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“There is no plan,” says Margo.

Jessica snaps her head toward Margo and asks, “How do you know that?”

“Because they only spoke for about thirty seconds,” Margo answers. “Nobody can make a plan in thirty seconds. Not even the great Shadow.”

“She’s right. There is no plan,” I say. “He wants my help. But I know his type. I’d bet everything he wants to use these tragedies for his own profit and glory. So I told him to get the hell out.”

From our windows we can see the last two units of Townsend’s flying motorcade lift up and into the sky.

All three women stand still, their faces filled with shock and confusion.

Then Maddy explodes with anger.

“I can’t believe it,” she yells. “The world is being destroyed right before our eyes, and Lamont Cranston won’t try to save it?”

Maddy’s outrage and passion are understandable, but she still has a lot to learn about me and my methods.

“Listen,” I say. “Townsend is evil, super-evil. I would never do anything to help him, but—”

“But what?” Maddy yells. “Butwhat,Lamont?”

“Iwilldo everything in my power to save the world.”

CHAPTER 16

THE CITY OF New York does not call it a bail hearing. The City of New York calls it a “pre-hearing evaluation and recommendation.” So Maddy and Belinda are seated in a small, dirty room on Centre Street in downtown Manhattan. There are five metal chairs and two crappy tables that appear to be identical to the crappy table and chairs in Belinda’s “holding cell.”

“The only thing missing is that asshole boss of yours, R.J.,” says Belinda, who is fidgeting and complaining. “Oh, and that dickwad doctor who kept asking me how I got hurt.”

“That doctor was doing his job,” Maddy reminds her. Maddy took Belinda for her medical examination after she shared how the other half lives. Belinda let him treat her cuts and bruises but fell silent when he asked questions.

Maddy doesn’t know if the girl is protecting herself or the people she works for.

“Well,” Maddy says, trying very hard not to show herown distress at R.J.’s absence. “We don’t have an attorney, but we also don’t have a judge yet.”

“The judge. Will he be sitting up there?” Belinda asks, pointing to the one chair that rests in the front of the room behind another crappy table, only that table is made of wood.

“Yes, that’s whereshewill be sitting,” Maddy says. “Just so you know. The judge is a woman.”

“How’d you know that?” Belinda asks.

“I’m a forensic genius… I read the nameplate on the judge’s desk.” Then Maddy reads the name out loud to Belinda, pointing,HONORABLEROSALIEMARTINEZ-HERMANN.

As if she’d been waiting for an entrance cue, the Honorable Judge Martinez-Hermann—heavyset and serious-looking—heads to her “bench” and sits. Meanwhile, Belinda turns to Maddy and whispers, “This isn’t going to be good.”

“Let’s wait and see,” Maddy says. Yet the moment after Maddy speaks, the judge looks up from her desk and says, “Good morning, and let’s hustle. I’ve got a long day ahead of me.”

As if on cue, R.J. Werner walks through the side door into the room.

Belinda mutters, “My lawyer looks like crap.”

Maddy tells her to be quiet but silently agrees with Belinda. R.J. is wearing a pair of unwashed baggy chinos and a dark-blue shirt open at the neck—no tie—and is sporting at least three days of stubble.

“Are you connected with this case, sir?” the judge asks, eyebrows going up.

“Yes, ma’am. I’m the appointed attorney and I want to apologize for—”

“Too late,” says the judge, clearly irritated by both his lateness and his appearance. She rattles off the arresting officer’s report (the wordsillicit substanceshow up three times) and then says, “Please submit information that will persuade the court to warrant pretrial independence without restriction. Counselor, begin.”