The call came in at eleven-thirty that night. The limo had just dropped Saul Lennick at his Park Avenue apartment, home from the opera. His wife, Mimi, was in the bathroom removing her makeup.

“Can you get that, Saul?”

Lennick had just pulled off his shoes and removed his tie. Calls this late, he knew what they were usually about. He picked up the phone in frustration. Couldn’t it wait for the morning? “Hello.”

“Saul?”

It was Karen Friedman. Her voice was cracking and upset. He knew that something was wrong. “What’s happened, Karen?”

Exasperated, she told him what had happened to Samantha leaving school.

Lennick stood up. Sam was like a grandniece to him. He had been at her bat mitzvah. He had set up accounts for her, and for Alex, at his firm. Every bone in his tired body became rigid.

“Jesus, Karen, is she all right?”

“She’s okay….” Karen sniffed back a sob in frustration. “But…” She told him what the man who had accosted her had said, about wanting their money. The same two hundred and fifty million dollars as before. The part about how she was her father’s little girl.

“What the hell did they mean by that Saul? Was that some kind of threat?”

In his underwear and socks, Lennick sank down on the bed. His mind ran back to Charles. The avalanche he had unleashed.

You stupid son of a bitch. He shook his head and sighed.

“Something’s going on, Saul. You were about to tell me something a couple of weeks back. You said it wasn’t the right time…. Well I just put my daughter in my own bed,” Karen said, her voice stiffening. “She was scared within an inch of her life. What do you think, Saul—is it the right time now?”