by Nele Neuhaus
“Is it true that Sergio Vitali’s son has been arrested?”
“Do you know whether the injured officer is still alive?”
“What do you have to say about last night’s shooting of Vitali?”
“Do you think that this assassination attempt has anything to do with the drug bust at the port?”
Nick pushed himself through the crowd without saying a word. He took a deep breath when he entered the police station.
“What assassination attempt?” he hissed at Frank once they were safely behind closed doors.
“I don’t know either.” Frank shrugged his shoulders.
Captain Tremell, commanding officer of the Forty-First Precinct, approached them with a concerned expression. He was followed by Lucas Morgan, the deputy commissioner of the NYPD. Nick was astonished to see Morgan because he rarely ever left his office. In contrast to Jerome Harding, Morgan wasn’t a man of the streets. A true bureaucrat, who had risen in a persistent, unspectacular way, Morgan was waiting patiently to assume Harding’s job. Nick greeted both men.
“The press people are saying that Vitali was gunned down tonight,” he said. “Is that true?”
“There was a shootout on Fifty-First Street just after midnight,” Morgan confirmed, while the men walked into the captain’s office. “Local residents told us that nobody was injured. But CSI found bullets in the wall, and the entrance of a restaurant was destroyed. Eyewitnesses reported that submachine gun shots were fired from a moving vehicle targeting three men and a woman coming out of Le Bernardin.”
Three men and a woman! Alex! Nick was sure that Vitali had something to do with the drug bust in Brooklyn.
“And?” he asked.
“The men and the woman disappeared in a limousine. No one fitting their description was admitted with a gunshot wound to any of the city’s hospitals.” Morgan raised his shoulders. “We don’t know if it was actually Vitali. The owner of Le Bernardin wouldn’t confirm that Vitali was there for dinner.”
“Let me know if you find out anything new,” Nick said. He was relieved that Alex wasn’t injured, if it actually was her.
“Mr. de Lancie?”
Manhattan’s US attorney pressed the phone receiver between his shoulder and ear. He searched for his glasses and the light switch since he was still half asleep.
“Y…yes,” he cleared his throat. “Who’s calling?”
“This is Massimo Vitali.”
John de Lancie’s drowsiness vanished in an instant, and his heart started pounding.
“Listen, de Lancie,” Massimo Vitali said in a harsh voice, “my brother was arrested last night in the Bronx. I’d like to ask you to make sure that he’s released immediately.”
“I…um…why are you calling me?” John de Lancie didn’t appreciate Massimo’s tone. Furthermore, he was startled that someone besides Sergio Vitali knew about their secret agreement. Vitali was anything but his friend—especially after the Zuckerman affair last year. And de Lancie had only dealt with Sergio himself so far, which is why he preferred to play dumb. This call could actually be a trap.
“My father was shot an hour ago,” Massimo continued. “So I can hardly bother him with this. We need your help. My brother must not go to jail, do you understand?”
“What am I supposed to do? I’m sure you have a lawyer who—”
“I know that you owe my father a favor,” Massimo interrupted him rudely. Apparently, he had no time to be polite. The wheels started turning in de Lancie’s brain. How could he possibly show up at the precinct in the middle of the night and release a man who had been arrested for perpetrating a crime? After all, his job was to do the opposite.
“I’ll see what I can do,” he replied and hung up. Less than thirty seconds later, the telephone rang again. It was one of the junior attorneys from de Lancie’s office confirming what Massimo just said. An apartment building had been raided. One police officer was wounded, and one of the gangsters was dead. Vitali’s son was among those arrested, and the Forty-First Precinct had requested someone from the US Attorney’s Office. John de Lancie found himself between a rock and a hard place. He was obliged to Vitali, but it would be extremely difficult for him to help in this situation without exposing himself. He’d promised Vitali his assistance, but he’d always pulled strings in the background. On the other hand, nothing much could happen to him. Most likely no one would notice yet another unsolved shooting in the South Bronx—such incidents were the order of the day. There was hardly a reporter who’d get up on a rainy night to wait for an arrest in the infamous Forty-First Precinct.
“I’ll go there myself,” he said to his staffer—who seemed astonished. “It’s better if I take care of this personally. The press is sensitive at the moment when it comes to Vitali, and we can’t afford any mistakes.”
Lieutenant Patrick Peters broke out in a cold sweat.
“I can’t do this,” he said quietly. “It’s impossible.”
“You’ll find a way.” Luca di Varese didn’t smile. “Here’s three grand. There’ll be more when it’s done.”
The police officer swallowed. Luca didn’t like this, but his boss’s order during their ride back from Brooklyn that day some weeks ago had been crystal clear. Vitali suspected Cesare would sing like a nightingale in jail out of fear and cowardice. The boss was willing to sacrifice his son to protect his business. This scenario had now come to pass. Sergio Vitali was too incapacitated to make a decision, so it fell to Luca to execute his order. Massimo, Silvio, and van Mieren mustn’t know about this. After a moment’s hesitation, Lieutenant Peters accepted the bundle of bills.
“You want him…dead, if I understood you correctly?” he whispered.
“That’s right.” Luca nodded, his face a mask. He turned around, left the parking lot of the Forty-First Precinct without anyone seeing him, and headed back to Long Island.
Captain Tremell reported on the previous night’s incidents.
“Vitali Junior spilled the beans,” he said in a low voice.
Nick couldn’t believe it.
“It seems that he was part of all this by coincidence,” Tremell continued. “These thugs raided and set fire to the building by the order of someone named Silvio Bacchiocchi. This guy Bacchiocchi is Vitali’s strongman; we’ve known this for a while. He’s got a few prior convictions, but small stuff; that’s why we’ve got him in our computer system.”
“Which means that there’s a connection to Vitali,” Nick stated. He had a hard time remaining calm.
“Well,” Lucas Morgan said, nodding slowly, “we already have a warrant for Bacchiocchi, and we’re going to ask him some questions. Vitali Junior gave us some information that Bacchiocchi needs to rebut, for starters.”
“And this kid revealed all of this just like that?” Nick asked in disbelief.
“No, not just like that.” Tremell coughed slightly in embarrassment. “My men are very upset. One of their colleagues was gunned down during the bust. They grilled Vitali pretty hard, and then he…hmm…came clean.”
“A forced confession,” Morgan cut in, “is useless in court.”
“That doesn’t matter,” Nick responded vehemently. “Most important, we have a connection to Vitali.”
There was a knock at the door.
“Captain,” the lieutenant on duty said. “Vitali’s lawyer is here demanding the kid be released on bail.”
“No bail’s been set yet,” Tremell replied. “He won’t be arraigned until tomorrow morning.”
“This guy is enraged, sir.” The lieutenant frowned. “He’s screaming that this is unlawful detention and coercion.”
“Tell him that we’re allowed to keep Vitali in custody for twenty-four hours. There’s reasonable suspicion of trespassing, arson, battery, armed resistance, and who the hell knows what else. He’s going to remain in his holding cell until he appears before the judge in the morning.”
“Okay, sir.” The lieutenant disappeared again.
“How t
he hell does the lawyer already know that we’ve arrested the kid?” Tremell was pissed off. “We’ve ordered a complete news blackout!”
“If the reporters already know about it…” Morgan said.
“Vitali’s reach extends even into the Forty-First Precinct,” Nick said and sighed. Someone had informed Cesare’s father—either one of the officers or even one of the police commissioners. The payees on Vitali’s list of friends were everywhere. Not only in the police department, but also at city hall.
Captain Tremell, Lucas Morgan, Nick, and Frank walked toward the booking room. They could hear excited voices from a distance. It was Vitali’s lawyer arguing with some officers, but the sergeant on duty wasn’t having it. Three officers stood at the door blocking the reporters from storming the building.
“I demand,” Vitali’s lawyer screamed, “to see my client immediately! He has the right to legal representation!”
Nick stopped.
“Hi, Nelson,” he said calmly. “Why are you so agitated?”
Van Mieren turned around quickly, staring at Nick in astonishment. But he quickly regained his composure.
“Ah, Mayor Kostidis!” he exclaimed. He had the sonorous voice of a defense lawyer projecting to the farthest corners of even the largest courtrooms. “I should have expected I’d find you here!”
Nick and van Mieren had faced off in the courtroom a few times before, and Nick had always gotten the short end of the stick. But tonight he felt strangely confident because van Mieren seemed unusually shaken. There was a look of panic in his eyes, and he seemed to have aged by many years since their last meeting. He had lost weight in his face, but not around the belly; he looked sick, and his suit hung loose around him.
“You’re here too, Nelson,” Nick replied, “despite the fact that a complete news blackout was ordered. I guess the bush drums are in good working order.”
“I demand to see my client,” van Mieren insisted, ignoring Nick’s remark.
There was renewed commotion at the door of the police station, and then a man appeared. Nick was surprised to recognize John de Lancie—the US Attorney for the Southern District of New York.
When he arrived in front of the police station, de Lancie instantly realized that he’d made a big mistake. A swarm of reporters huddled in front of the massive granite facade on Simpson Street. A flurry of flashbulbs went off as he pushed his way through the intrusive crowd, silent and grim. De Lancie’s anger mixed with cold fear when he saw the mayor—of all people—in the waiting room. He was still measured against the success of his predecessor, and he felt in this moment that he was a pale comparison. It was too late to sweep this incident under the rug, and he could hardly leave now. He had to somehow make the best out of this without raising the suspicions of that clever fox Kostidis. Never before had he felt such an impotent anger; never before had he broken out into such a fearful sweat. De Lancie didn’t care about Cesare Vitali at all, but he needed to focus in order to avoid a tactical mistake; the consequences could prove fatal. “What’s actually going on here?” he asked, irritated.
Nelson van Mieren repeated his complaint.
“You’re going to see your client soon enough,” de Lancie said, but he stared at Nick. There was anger in his eyes; Nick thought that he also detected a hint of insecurity.
“What are you doing here?” de Lancie asked in a harsh tone. “You want your old job back, or you’re just coincidentally in this neighborhood at this time of night?”
His voice was oozing animosity.
“Call it curiosity, or even personal interest.”
Nick wondered why the US attorney was so irritated by his presence.
“I don’t understand why the mayor, the deputy police commissioner, and the US attorney are called over here because a few hooligans tried to burn down a tenement in the South Bronx,” de Lancie sputtered. “What’s the big deal?”
“One police officer was seriously wounded, one person is dead, and there was significant property damage,” Tremell interjected. “Furthermore, I requested someone from the US Attorney’s Office, but not you specifically, sir.”
John de Lancie turned to face him. He opened his mouth for a sharp rebuttal, but when faced with Nick’s inquiring gaze, he chose to remain silent.
“Well,” he continued in a more subdued tone, “as far as I can tell we’re here because the son of someone who has much power and influence in this city has been arrested. I’m less concerned about the incident than damage control in the public eye.”
“Pardon me?” Nick thought that he misheard. “A police officer is fighting for his life in the hospital! What kind of damage are you trying to control?”
“My God, Nick.” Drops of sweat appeared on de Lancie’s forehead. “It’s not even clear yet whether this young man shot the officer. Just because his father is your enemy, we shouldn’t allow ourselves to be accused of overreacting!”
Captain Tremell’s and Lucas Morgan’s jaws dropped in surprise. The nightly raids on apartment buildings where people’s lives were threatened could hardly be considered a trifle!
“Vitali’s not just my enemy,” Nick responded. “He’s an unscrupulous criminal. And I haven’t changed my opinion. I still believe that we need to put a stop to him if we want to establish a minimum level of safety and order in this city.”
Nick noticed de Lancie’s nervousness, saw the sweat on his forehead, and remembered his suspicion that Vitali had bought de Lancie. It was hard to believe, but seemed to be true. Vitali had sent the US attorney to make this issue disappear as fast as possible, and it probably would have worked if Kostidis hadn’t come running. De Lancie was grinding his teeth, and his face had an unhealthy ruddiness.
“I’d like to talk to the kid,” Nick said to Captain Tremell.
“No, you won’t.” De Lancie was vehement.
“And why not?”
“This is outside your jurisdiction!” De Lancie was sweating even more. The collar of his shirt was completely soaked through.
“I’m the mayor of this city,” Nick said, unmoved, giving his successor a piercing look. “I’m responsible for the security of my citizens. I want to ask this kid a few questions.”
The US attorney stared at Nick. His mind was spinning feverishly. He had to prevent the mayor from speaking to Cesare Vitali under all circumstances. De Lancie knew Kostidis all too well. He’d admired him in earlier days as a US attorney because hardly anyone else was as successful in the courtroom. He could slip into the role of thundering prosecutor or understanding friend, and his summations were famous and brilliant. He played every role that promised to lead him to success. He knew how to influence the jury and manipulate witnesses into making statements they never intended to make. The secrets behind his legendary success as an attorney were his knowledge of human nature, his ability to empathize with his counterparts, his perseverance, and his computer-like memory. De Lancie knew that Cesare Vitali would be completely defenseless against this man. He responded to Kostidis’s gaze with powerless anger, clenched his hands into fists, and opened them again.
“No one will talk to Mr. Vitali until he’s been presented before the judge.” Captain Tremell closed the discussion. “Not even the emperor of China!”
“I’m the chief federal law-enforcement officer for the Southern District of New York,” de Lancie insisted. “We’ve taken over the investigation in this case, and I demand to see this man right now!”
Captain Tremell exchanged looks with Lucas Morgan and then shrugged his shoulders. He led the men to the interrogation rooms.
“You will get out of here!” De Lancie pointed with his index finger at Kostidis. The latter looked at the US attorney for a moment, and then he shrugged his shoulders.
“Get me Mr. Vitali’s lawyer!” de Lancie snarled at the police officer standing at the door. “This man has a right to legal representation!”
Lucas Morgan wondered why de Lancie was acting so strangely. Furthermore, he seemed to be afra
id of Kostidis—but why?
“Why is this taking so long?” De Lancie looked nervously at his watch, pacing the room with long strides.
“I need to wrap this up, too,” Nick said. “Fortunately, the kid already confessed to everything. It looks as though we have nearly enough evidence to take on Vitali.”
De Lancie turned around quickly. His Adam’s apple jumped up and down nervously, and rivers of sweat ran down his forehead. “You should be happy, John,” Nick said with feigned innocence. “I’ve been after Vitali for twenty years and never had such good evidence against him as you have today.”
“This isn’t your job anymore, Kostidis!” de Lancie hissed. “The work of the US Attorney’s Office is no longer any of your business!”
Nick turned around in the door frame.
“Sometimes I wonder,” he said slowly, without letting de Lancie out of his sight, “which side you’re on.”
The US attorney was speechless as he stared at Nick. His nerves were about to explode. Nick walked over to Frank, who was waiting for him at the sergeant’s desk.
“Let’s go,” Nick said to him. “Vitali has already confessed anyway. He did so under pressure, but we know that these guys worked under the orders of Vitali’s henchman. So the connection is there.”
Frank stared at his boss.
“De Lancie is Vitali’s man,” Nick said in a low voice. “I had a hunch. He knows that I suspect him too. I stepped on his toes pretty badly. I’m afraid that now he won’t leave a stone unturned to discredit me in public.”
“Hmm.” Frank had a concerned expression on his face. At that moment, commotion broke out near the holding cells. Captain Tremell and two officers came running from the cell block with faces as white as sheets.
“Goddamn, shit!” The otherwise calm commanding officer of the Forty-First Precinct was beside himself. “Vitali hung himself in his cell!”
“What?” Nick and Frank asked as if speaking with one voice.
“Yes, goddamn it! They forgot to take away his belt! He hung himself from the heating pipe!”