you to withdraw your filing.”

Damn. Ted should have known. All that smoke about family had been there to keep him from thinking. And it had worked. So who was really behind the Judge’s visit? Not Jill. Who in this mare’s nest of players did the old man represent?

“Not a chance,” he said.

“Jill is afraid that if you prevail, Jacqueline will take a fall.”

Another realization hit. The Judge knew that Jill was Ted’s chink, too. “Is that what you told her?”

“It’s true—Jacqueline may have been overly aggressive in pursuit of an outcome and will now suffer some embarrassment for her actions. And it will be embarrassing for a great number of other people. Powerful people who would rather owe you a favor than punish you after the fact.”

“Who? Give me names.” And let’s get this game over with.

“It’s not that simple. Tell me what you want, and I will get it delivered.”

“I told you what I want. Names.”

“You want the money? The million or so, whatever it is? It’s yours.”

Ted held back a laugh. How far would they go? “How about five mil? Why not ten?”

“How about you get to practice law again?”

He was a cunning bastard. With a phone call or two, Cornelius Fitzmaurice could reopen those gates for Ted. He wanted so much to say yes. And so he didn’t. “And Miss Miller? It’s her money. And she’s owed a lot more.”