Just as blackness was about to envelope Milstein, Beck released him. He stood in front of Milstein, waiting for him to come around.

As Milstein’s head cleared, Beck leaned closer and said to him, “I don’t know what it is with assholes like you. You think because you have some money nobody will fuck with you? Or is it because you’re such a little shit you think somebody would be embarrassed to beat the hell out of you? Have you lost all sense of reality?”

Milstein rasped air into his lungs.

Beck slapped his cheek, gently, more to focus his attention. “Answer me.”

“No. No, I haven’t lost sense of reality.”

Beck spoke quietly now. “So you understand if you don’t answer my questions, you won’t leave this park alive. Nor will your pathetic bodyguard. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

Beck sat down next to Milstein and asked quietly, “I hope you don’t have any doubts about what I just said?”

Milstein paused. “No.” But as he answered he was thinking furiously about what to do.

“Good,” said Beck. “Let’s start again. Olivia Sanchez.”

Milstein cleared his throat, thinking before he said anything. “I’m listening.”

“Tell me what you’re going to do about this idiot who works for you breaking her fingers, tossing her out of a job, and blackballing her from any other employment.”

Milstein cleared his throat again, hesitating. Beck asked, “Well?”

“That’s not…”

Beck interrupted him. “You’re not going to tell me that’s not what happened are you?”

“All I can tell you is that’s her side of it. There’s another side.”

“Which is?”

Milstein spoke very carefully. “She has made claims against one of my partners, Alan Crane. Crane has his own side of the story. He says he confronted her. She got hysterical. She attacked him. He grabbed her hand and twisted it away so she couldn’t hit him.

“He says he can’t believe he broke her fingers. But the point is, Crane says he was defending himself. She’s trying to bring charges against him. He’s already talked to the police. He says she’s lying. She says he’s lying. So now it’s with the lawyers. His lawyers. And the firm’s lawyers, who are very clear about this. They’ve told me to have no further contact with her.”

“What about with Crane?”

“What do you mean?”

“Have your lawyers told you not to have any contact with him?”

“No. But we’ve all been instructed not to discuss the case.”

“That’s your answer?”

Milstein looked quickly at Beck, who sat next to him staring straight ahead.

He didn’t know what to say, so he continued to look at Beck. They sat far from one of the park lamp lights, but the sky was cloudless and the moon bright enough to cast shadows from the trees around them and illuminate Beck’s rough features.

Beck breathed in the cold night air, calming himself, keeping his anger in check. He inhaled the rather pleasant scent of the cigar still burning on the ground near the bench where it had landed.

Milstein finally said, “I don’t understand the question.”

“You’ll talk to Crane, but you won’t talk to Olivia Sanchez.”

“Yes.”

“Why? They both work for you. Why Crane and not her?”

“Well…”

“We both know why. Crane makes more money for you.”

“That’s not the only reason. She’s the one making accusations.”

“Crane is the one waging lawsuits.”

“Look,” said Milstein, “I’ve known Alan Crane for years. He’s not the calmest person. He’s under a lot of pressure. He admits he confronted her. He admits he gave her hell; he admits it got out of hand. But he says she attacked him. Tried to slap him and hit him. I’ve never had any reason to believe Alan would do something like attack a woman. So what am I supposed to do? Olivia has her story. Crane has his.”

“I see,” said Beck. “But she ends up in an emergency room with two broken fingers. And the asshole who did it gets her fired and blackballed. How’s that figure?”

Milstein grimaced, looked away from Beck at the empty model boat pond in front of him.

“I understand what you are saying. Either way, I repeat, what am I supposed to do about it?”

Beck turned to Milstein and stared at him. Milstein started to speak, but Beck interrupted him. “You asked me a question.” Milstein started to speak again, but Beck held up a hand. “Now I’m going to give you the answer. Listen very carefully.”

Milstein closed his mouth.

“Here’s what you’re supposed to do. First, you pay her a severance of two months current salary for every year she worked. How long did she work for you?”

“What?”

Beck turned to Milstein and just stared at him again until he answered.

“I don’t know how long she’s worked for us. I can’t remember.”

“Eleven years. That’s twenty-two months.”

“She never worked eleven years.”

“I thought you didn’t know.”

“I know it wasn’t eleven years.”

“All right, nine. Eighteen months salary.”

Milstein grimaced. How had this thug outwitted him? They both knew she worked for him for a little more than seven years.

“Plus all her hospital bills. And if that fucking asshole Crane even thinks about suing her, it’s on you. Lawyers’ fees, court costs, whatever.”

Milstein stared straight ahead, not saying a word. How the fuck did this guy think he would go for this nonsense? But if he didn’t play along, how the hell was he going to get out of the park in one piece?

Beck pushed. “Agreed?”

After a short pause, Milstein said, “Yes.”

“Then there’s pain and suffering. She has very nice hands, Mr. Milstein. One of them is disfigured now. There’s arthritis looming in her future. Fingers are never the same after a break like that. Physical therapy can only do so much.”

Milstein tensed. How far was this maniac going to push this?

“I’ll be reasonable,” Beck said. “Two hundred thousand.”

“What!?”

Beck didn’t hesitate. “Two hundred and fifty thousand.”

“Hold it, hold it, whoever you are, I can’t agree to…”

“Three hundred thousand. Keep fucking talking and it will be a million, or I swear I will break your neck and throw you in that boat pond. And I will shoot that lummox who’s supposed to guard you so there’s no witness.”

Milstein forced himself to shut up.

Beck repeated, “Three hundred thousand for her pain.”

Milstein couldn’t speak. He forced himself to nod.

“How much did she make last year. Including bonus. Don’t lie about it. You know I’ll verify it.”

Milstein grimaced. “Her salary is one-hundred eighty thousand. And a fifty thousand bonus if memory serves me right.”

“That’s nineteen and change a month. So make it twenty even, times eighteen months that’s three hundred sixty thousand. Plus the three hundred pain and suffering. Six hundred and sixty thousand. Christ, that’s nothing for a firm like yours. Make it in one payment. After you get done writing that check, you are going to pick up a phone and start calling people until you get her a new job. An equivalent job. This shit about Crane blackballing her is over. Now.”

Milstein didn’t say a word.

“And remember what I said about Crane trying to sue her.”

Milstein nodded again.

Beck forced him to speak.

“Agreed?”

“Yes.”

“Get this done. Fast. End it now, before it gets too far out of hand. There are people upset about this you do not want coming after you, Mr. Milstein. Trust me, they will kill you. And Alan Crane. Do not for one second think you can walk out of here and renege on this deal. You messenger a check to her tomorrow, or I fucking guarantee you, you will suffer much more than broken fingers. Do you understand?”

It was at that moment that Frederick Milstein realized he might actually have to come up with over six hundred thousand dollars to end this problem.

Beck sensed he was thinking it through, realizing that this was not a ridiculous price to pay. But Milstein hesitated. Beck was not sure why.