This would be more speculation than hard fact, but Ted felt he could open up to her. “I think they’re fronting for LBC. They sell to cutouts . . .” He paused as he saw a question flicker behind her eyes. “Cutouts. Corporations or LLCs that exist only to hide the people who really benefit from a deal.” She nodded in understanding, and he continued. “The bad guys can make payoffs that are tough to track. I don’t have all the pieces or connections. But Corona Partners—the Russians—bought properties at auction that LBC now owns. That is not a coincidence.”

“No. It’s not.”

Ted had made a conjecture based on a smattering of evidence and a skeptical view of human nature. Kenzie spoke with greater authority.

“I’ve got photos of the Russians meeting with LBC execs, a couple of politicians, even a judge. But I don’t have a paper trail.” She smiled, quite pleased with her information and his surprise.

“Where were they meeting?”

“Some tired old steak house in Great Neck. It’s a block outside the city limits, so I guess they thought no one would see them there. Always on a Tuesday. I hate playing the cynic, but these idiots are both arrogant and dumb—a winning combination.”

“Who shows up?” Ted asked. Finally, pieces were falling into place. Now he needed specifics. “What’s his name? The guy who’s always on television.”

“Reisner. Ronald Reisner. Chairman of the board of LBC. No, he’s too smart. He sends his people. Sometimes a lawyer, sometimes one of his stooges. He’s got a very small group of execs that he trusts. Having one of them deliver a payoff or a bribe is his way of testing their loyalty.”

“Are the Russians there?” Ted asked.

“Not always. I don’t really get their part in this. Why would Reisner need muscle if he’s got judges and city councilmembers in his pocket?”

“You’re talking about Kevin Pak?”

“He’s one of many,” she said.

“They’re not only muscle,” Ted said. “The Russians have money they need to launder.” It was a good question, though. Why would Reisner want to partner with gangsters? The Russians were not known to be silent partners. “Maybe he doesn’t have a choice,” Ted mused. “Does he need their money? Is he tapped out with his lenders?”

“You’d think that would be major news. Big Banks Slam Door on Billionaire Developer. The Post would love it.”

They were beyond the realm of known facts. “Or the Russians might be controlling the politicians.”

“Maybe,” she said, though she sounded unconvinced. “You know why it’s called Sutphin Boulevard?”

Ted was about to take a sip of the bubbly water, but he placed the glass on the table. “I’m going to assume you are making a point.”

“Run with me,” she said.