by Nele Neuhaus
“Listen, Savier, I don’t have time for silly question-and-answer games. I want to know what—”
The telephone rang, and Monaghan fell silent. He detected panic flaring up in Savier’s eyes.
“Answer it!” he ordered, and since Justin showed no intention of doing so, he grabbed the revolver from his colleague Joey’s hand and pressed it to Savier’s temple. Justin turned an even paler shade of white. He picked up the receiver with shaking fingers. Monaghan pressed the speakerphone button with his left hand, and a hot wave of triumph flowed though him as he heard Alex Sontheim’s voice.
“Justin, thank God! Where have you been for so long? I’ve tried to reach you countless times!”
Monaghan grinned. Vitali would be delighted by his next call. His people were certainly already closing in on Sontheim in Zurich.
“I’ve taken care of everything in Zurich,” Alex said. “I’ll go to—”
“Alex!” Justin interrupted her, but Monaghan pressed the barrel of the revolver more firmly to his temple and looked at him threateningly.
“Yes?”
“I…”
“Did you hear anything from Mark or Oliver?”
“No,” Justin said, closing his eyes, “I had a lot of work to do.”
“Ask her where she is!” Monaghan hissed.
“Justin?” Alex asked with sudden suspicion. “Is there someone with you? You sound so strange.”
“No, no. I think I’m getting a cold. A bad virus is going around.”
“Oh. I see. Get well soon…”
The dial tone sounded, and Monaghan understood what Justin had done.
“A virus is going around, huh?” he snorted angrily and dealt Justin a ferocious blow with the revolver’s grip. “You think you’re so clever, warning her, huh?”
“Listen!” Justin raised his hands imploringly. “I participated, but I don’t know to this day what this is all about. I’ve got no clue.”
“I don’t believe a word you’re saying.” Monaghan signaled his guys, and they grabbed Justin from the left and right.
“We’re going on a little excursion,” Monaghan said, “and you should come with us without a fuss. Otherwise, I’ll put a neat little hole in the back of your head and you won’t see your dear Alex or your friend Mark ever again.”
Nick, Connors, and Shepard stared at the woman in astonishment.
“Are you surprised to see me?” asked Constanzia Vitali. For a moment she almost seemed amused. Nick remembered Alex telling him that Mrs. Vitali had separated from her husband and that she wanted to talk to him. He had completely forgotten.
“We surely are,” Connors said. “What’s on those videotapes?”
Constanzia Vitali put her meticulously manicured hand on the tapes and smiled sadly. The three men waited impatiently.
“This,” she said after a while, “is the testimony of Nelson van Mieren, my husband’s long-time lawyer and confidant.”
Connors opened his eyes wide.
“Testimony? What kind of testimony?”
“Everything that you need to put Sergio Vitali behind bars for the rest of his life.”
The three men looked at each other, bewildered. Connors was the first to regain his faculties.
“Is…is that true?” he asked.
“Yes. See for yourself. I think it’ll be quite revealing.”
“Excuse us for being surprised,” Nick said slowly. “Might I ask what motivated Mr. van Mieren, and especially you, to take this step?”
Constanzia Vitali looked at him for quite some time and then asked to sit down.
“Nelson was diagnosed terminal cancer,” she said. “He realized his wrongs. He might have kept his mouth shut if Sergio hadn’t lied to him.”
“Lied?”
“It’s all on the tapes.” She gestured vaguely with her hand.
“And what about you?” Connors asked. “Why do you want to testify against your husband?”
“Because I hate him,” the woman exclaimed with unexpected vehemence. “He has humiliated me and lied to me for thirty long years. He only married me because Carlo Gambino was my father. Sergio wanted my father’s connections, and as you can see, he succeeded.”
She sighed.
“I had to endure so much sorrow. I’ve tried to ignore all the corpses my husband left behind on his way to the top. But they reappear in my nightmares. And still, I tried to live with it. Until the day when Sergio ordered the murder of my son.”
“I knew it,” Connors murmured. “I’ve always doubted it was suicide.”
“My husband ordered one of his men to kill Cesare and make it look like suicide.” Her lips were quivering. She shook her head impatiently. “My boy was killed by his own father.”
Tears sparkled in her big brown eyes, but she straightened her shoulders and managed to suppress the pain that still haunted her.
“I left my husband because I could no longer bear to be married to someone who had his own son killed like a stray dog.”
“Do you have any evidence that your husband is behind this?” Connors’s voice was breathless with excitement.
“Yes,” Constanzia Vitali said, nodding, “it’s all on the tapes.”
She was silent for a moment and then looked at Nick.
“Mr. Kostidis,” she said quietly, “I know that Sergio Vitali is responsible for the deaths of your wife and son. I’m terribly sorry about it. Believe me—I know how horrible it is to bury your own child.”
Nick stared at her and then nodded slowly. He struggled to remain calm and composed.
“Sergio is a monster,” she continued, “an ice-cold beast without human emotions. He kills anyone who’s in his way or could threaten him. But I’m not afraid of him anymore. He’s taken from me what I loved the most. I have nothing left to lose. Before I die, I want revenge and retribution for what he did.”
Lloyd Connors could hardly believe it. Never before in the history of legal action against the Mafia had there been a key witness this far up in the families’ hierarchy. Nelson van Mieren was an insider—no, he was the insider of the Vitali clan. He alone could break Sergio Vitali’s back and help them close countless unsolved murder cases.
“Mrs. Vitali,” Connors asked, trembling with excitement and triumph, “will Mr. van Mieren be willing to testify against your husband in a court trial?”
“I afraid he can’t do that,” Constanzia Vitali answered, dashing Connors’s hopes.
“Why not? He already recorded his testimony on video!”
“Nelson put a bullet through his head on Sunday afternoon,” Constanzia Vitali replied. “He’s not dead yet, but he’s in a coma. Even if he survives, he won’t be able to testify.”
Alex had understood Justin’s warning. It could only mean that Sergio’s people had already found and captured him. She quickly packed her bags and left the hotel through a back exit. Without a moment’s hesitation, she headed to Germany in her rental car. It had unsettled her very much that neither Justin nor Nick had heard from Mark or Oliver. She had called both of them repeatedly, and she had to use every bit of willpower to suppress the trembling that overcame her when she thought about Sergio. What would Sergio do to these three completely innocent men? The thought that someone could be harmed just for helping her caused her terrible feelings of guilt. What would happen if she returned to New York and went to the FBI? Would they believe that she was innocent? Her disappearance was still in the headlines of every American newspaper. Her picture was everywhere.
Alex chewed her lip. She had stepped on a hornet’s nest, and now the hornets were swarming. Ever since she’d handed the bank statements to Nick, the situation had gotten out of control. He had passed them on to the US Attorney’s Office. Sergio wouldn’t rest until he got his revenge for this humiliation. She couldn’t possibly be on the run from him for the rest of her life.
In Basel, she crossed the border into Germany without a problem. Just after Freiburg, she exited to fill up and buy cigar
ettes and a few phone cards; then she walked to a telephone booth. It was about noon in New York right now. Alex dialed Mark’s extension at LMI with shaking fingers. Mark didn’t answer, but an entirely different voice did.
“Hello,” she said in a French accent, “this is Hélène Lelièvre from Prudential Securities. Mr. Ashton?”
“No, Mr. Ashton is away from his desk at the moment.”
“Oh, when will he be back?” Alex realized that she was talking to her employee Tom Burns. “He asked me to call him right back, that it was urgent.”
“I have no idea when he’ll be back. He hasn’t been in the office for the last four days.”
Alex hung up. She leaned against the wall of the phone booth, her heart pounding. Mark had been gone for four days. That could not be good! She decided to try calling Oliver again. But he didn’t answer. As she dialed Nick’s number, she was close to tears. She needed to return to New York! Nick answered the phone right away, sounding very concerned.
“Alex,” he said in a muted voice, “where are you? Are you all right?”
“Yes, I’m okay. Have you heard from Mark Ashton?” she asked.
“No, but I found out where Oliver Skerritt is,” Nick replied. “He’s been sitting in a cell at the police headquarters for four days.”
“Why?” Alex almost dropped the telephone receiver. “Where is he now?”
“I managed to get him out. I had him brought to a safe place,” Nick answered. “He’s doing reasonably well.”
Alex felt miserable.
“I’ll never forgive myself that all of the people who were only trying to help me are in danger,” she sobbed. “They nabbed Justin yesterday. Nick, what should I do? I can’t just stand by and watch what this man is doing to my friends!”
“Come back to the city,” Nick pleaded. “I’ll pick you up from the airport and make sure that nothing happens to you.”
“I won’t drag you into this as well.” Alex wiped away her tears. “Out of the question. Vitali would kill us both!”
The phone card was almost used up, but she had made a decision. If she hurried, she could be in Frankfurt in three hours and—with some luck—in New York City about eight hours later. Then she would call Sergio to propose a deal.
“I’ll call you again,” she told Nick.
“Please be careful, Alex.” Nick’s voice was strained with worry. And then he added something that deeply touched Alex, despite her fear and worries.
“I’m thinking of you day and night, Alex,” he said softly. “I wouldn’t be able to handle it if something happened to you…”
The credit on the phone card was used up. Alex stared blankly through the fogged-up window. Her heart pounded wildly. I’m thinking of you day and night. Good Lord, she was doing the same!
Sergio Vitali sat at his desk at the VITAL Building. He stared at a brief newspaper obituary stating that renowned criminal defense lawyer Nelson van Mieren had succumbed to severe injuries last night. It hit Sergio like a punch to the stomach: of all people, his closest friend and long-time brother-in-arms had turned his back on him. Nelson had blown his brains out late Sunday afternoon. In reality, he’d never intended to work with him again. His promise to return to the office was just a scam. And now he was dead.
Sergio felt a wild, hot rage come over him. He took Nelson’s decision as a personal insult, and it angered him so much that he couldn’t grieve over the loss of his most important colleague and friend. Sergio crumpled the newspaper impulsively and threw it into the wastebasket. Nelson was sick anyway, and Sergio had already looked around for a suitable replacement—and found one. Although no one would ever have such comprehensive knowledge of his business as Nelson, Dennis Bruyner was an ace in his field. He was one of the best and smartest criminal defense lawyers in the United States—ambitious, sharp-witted, and completely unscrupulous. In his career so far, Bruyner had won dozens of cases that at first seemed completely hopeless, and he certainly didn’t mind helping murderers and rapists retain their freedom. Sergio didn’t need Nelson anymore, and if he preferred to die, so be it. No one lived forever. Furthermore, Nelson had been far too hesitant and scared recently.
Sergio turned toward the window with a grim expression and looked at the skyline. He had weathered worse storms, and he always emerged from them unscathed, and even stronger. Things would settle down again this time. Although MPM was lost, as well as his trust in Vincent Levy, there would be new opportunities for Sergio to secure his influence in the city. The men who were obligated to him wouldn’t admit to anything—Sergio was certain about that. It didn’t matter whether Kostidis had those bank statements, if there were actually copies of them. John de Lancie, for one, would never endanger his own future. He was ambitious and solely viewed his job as a US attorney of New York as a stepping-stone to Washington DC. Jerome Harding was eyeing the position of deputy secretary of state, and he had a good chance at it; Governor Rhodes also wanted to move up the ladder. No, these men would remain silent. And if they didn’t, it would be no big deal because there was no evidence connecting him to the Grand Cayman accounts.
His face turned sullen. Alex was still the main problem, although she was severely discredited by the murder allegations. But she was smart and had nothing to lose. As long as she was on the run, she was dangerous. In Switzerland, she had just slipped through his net, and now Monaghan claimed that she was headed back to the city. Sergio had ordered observation of all three airports as well as Penn Station, Grand Central Station, and the Port Authority bus terminal. Thanks to Monaghan, if she appeared in a public place, his men would nab her.
“This is absolutely crazy.” Lloyd Connors grinned in excitement as Nick entered his office. The control center had been moved to the US Attorney’s Office after de Lancie had called in sick. “Van Mieren gave twelve hours of testimony. Come here, Nick. Look at this!” The TV and VCR were centered on a large table.
“Check this out!” he exclaimed.
Nelson van Mieren’s face appeared on the screen. Nick could see that this man he had countered in the courtroom so many times over the years was very sick. His condition had rapidly deteriorated since their encounter at the Forty-First Precinct last summer. Over the next fifteen minutes, Nick and Connors listened attentively to van Mieren’s precise statements about the contract award for the construction of the World Financial Center. He spoke the names of the people involved in the scandal, never before uncovered due to Zuckerman’s death. He confessed how much money had been exchanged and described Vitali’s pitiless extortion methods.
“Unbelievable.” Nick shook his head.
“You were right all along,” Connors replied, “and we thought you were just obsessed. I’m sincerely sorry.”
Nick waved his hand. It was far too late. Zuckerman was dead, and the complex deals were water under the bridge now. Of course, they could confront Vitali with it, but any mediocre lawyer could get him off. Some of the crimes already exceeded the statute of limitations, and a video testimony might not be enough for a conviction in court.
“We’re in a position now to ask Vitali entirely different questions.”
His eyes sparkled with the excitement of a predator spotting its prey at a close range.
Nick sighed. “I knew all of this before. But no one wanted to hear it.”
“You had just a hunch,” Connors corrected him. “Now we have evidence.”
“That’s great. But…” Nick fell silent.
“But? But what?” Connors stared at him. “I thought you would be happy!”
“Lloyd,” Nick said, sounding agonized, “I’ve spent years of my life hunting this guy. I know I was ridiculed behind my back, and that now the same people who laughed at me are having this served to them on a silver platter. Please don’t take offense if I can’t quite share your excitement. This man has destroyed my life. He killed my wife and son. He stole my time from me, time that I could have spent with Mary and Chris.”
Connors looked at Nick
in consternation.
“We’re going to stop Vitali. We’ll bring him to justice for everything he’s done.”
For a moment, Nick felt envious of the young man’s optimism and enthusiasm, his firm conviction that he would accomplish his task. He had been like Lloyd Connors once, but it seemed like an eternity had passed since then. Nick sighed again. He felt so tired, so incredibly tired. He’d lost his sense of élan and power. Vitali had robbed him of his convictions, of his faith in law and order.
“I wish…” he started and stood up. “I really wish you all luck.”
“It will be your success, Nick,” Connors said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You made this happen.”
“No,” Nick said, shaking his head, “this is none of my business anymore.”
“But you must be satisfied if…”
“Satisfied?” Nick looked at the young man pensively. “No. I don’t feel anything. There’s just emptiness. What good is it to me if Vitali is sentenced? It won’t bring anyone back to life.”
Monday, December 6, 2000—The US Attorney’s Office in Manhattan
“Before granting immunity to Alex Sontheim, I want to talk to her.”
Tate Jenkins’s voice squawked through the telephone’s speaker. Nick and Lloyd Connors exchanged a brief glance.
“Mr. Jenkins,” Nick said with growing impatience, “she called me yesterday morning. She won’t return as long as she has reason to fear being arrested and charged with murder.”
“No one will arrest her. I already promised you that. But I won’t grant her immunity before I’m personally convinced of this woman’s innocence.” Jenkins sounded impatient. “You understand that, Mr. Kostidis, don’t you? She’s not just suspected of murder! Don’t forget that she also embezzled money. Tell her to contact me. The sooner, the better.”
Nick shrugged his shoulders.
“There’s one more thing, Mr. Kostidis,” said the deputy director of the FBI. “We were able to seize significant incriminating evidence on Grand Cayman. With the confessions of the bribed men, it could be enough.”