Swimming with Sharks

by Nele Neuhaus

  Alex turned onto Chambers Street. In small side alley, she finally found the inconspicuous restaurant Nick had invited her to. She heard muted Greek folk music as she entered a large room. Its ceiling and walls were decorated with realistic-looking plastic vines, creating a pergola-like effect. Its many cheap replicas of famous statues, pictures of the Acropolis, and photographs of the blue Mediterranean Sea with dazzling white houses hinted at the owner’s homesickness.

  Most of the tables were still empty, and the waiter led her to the corner. Alex ordered a glass of white wine. Shortly after nine, two men entered the restaurant—looking around and inspecting it suspiciously. Nick came in shortly thereafter. He smiled at Alex, but stopped to exchange a few words with the chef before walking over to her table.

  “Good evening, Alex.”

  “Hello, Nick.” She smiled somewhat nervously.

  “I hope you’re hungry,” he said. “I ordered two saganaki as appetizers and souvlaki after that.”

  He winked at her, grinning slightly.

  “It’s not exactly Le Cirque, but Konstantinos makes the city’s best souvlaki.”

  “Whatever that is, I believe you.”

  They looked at each other for a moment without saying a word. Alex noticed that Nick looked exhausted and that his face had become thinner. His hair was longer than usual, and a bluish five o’clock shadow covered his cheeks.

  “Do you speak Greek?” she asked, just to make conversation.

  “A little bit. My mother never learned to speak English properly. People in Greece would immediately identify me as a foreigner, but Konstantinos likes it when I speak Greek with him.”

  “But you’re Catholic, right? I thought people in Greece are usually…”

  “Greek Orthodox,” he said, nodding. “My parents weren’t religious. They didn’t care what I did. There was a young priest in our neighborhood who looked after the street kids—Father Kevin, you met him the other day. He gave me books to read and took me to church, where I became an altar boy. I think I liked Catholicism’s simple dogmatism of good and evil as a child, and that’s how I’ve felt ever since.”

  Nick folded his hands and rested his chin on them. She looked at him closely for the first time. Alex noticed that his eyes weren’t black but rather a very dark brown. They were beautiful and expressive, filled with warmth and a hint of melancholy.

  “I believe that there is a certain period in everyone’s life where their character is set for the rest of their days,” he said pensively. “For me it was the time when I discovered the world of education and faith through the Jesuit priest. Good and evil, black and white—that was my perspective of life for forty years. But now I see that this isn’t quite accurate. There are other colors as well.”

  The waiter served them an appetizer of baked feta cheese, with tomatoes and cucumber. They clinked their wine glasses and ate in silence.

  “Are things going well for you, Nick?” Alex asked after she had finished. A shadow flitted across his face, and he waited until the waiter had cleared the table.

  “No,” he replied and sighed. “I’m not doing very well. I immerse myself in my work during the day, and sometimes I even manage not to think about Mary and Chris. But when I come home at night, it feels like I’m standing before an abyss. Mary had always been there—for thirty years.”

  His gaze was empty and hollow-eyed. Alex suspected that something was gnawing at him somewhere deep inside; a wild cry waiting to erupt, just as it had at the cemetery.

  “I often think about asking her opinion about this and that, and then I realize that she’s not there anymore. It’s terrible.”

  Alex looked at him sympathetically. She really wanted to grab his hand and say something consoling, but she couldn’t—not here in public, with his bodyguards watching from the neighboring table.

  “People treat me like a monster.” He shook his head in helpless desperation. “Most of the people who I thought were my friends have distanced themselves from me. No one dares to speak to me about Mary, and that’s why they don’t invite me out anymore. Maybe they’re afraid I might burst into tears at the table and embarrass them.”

  “They’re not real friends then,” Alex replied. “I wouldn’t be embarrassed if you cried here and now.”

  Nick looked at her, and for a moment she thought that he would actually break down.

  “I know,” he said, his voice gruff, “and believe it or not, that’s a great comfort to me. It’s strange that even though we hardly know each other, I don’t feel the need to pretend when I’m with you.”

  He took a sip of wine. They remained silent for a moment, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence.

  “Are you really considering resigning?” Alex asked.

  “I don’t know,” he answered. “Everything I do seems pointless now. But whenever I’m about to give up, I feel I have a great and important duty to perform on behalf of my constituents. I gave them my word, and they trust me. How can I just give up on everything?”

  He smiled slightly.

  “I have the bank statements for you,” Alex said abruptly. “I thought that was why you wanted to meet with me.”

  The smile vanished from Nick’s face.

  “You’re still suspicious,” he said, “and I can’t blame you for it. I admit that I actually tried to get information about Vitali from you last Christmas at the Downeys’. But then…”

  Alex’s heart started pounding again when she felt his gaze. It was as penetrating as it had been at the Lands End House.

  “Then I learned that you’re friends with the Downeys, and I thought that this woman couldn’t possibly be on Vitali’s side if she also spends her weekends with Trevor and Maddy.”

  She turned and pulled the rolled-up printouts from her jacket. She had taken them from the bank safe-deposit box that afternoon. Nick stared blankly at the sheets, but then he put on his reading glasses, spread out the papers, and started to read with an expressionless face.

  “Unbelievable,” he murmured after a while. “McIntyre…and here, Alan Milkwood from the Department of Buildings and Jerome Harding—those corrupt bastards.”

  “Did anyone ever try to bribe you?”

  “More than once,” Nick said, looking up, “over and over again. Not only with money. They also offered trades: a kindergarten in return for a building permit, a donation to the NYPD widows and orphans fund in return for dropping criminal charges. That’s how things go in New York City.”

  He sighed.

  “I’ve always resisted. It’s difficult; at times the temptation is strong. The city has no money to build new schools, and who really cares whether a skyscraper turns out to be three stories taller if hundreds of kids in Harlem or the Bronx enjoy a state-of-the-art kindergarten in return? I’ve stood in my own way many times.”

  “Can you use these bank statements for something?” Alex wanted to know.

  “If they’re real, then definitely.” Nick smiled grimly and looked at the next page. “I would have been ecstatic if I had gotten my hands on something like this during my days as a US attorney. This is more than just the tip of the iceberg—this is the whole conspiracy.”

  “Why don’t you pass it on to the US Attorney’s Office?”

  “Alex!” He put the papers down and looked at her seriously. “This is pure dynamite! This is more than just a few headlines in the newspaper. These names and numbers will shake this city’s power structure to the core, and none of these people will simply put up with being accused of corruption. There will be extensive legal proceedings, libel actions, allegations, possibly even deaths. I’ve seen it happen before: in the seventies and eighties with the Mafia, and with Wall Street after that.”

  He stared at the stack of papers, shuffled them nervously, and then looked up again.

  “Believe me. I know how this goes, how much work is involved, how often the accused manage to squirm their way out with the help of their clever lawyers.”

  “But a U
S attorney, a judge, or even a governor is finished when the public finds out he’s corrupt, right?”

  “Yes, that’s true,” Nick admitted, “but do you know what power-hungry people are capable of when they realize they’ve been cornered?”

  The waiter served the entrées, and Nick fell silent. They waited until the food was laid out.

  “I’m not interested in all those people.” Alex lowered her voice. “This is about Vitali.”

  “Because of personal vengeance or hurt vanity?”

  “No! This man kills people who stand in his way. I know it! With my own ears, I heard someone tell him that David Zuckerman had been silenced.”

  Nick looked at her pensively; then he put his cutlery down.

  “Okay,” he said in a sober voice, “let me explain to you how this would work. I hand this material over to the US Attorney’s Office or the FBI. They investigate and possibly conclude that there’s something to it. Vitali is arrested, but thanks to his connections, he’s most likely released on bail. If charges are actually brought against him, then you’d be the main witness for the prosecution.”

  Alex swallowed nervously.

  “This would not be the first time we thought we had enough evidence to take down Vitali. But our witnesses always failed us. Some of them lost their memory overnight, and others disappeared without a trace. Sometimes they were found again in a landfill or floating in the river. Vitali is merciless. Would you want to live with a new identity somewhere in the Midwest for the rest of your life, constantly in fear that one day they’ll find you?”

  He shook his head.

  “In the past, I would have done anything to get to Vitali. Today, I doubt whether something could be right if it costs a person’s life.”

  Alex licked her dry lips.

  “What would you do in my position, Nick?” she whispered. “I can’t go on like this. I’m scared of him, but I still want him to be brought to justice.”

  Nick stared at her.

  “You’re very brave. And intelligent. I admire that about you.”

  “No I’m not. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have fallen for Vitali.”

  “Many other women would fall for him, too,” Nick said. “He’s good looking, charming, and incredibly rich.”

  “Oh yes,” she said and laughed bitterly. “He reserved the entire Crows Nest at the Water Club for one evening—the whole staff, and a band.”

  “Did you love him?”

  Alex hesitated, surprised by this very personal question.

  “No,” she said slowly, “it wasn’t love. I was impressed and flattered that such a powerful, famous man was courting me. I aspired to become one of the city’s famous and powerful people, and I thought that I could accomplish that through him. How could I have known that I was only a small cog in the wheel of his dirty business?”

  “Are you still in contact with him?”

  “Do you mean, do I still sleep with him?”

  “No.” Nick blushed slightly. “I…I didn’t mean it that way.”

  “He asked me to marry him the last time I saw him.” Alex’s face hardened. “Most likely because he’s afraid he won’t be able to bring in those lucrative deals anymore. I moved out of the apartment he rented to me. A friend signed a new lease for me in his name, and since then, I have been afraid that Vitali will find out where I live. I change trains three times in the subway and sneak out of the building through the back. He knows that I was with you at the cemetery. The man who tried to shoot you recognized me.”

  Nick looked alarmed. “Did he tell you that?”

  “His wife came over to my place to warn me,” she replied. “She left him because she’s convinced that Vitali ordered the death of his own son.”

  “Vitali’s wife came to you?” Nick asked in disbelief.

  “Yes. She hates him and wants revenge. And she’d like to talk to you, Nick.”

  “You’re in great danger, Alex.”

  “I know. But he won’t touch me as long as I’m coordinating his dirty business. But once he no longer needs me…” She fell silent.

  “I can arrange personal security for you,” Nick offered. “Where do you live now?”

  “On Reade Street. Just around the corner.” Alex ate a bite from her already cold kabob, although her stomach felt sealed shut. “Personal protection is unnecessary; I work at a company that he largely owns.”

  When the waiter came to clear the table, Nick had hardly eaten anything. He handled a piece of bread, lost in thought.

  “Do you know why I don’t want to pass on this information?” he asked in a throaty voice. “I’m afraid that Vitali will hurt you.”

  On their way out, they saw that the restaurant had filled up since their arrival. The four bodyguards were waiting for them at the street corner.

  “Isn’t it better if I have someone drive you home?” Nick asked, and Alex detected true concern in his eyes.

  “No, it’s okay. It’s so close.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. It’s better if I use my secret paths.”

  “I’m worried about you, Alex.”

  “I’m really in hot water, aren’t I?”

  Nick looked at her with a grave expression.

  “Yes, I’m afraid so.”

  She dug both her hands into her jacket pockets. “Would you pass the information against Vitali on to the US Attorney’s Office if I quit my job and leave the city?”

  “Is that what you’re planning to do?”

  “I hardly have a choice.” Alex felt a painful lump in her throat. She was more aware of the hopelessness of her situation than ever before.

  “Maybe you’re right,” Nick said and sighed. “I toyed with the idea of packing it all in myself. No one could blame you for it. Who the hell cares.”

  Still standing outside the restaurant, they gazed at each other under the lantern’s dim light.

  “I have to go,” she said. “Thank you, Nick, for the lovely evening.”

  Nick extended his hand and she took it. Alex remembered how she had held him in her arms as he cried, and she fervently wished that she could stay with him a little longer. She didn’t care who he was, although it would have been much easier if he hadn’t been—of all people—the mayor of New York.

  Alex let go of his hand, but he didn’t seem ready to leave either. Then she impulsively flung her arms around him and nestled her face against his rough cheek. They remained in a comforting embrace for a brief moment until another customer came out of the restaurant.

  “Take care of yourself, Alex,” Nick whispered gruffly. She nodded silently and then turned around and disappeared with quick steps.

  Wednesday, December 1, 2000

  Vincent Levy’s face was grim as he hung up the phone. LMI’s board was anxiously awaiting their president’s explanation of just what had interrupted their extraordinary meeting on this rainy December afternoon. Levy looked around the group, and then he walked over to the large window. Everything seemed to shift in the hazy air. The Verrazano Bridge was just visible in the distance, and even the Statue of Liberty seemed farther away than usual. There was complete silence in the room as Levy turned around.

  “Gentlemen,” he said, clearing his throat, “I’ve just learned that the acquisition of Database Inc. by Whithers Computers is off. Database has agreed to a friendly takeover by Softland Corporation. First Boston made the cut. We’re out.”

  Everyone in the room was speechless as they stared at the president. The deal, worth almost two billion dollars—one of the biggest ever in the technology sector—seemed signed, sealed, and delivered long ago. The M&A department had been working on little else for weeks. St. John finally broke his board colleagues’ numb silence.

  “That stupid bitch screwed it up!” he yelled. He banged his fist on the table with such force that the glasses and bottles rattled. “I could wring her neck!”

  “What do you mean, Zack?” Hugh Weinberg asked in surprise.

  “Jus
t like I said!” Zack’s face turned bright red, and beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. “This was a surefire deal, but she was too stupid to seal it!”

  “Zack, I beg your pardon!” Levy interrupted. “You can’t blame Alex for the Database shareholders’ decision.”

  “What the hell!” Zack jumped up and laughed derisively. “You’re all blind because she closed a few good transactions! But she just screwed up the year’s biggest deal in the technology sector!”

  “That’s not true!” Michael Friedman objected. “She did the best she could. She made a solid offer. Database stock was to be acquired for forty dollars a share—”

  “I don’t give a shit how good that damned offer was.” Zack cut him off harshly. “It wasn’t good enough. Why are we paying her all of this money if she can’t even keep an eye on the market properly?”

  “That’s not fair, Zack,” John Kwai said. “Alex has closed a lot of good deals for us. We can’t condemn her just because one of them goes sour!”

  “Come with me, Zack.” Levy threw an imploring look at his managing director. He was the only one who knew why Zack was overreacting like this. Since Alex had told them about the planned deal, MPM had established a large position in Whithers shares—causing their stock price to skyrocket accordingly. Levy guided the incensed man to an adjacent office and closed the door.

  “We’re ruined, Vince!” Zack exclaimed in agitation. “Jack and I bought a shitload of Whithers stock for thirty-eight a share, fucking hell! We’ll never get rid of them at this price!”

  “Calm down, Zack,” Levy said in a conciliatory tone. “We can handle a loss of a few dollars per share.”

  “No, we can’t!” Sweat was running down Zack’s face. “I invested a fucking hundred million dollars!”

  “Excuse me?” Levy went pale. “Are you crazy?”

  “It was a sure thing! According to Weinberg’s forecast, the stock would have gone up thirty points after the announcement of the takeover.”

  Zack’s body shook. His face flashed red and paled again.

  “I financed the hundred million through LMI.”