Twenty minutes later, from the concrete quiet of the restaurant’s parking garage, Robert made a phone call.

“David,” he said.

“First thing tomorrow morning, I want a complete report on Caldwell Construction.

Contracts, liabilities, defaults, financing exposure, and every agreement connected to our group.” He listened for a moment, then hung up, and helped Grace into the car, and drove his family home through the Manhattan night.

No one inside that restaurant knew who the quiet man in the gray jacket truly was.

Victoria had spent an entire evening dismissing him as a small-time distributor, a man beneath her notice, an inconvenience to be tolerated for her son’s sake.