by Nele Neuhaus
He knew that he wouldn’t hesitate to leave Alex if the circumstances required it. But he hoped that this would never be the case. All this went through his head while Alex stared at him, waiting for a response. For a brief moment, Sergio felt ashamed as he prepared to lie to her.
“Listen, cara,” he said and looked at her openly, “I had to fight very hard all my life to get to where I am right now. I lead a major corporation and am responsible for thousands of people. When I was young, I made a questionable deal or two. But what person who made it to the top hasn’t done such things?”
Alex nodded.
“When the newspapers write disparaging things about me, it’s just because of envy and frustration. Try as they might, they can’t dig up any dirt on me. That’s why they keep bringing up these old stories about my father. Entire books have been written about Ignazio Vitali, like Murder Inc., and it’s no secret that he and his colleagues killed dozens of people during Prohibition. But that is not my legacy. I conduct my business in the manner of other legitimate businessmen around the world. Maybe I’m more cunning or more ruthless, but I pay my taxes and present my financial statements to whoever cares to read them. I have never been convicted, and I’m no criminal. All this tabloid talk about the Mafia and the underworld will sell newspapers, but it doesn’t correspond with reality.”
Sergio looked calmly at Alex, and everything he said sounded plausible in her ears.
“Are you happy now, cara?”
She nodded.
“You do your job and I do mine,” Sergio continued. “We are both successful. When I see you, cara, I’d rather not think about business, but about you. This is not about concealing anything from you.”
“Hmm,” Alex said as she wrapped her arms around his waist, “so what’s your involvement with LMI?”
Sergio was prepared for this question because he knew that Oliver had told her about it.
“I’m on the board of directors,” he said as he pulled her close and kissed her, “just like I sit on twenty-four other boards. My companies also do business with LMI every now and then. That’s all.”
Alex sighed. To hell with Oliver and his conspiracy theories! If Sergio had denied any business involvement with LMI, then she wouldn’t have believed anything else either, but now she felt sure Sergio was being honest. And that was enough for her.
Alex woke up the next morning and needed a few seconds to realize where she was. Her eyes fell on Sergio, who was still in a state of deep sleep. She’d made a decision during the night. Her brief affair with Oliver was over. It hurt too much when he threw her out of his apartment without giving her a chance to explain herself. Sergio had much more to offer. A penthouse overlooking Central Park, a private underground garage for her Porsche, and a table at Le Cirque without a reservation! Sergio Vitali made everything possible, and there was no point in pretending that she didn’t care about him. The intimacy of their night together made her feel like this could be the loving relationship she longed for. Sergio opened his eyes and squinted into the bright sunlight. He reached for her and Alex snuggled into his arms.
“What are you thinking about, cara?” he whispered.
“All kinds of things.” She stroked his tousled hair and was tempted for a split second to tell him the whole truth about her feelings. But then she thought about Oliver and what her honesty led to with him. No, she couldn’t tell him—it didn’t matter how close she felt to him.
“Does it have anything to do with me?”
“No,” she lied. “I’m thinking about how I could raise thirty-two million dollars for A&R. Maybe I could—”
Sergio bolted into an upright position.
“You are really unbelievable,” he said. “You lie in bed with me and all you can think about is business!”
He shot her such a hurt look that she paused in fright. Sergio untangled himself from her, jumped up, and walked across the room. Alex bit her lip as he disappeared into the bathroom. She really wanted to run after him and tell him the truth—that she had been hurt by his behavior and had cheated on him with another man only because she’d hoped that would banish him from her mind! Impossible. No, she had to keep pretending that he was just an acquaintance with whom she enjoyed spending a few hours now and then.
Somewhere in her clothes, which she had carelessly tossed on the floor, her cell phone started ringing. She jumped up, rummaged through her clothing, and found it in her coat pocket, under the armchair. To her surprise, it was Madeleine Ross-Downey. Alex walked out on the terrace. Madeleine apologized for calling so early, but she had to travel to the West Coast for three days and wanted to say hello before she forgot. She thanked Alex again for her courageous intervention and invited her to dinner at their home that Friday evening. Some other friends were also coming, and it would be a casual evening, but she and Trevor would be delighted if she could join them.
Alex’s first impulse was to excuse herself, since she almost always turned down invitations, but she had instantly liked Madeleine and her husband. Furthermore, the thought of getting to know some friends of Sergio’s enemy Kostidis intrigued her. When she turned around, she saw Sergio standing in the open terrace door.
“It was Madeleine Ross-Downey,” Alex said. “She invited me to come to her apartment on Friday evening.”
“Really?” Sergio raised his eyebrows. “How did you achieve this honor?”
Alex told him about the incident at the museum two days before.
“Unbelievable.” Sergio looked at her with a mixture of amazement and amusement. “You charged two street thugs with your bare hands? I should hire you as my bodyguard.” He grinned.
“Don’t mock me,” Alex said, annoyed. “I could hardly pretend I didn’t see anything.”
“I’m not mocking you,” Sergio answered. “I really mean it! There aren’t many people who would do the same. I’m sure Trevor was happy nothing happened to his Maddy.”
“Yes, he certainly was. I also visited their home that night. Do you know the Downeys?”
“Of course. I know everyone in the city.”
Anyone else would have sounded arrogant making this kind of statement, but Sergio was simply stating a fact.
“Do you like them?”
“Madeleine is really a magnificent singer—I admire her art very much,” he replied, but then his voice filled with contempt. “On the other hand, Trevor Downey is weak and spoiled. He lucked into a department-store chain because his older brother who inherited the business was a hemophiliac and passed away at twenty. Moreover, he is a close friend of our highly esteemed Mayor Kostidis.”
“I hate it when you’re so sarcastic.” Alex noted the mocking glint in his eyes.
“And I hate it when you think about business while you lie in bed with me,” Sergio responded.
“To tell the truth, I wasn’t thinking about business,” she said quietly.
“Then why did you say that?”
“Because…” She fought with herself for a moment and avoided looking at him. “Because I didn’t want to admit that I was thinking last night was one of the most beautiful nights of my life.”
Sergio didn’t respond. He walked back to the bedroom to get dressed. She followed him, annoyed by his silence.
“Do you want to know why I didn’t tell you the truth?” she asked, trying to restrain the angry tremble in her voice.
“Yes.” He sat on the edge of the bed while tying his shoelaces.
“Because I was afraid that you would react exactly like this. With no reaction at all. You expect honesty from me and don’t say a single word yourself.”
A shadow drifted across Sergio’s face, and when he looked up again he had dropped his mask. He was attentive and tense, and he looked surprisingly vulnerable. He grabbed her wrists.
“Alex,” he said softly, “are you really being honest with me?”
She hesitated. She had an opening to confess that she’d had an affair with Oliver because she was jealous and angry. S
he could choose this moment to tell him the details about Oliver’s accusations that had caused her doubts. And she could admit how much she longed for his love and his trust. But she was afraid to let her guard down, and so she let this opportunity pass by.
“I think,” she answered instead, “that I’m as honest with you as you are with me.”
Sergio sighed. He let go of her wrists and stood up. “Well then, let’s leave it at that,” he said. “But I can tell you one thing in all honesty: it was a wonderful night. I enjoyed it very much.”
August 15, 1999
Sergio Vitali entered his office at the VITAL Building. His oldest son Massimo and his lawyer Nelson van Mieren were already waiting for him. He smiled briefly when they wished him a happy birthday, and then he sat down behind his desk.
“So?” he asked, looking at his son. Massimo was courageous and intelligent, but his uncontrollable violent temper led him to make mistakes time and again. Fortunately, his screwups had not yet triggered any major consequences. “We have a problem at the port,” Massimo said without introduction. “Johnnie Craven—president of the dockworkers’ union—isn’t keeping his end of the bargain.”
“What did he do?”
“A shipment from Germany arrived yesterday—Russian Kalashnikovs and control mechanisms for ICBMs. They were declared as ‘cooling units’ as usual. Craven normally makes sure that the stuff clears customs, but yesterday he didn’t.”
“Did you talk to him?”
“Yes.” Massimo leaned forward. “He claims that his people somehow forgot to keep the customs officers from boarding. But he lied to me. It’s no one’s fault but his. That’s what we pay him for, and not too shabbily at that!”
“Go on…”
“Ficchiavelli was listed as the delivery address. The cops searched all the warehouses. We were lucky that the last shipment was already out for delivery, so they didn’t find anything. I claimed that they must have mixed up the cargo in Germany.”
“Nelson?” Sergio looked at his lawyer.
“They can’t prove that the weapons were meant for us. The shipping documents for the cooling units were okay. But we do have a problem in that the Port Authority Police has involved the FBI and confiscated the entire shipment.”
“Where was the delivery headed?”
“Houston.” Massimo clenched his fist. “Tommasino was mad as hell when I told him that we can’t deliver for at least three more weeks. Not only has a two-and-a-half-million-dollar deal gone down the drain, it looks as if we might also get into trouble with the dockworkers’ union.”
“Can we reason with Craven?”
“No. He said that he wouldn’t let himself be bossed around by fucking wops.”
“Is that so?” Sergio raised his eyebrows. “Then let’s not waste our time with him. Who is second in command after Craven?”
“His name is Michael Burns. He’s the up-and-coming man. The dockworkers have a lot of respect for him. And it also appears that we owe this disturbance to him.”
“Can this man be persuaded?”
Massimo understood what his father meant and shook his head.
“He’s Irish, Papa.”
“Hmm.” Sergio thought for a moment. The port was strategically important, and they couldn’t face the risk of losing more valuable shipments. Above all, they needed the port for drug imports from Colombia and the Far East. They could hardly afford any trouble.
“Do we have a reliable man on the docks?”
“Yes.” Massimo nodded. “Angelo Lanza, Giuseppe Lanza’s nephew. He’s a good man.”
“Good. Burns must disappear, and it should happen today. I don’t want any trouble at the port,” Sergio said. “Nelson, Luca should have Manzo handle this.”
Nelson van Mieren nodded.
“But we have one more problem, Sergio,” the lawyer said, clearing his throat, “and it’s pretty serious.”
“What is it?”
“David Zuckerman.”
“I thought that was taken care of a long time ago.” Sergio threw an indignant look at Nelson.
“I thought so too,” van Mieren said, raising his shoulders. “They must have grilled him pretty bad, because last night he agreed to testify in front of the investigation committee. They offered him immunity in return. Our contact at city hall just called me thirty minutes ago.”
Sergio jumped up. His face reddened in murderous rage.
“Damn it! We have Kostidis to thank for this,” he exclaimed angrily. “That rotten bastard doesn’t know when to quit! The state attorney wanted to close the case a long time ago, but Kostidis insisted on digging deeper. I could kill him myself!”
“They must have pressed him really hard.” Massimo made himself heard. “David would never talk.”
Sergio pretended not to hear this comment. He had a completely different opinion about Zuckerman than Massimo. The boy still had a lot to learn about human nature.
“How dangerous is Zuckerman, Nelson?” he asked.
“Extremely dangerous,” the lawyer responded. “He was there when we bribed some of the media. He knows that McIntyre is our man. He knows about all the arrangements and the amounts of money that we paid. He’s known it for years. He could blow everything up.”
“Can we get to him?”
“He’s in a hotel in Midtown.” Van Mieren shook his head. “He has more protection from the FBI than Fort Knox. It’s near impossible.”
“There’s no such thing as impossible,” Sergio said harshly. “When is the next committee meeting?”
“Next Monday. Kostidis did everything in his power to bring the members back from their vacations early.”
“I want him to disappear today. Nelson, give the contract to the Neapolitan. I don’t care how he does it. I want his report by tonight.”
“But Papa,” Massimo objected, “David is—”
“He’s become a major threat to us,” Sergio interrupted, giving him a cold stare. “He’ll talk. We can’t afford any leniency. You know that as well as I do.”
Massimo sighed and nodded. He knew that any decision his father made was irrevocable. With a tinge of genuine regret, Massimo thought about David Zuckerman, whom he liked very much. David’s wife and his own wife were good friends, and their children often played together. This would not be easy for him. But the die was cast.
“I’ll see you later tonight at your party,” Nelson wheezed as he got up.
Sergio waited for the two men to leave his office, and then he turned and gazed out the window. The foundation of his power was a fine network of connections, but thin as a spiderweb. To build and maintain it had cost him many years and much money. Very few men knew enough about him to pose a threat. And most of these men would rather go to prison than open their mouths. Nevertheless, there was a weak link every now and then, and Zuckerman had become one. It was a shame, because he was a good man, an ace when it came to generating business in the construction industry. Sergio owed many lucrative contracts to him. But Zuckerman had recently caught the attention of the authorities, which made his services useless. Sergio knew that this man was a coward who paid too much attention to his social standing. Zuckerman would rather betray Vitali than go to prison for a year or two. He had apparently forgotten to whom he owed his mansion on Long Island, his weekend house on Cape Cod, and his life of luxury. But it was too late now to remind him. He was a liability.
Alex steered her black Porsche convertible on to the Henry Hudson Parkway, which later turned into the Saw Mill River Parkway. She drove through placid, wooded hill country and passed the exclusive suburbs of Bedford Hills and Mount Kisco. She had been thinking for days about whether she should actually accept the invitation to Sergio’s birthday party at his house in Westchester County. She didn’t quite feel comfortable facing the wife of the man with whom she was having an affair, but her curiosity about Sergio’s house and his family was ultimately stronger than her fear. Sergio told her that there would be many interesting gue
sts, and that it wouldn’t hurt her to meet some new contacts.
She turned onto a narrow asphalt road near the Mount Kisco exit. Properties here in Westchester County were so large that you couldn’t see the houses from the road. After Alex had been driving for some time along a ten-foot-high yew hedge, she figured that she’d taken a wrong turn somewhere. But then a big gate appeared with several men in dark suits with walkie-talkies. She stepped on the brakes, rolled down her window, and showed her invitation to the security guard. With her heart pounding, she drove through the wide-open cast-iron gate. The estate was enormous. The gravel driveway wound through a meticulously designed landscape—the artfully trimmed bushes and lush green lawns reminded her of a golf course, interspersed with patches of trees.
Alex was amazed when she turned the corner and saw the brightly lit house on the hill. In the twilight, it looked like a French castle. Cars were parked in the large space in front of the mansion, and a man wearing sunglasses assigned her a parking spot. Alex had suspected that the cream of the crop of New York’s society would be gathered at this little garden party. Just at that moment, a bright red Ferrari Maranello pulled in next to her, and Alex recognized Zack. She was actually relieved to see him here.
“Hello, Zack,” she said, looking him up and down. With his deep tan, he looked more like a playboy than an investment banker in his light linen suit. “How was your vacation in the Caymans?”
“Vacation,” he said as he kissed her on both cheeks and laughed, amused, “you’re too funny! It’s hard work profitably reinvesting all the money that you industrious bankers bring in!”