Ted hit the button for the basement and begged the cosmos for a tiny bit of luck. The cosmos came through. The elevator continued past the first floor without stopping.
Jill possessed a tribal loyalty that came with a specified set of ethics. Family was all. Jackie was included in this pact—as long as she was no threat to the inner circle. He should have expected Jill to respond exactly as she had.
As he stepped off the elevator, tubes of fluorescent lights automatically sputtered to life as he stepped out into the laundry room. A single red bulb over a door on the far side of the room marked the exit to the back alley. He hit the push bar, and the metal door flew open, accompanied by a buzzing noise. A muted alarm, loud enough to notify the staff but discreet enough that no tenant would be disturbed.
He was in back of the building, facing the basement door of the adjoining building. Empty trash cans lined both sides of the alley. To his left was a tall fence, topped with razor wire. To his right, a concrete ramp led up to a metal gate and the side street. He ran.
The gate, of course, was locked, and it fit too well in its frame for him to squeeze over or under. He was trapped.
He rejected the thought of hiding in a garbage can. The odds of getting away with it were infinitesimal, and the thought of being found there was unbearable. He walked to the door and waited for the forces of law and order.
A moment later the metal door banged open again, and Osvaldo showed his head. “You there, Mr. Molloy?” He let the door swing to behind him. “I had to call. Sorry about that.”
“Where are they?”
“I sent them up to Miss Fitzmaurice’s apartment. Come with me. I’ll let you out.” He took a nest of keys from his belt and led Ted to the gate. “On your way, sir.”
Ted thanked him. “And best of luck to your son.” He fought the urge to run and instead walked confidently out onto the street with the air of one who belonged on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. Not one but two police cruisers stood in front of the entrance to Jill’s building. Ted walked in the other direction, expecting an authoritative voice to hail him at any second. A familiar car sat idling at the curb, partially blocking a fire hydrant.
“Hey, boss,” Mohammed said. “We go back to Queens now?”