They left Ted on a metal folding chair inside the entrance. A policeman seated behind a thick Plexiglas window buzzed the two patrolmen through a door, and they disappeared into the inner sanctum of the precinct.
Ted took out his cell phone, half expecting the desk cop to stop him, but the man ignored him.
“Kenzie? Did you pick up Lester?”
“He’s with me.”
“Take him to the church, and let him get cleaned up.”
“How are you? What are they doing to you?”
“Nothing now. They left me sitting here. No one said a thing.”
“What happened? Where’s the Judge?”
Ted gave a sour laugh. “It is a demonstration in power—and a game. Judge Fitzmaurice never had any intention of meeting me there.”
“Just for a laugh at your expense?”
“No. He knows I haven’t rescinded that motion and he’s pissed. He told me what he wanted on Saturday. It’s Tuesday and I’m not falling in line.”
“What do we do?”
“I’ll give you a call when I know something. I have a feeling it’s going to be a while.”
Ted entertained himself by checking the upcoming rotation for the Mets’ road trip. When he had wrung all the juice out of that distraction, he checked the time. He’d been waiting for all of five minutes. It felt like an hour.
Thirty minutes later, no one had come in or gone out the door since he’d arrived. The desk cop had a pencil in his hand and was staring intently down at something in front of him. A crossword puzzle? Sudoku?
Ted stood and walked over. The cop saw him coming and slid to the side whatever it was he had been doing.
“Can I help you?” he asked. Ted saw the nameplate over his badge. menendez. He had a Clark Gable mustache, so perfectly groomed he must have trimmed it that morning.
Ted swung his head to the side, trying to appear casual. He saw what the cop had been reading. Civil Procedure, 7th Edition. Law school. First year. “Well, Officer Menendez, I’d like to know what’s up.”
“How’s that?” He seemed genuinely confused by the question.
“Well, those two officers left me sitting here.”
“Who would that be?”
Ted described the pair.
“What’s your interest in them?”
“They picked me up and drove me here. They told me to take a seat. I haven’t seen them since.”
“I couldn’t say. But they’re out on patrol. If you would like to wait, they’ll be back by four. That’s end of their shift.”
“Shit,” Ted said. It slipped out without thought. He’d been played again.
“If it’s an emergency—”
Ted cut him off. “No. Thank you. It’s fine. Really. Fine.” He spun around and headed for the exit.
“Sir?” the cop called after him. “Your ID?” He held up a brown envelope.
Ted walked back and took it from him. He checked inside. His driver’s license. The envelope with Cheryl’s money. He counted it. All there. He looked up at Officer Menendez, who was making no effort to hide his smirk. “Thank you again. I’ll be sure to let everyone know how hospitable you’ve all been.”
“Have a good day.”
But Ted was out the door, his fingers already punching in Kenzie’s number on his phone. “These sons of bitches left me sitting on a goddamn folding chair and went out the back door.”
“So they’re not holding you?”
“No. Damn it.”
“You’ll have to explain why that’s a bad thing.”
“Damn. How’s Lester?”
“Sleeping it off. He did some self-medication with that bottle of vodka.”
“Damn.”
“He’ll be fine. He needs the rest. I left him wrapped in blankets.”
“You have the car and driver?”
“Mohammed? We’re headed your way now.”
Ted was standing on the curb outside the entrance. The street was lined with automobiles parked half-on, half-off the sidewalk. Police cruisers, government issue, stripped down models, and personal vehicles took up all the space in front of the spiked iron fence. Pedestrians would have to worm their way through or walk in the street. Wheelchairs, baby strollers, and shopping carts had no chance of getting through. If the point was to prevent terrorists from being able to place a car bomb directly in front of the precinct, it was an effective barrier, at the expense of community inconvenience and disfavor. Ted thought the explanation was much simpler—the cops parked there because they could get away with it.
“There’s a deli on the corner,” he said. “I’ll be waiting out front.”
“Eight minutes,” she said.
It took less.
Mohammed looked a little wild-eyed. “Are we in the hood?” he asked as Ted hopped in the back.
“Are you nervous?” Ted asked. Considering that the man’s home country was practically in a perpetual state of war, Ted was unprepared for this shyness.
Mohammed muttered something that sounded like prayers.
“I think all this cloak-and-dagger action has pushed Mohammed out of his comfort zone,” Kenzie said. “We may want to give him the night off.” She appeared to be calm and in control.
Ted thought they could all use some down time, but it wasn’t in the cards. “We need to regroup and come up with another plan,” he said.
“What do you really think happened with the Judge?” Kenzie asked.
“He survived Albany politics for fifty years,” Ted said. “He’s developed an infallible threat-alert system. If he could patent it, he could make billions licensing it to the military.”
“He set you up?”
“Beautifully. I’m sure of it.”
She laughed gently.
“And that’s funny because . . . ?”
“Lester played us the recording of you and those cops.”
Ted grimaced. “I’m sure that in another decade or two, I will also find it amusing.”
She laughed harder. It was a good sound. He found he was smiling.
“That’s better,” she said. “They’re up on points, but I’m used to losing. The difference is that I don’t quit when they’re ahead.”
Ted had to laugh. “So what’s next?”
“Steaks. It’s Tuesday night. Let’s see who shows up at Reisner’s table this week.”