by Nele Neuhaus
“Enough for what? What do you mean?”
“I mean that Ms. Sontheim shouldn’t gamble too much. If she waits any longer, then her testimony might lose its value. In that case, I’d have no reason whatsoever to repeal the arrest warrant because it falls within the NYPD’s jurisdiction.”
Connors gasped for air. Nick struggled to suppress his anger. This arrogant bastard didn’t give a damn that it was Alex who got the ball rolling on this case. She had put her life at risk to bring Vitali to justice. Without her, the FBI would never even have uncovered this corruption scandal!
“But Ms. Sontheim is the only person capable of bringing Vitali before a court. She has detailed knowledge of the processes, the sequence of events, and—”
“Vitali is not my problem,” Jenkins said, interrupting Nick. “I’ll straighten this out with minimal collateral damage. If your witness is unwilling to cooperate, then she must bear the consequences on her own.”
“If I understand you correctly, Mr. Jenkins,” Nick said, hardly managing to control his voice, “you don’t have the slightest interest in arresting Vitali.”
“My job is to find out how far the net of corruption reaches within the State’s agencies and the City of New York,” Jenkins replied coolly.
“Then go ahead,” Nick said. “But you can rest assured that Vitali won’t hesitate to bribe the successors of every single person you remove from office. We need to tackle the evil at its root. Otherwise, your efforts will be in vain.”
“You better leave that problem to me, Kostidis.”
Connors signaled Nick, but Nick was truly enraged. His original intention was to get Jenkins to drop the charges against Alex, but this bureaucratic disinterest riled him up and reignited his passion for justice.
“Listen, Jenkins,” he said sharply, “I’m not some petty civil servant. In case you’ve forgotten, I was a US attorney and the deputy attorney general of the United States. I won’t allow you and your agency to sweep everything under the rug once again! I don’t know why you’re sparing Vitali, but this time I’ll put an end to his game. I’m toying with the idea of contacting the attorney general and the president, both of whom I know personally.”
Connors grimaced as if he had a toothache, but he couldn’t help but admire Nick’s blunt courage.
“This case is none of your business whatsoever!” Tate Jenkins barked angrily.
“It’s very much my business!” Nick countered. “My city has been made ungovernable by men like Vitali. I will no longer allow the Mob to rule this city, intimidating honest citizens with murder and threats! I lost my family because I dared to challenge this guy. I’ll fight this man with everything that I’ve got. If the FBI decides not to cooperate with me, then I’ll do it without you.”
“Mr. Kostidis, listen to me—”
“No, you listen to me! I’ll clean house this time. This opportunity presented itself, and I’m taking advantage of it. I don’t give a crap who you are, Jenkins. My job is to keep this city safe and livable. How is it possible that a man has become so powerful that even the FBI bows to his pressure!”
“Watch what you say, Kostidis.” Jenkins hissed.
“I don’t care. And do you know why?” Nick lowered his voice. “I’ll tell you. I’ve got nothing to lose. Absolutely nothing. My wife and my son died in front of my eyes because it didn’t suit someone that I was speaking the truth. I won’t let anyone or anything intimidate me. If you want to stop me from cleaning up this dirty business, then it’ll be over my dead body.”
“This is not the Wild West!”
“Exactly. Those days are over.”
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, and Connors held his breath anxiously. Had Nick gone too far?
“So what do you want, Kostidis?”
“I want you to guarantee immunity for Alex Sontheim once she returns to the city. She’s the most important witness against Vitali. In return, I’ll make sure that she talks to you and to the SEC. Furthermore, I promise to mitigate information leaking to the public if your agency helps us bring Vitali to justice for everything that he has done.”
“That actually doesn’t fall under the FBI’s jurisdiction.”
“Yes, it does. This is a matter of national security. Remember that Vitali does business with a Colombian drug cartel.”
Tate Jenkins sighed and gave in.
“I’ll talk to Mr. Horner.”
There was a click on the line, and the conversation was over. Nick leaned back in his chair and wiped the sweat from his forehead.
“Holy cow,” Lloyd Connors said and laughed quietly. “I can’t believe I heard that with my own ears. I don’t think anyone has ever spoken that way to Jenkins before.”
“They have no interest in Vitali,” Nick said. “They want to hang the little guys and let the big guys get away.”
“Yes, I have the same fear,” Connors said. He had stopped laughing. “But what are you going to do? You can’t force the FBI to do anything.”
“Oh yes, I can.” Nick looked up. “I have good connections with the press. The scandal would be out in a few hours. I’d tell them everything I know. It would be a sensation, especially if I mentioned names or even leaked parts of van Mieren’s statement to the TV stations. Then they’d have no choice but to act.”
“You can’t be serious,” Connors said, concerned. “You would ruin yourself.”
“I don’t care. I’ve achieved more than I ever dreamed I would, but I’ve also lost all that was dear to me. I don’t care if I make myself unpopular.”
“Have you ever considered what consequences this could have for me?”
“Of course.” Nick nodded. “For that reason, you’ll need to distance yourself from me immediately. I won’t hold it against you.”
The sleet lashed against the windows, and an icy wind howled around the building of the US Attorney’s Office.
Nick stood up.
“I’m sick and tired of maneuvering and waiting. With every passing hour, the risk increases that Vitali finds out what’s going on. As soon as he does, he will evade us again.”
The telephone rang, and Connors answered. He listened for a few seconds, taken aback, and then the expression on his face turned dark.
“I’m coming right away,” he said and hung up.
“Did something happen?” Nick asked.
“Yep,” Connors replied grimly. “Clarence Whitewater. His wife found him dead. He committed suicide in his garage with exhaust fumes.”
Nick was shocked. He had known Judge Clarence Whitewater for many years and worked with him frequently. The old man had been a model of integrity throughout his career. He had helped fight New York’s Mafia families in the 1980s. Even before that, Whitewater had won a reputation as an incorruptible and fair judge. What had motivated him to become corrupted by Vitali at the end of his brilliant career?
“I need to go there.” Connors grabbed his coat that he’d thrown across one of the chairs. “I’ll call you.”
Sergio’s initial anger about Alex gave way to a cold desire for vengeance. Time and again, he imagined what he would do once he finally had her in his hands. Dennis Bruyner thought it would be best if the police or the FBI captured Alex, but Sergio had a different opinion. She would bitterly regret what she had done! Alex Sontheim wouldn’t testify in any court. She’d be dead by the time he was finished with her.
The telephone rang, and Sergio winced.
“Yes?”
“Sergio!” Levy yelled in a hysterical voice. “Godfrey disappeared! The FBI showed up at Levy & Villiers a few days ago. They had a search warrant, and they brought people from the SEC and the US embassy.”
“So what?” Sergio replied in a bored voice. “Didn’t you go down there to make sure that the accounts were deleted? Let them search for what they like.”
“I tried!” Levy lowered his voice into a hiss. “The computer was locked up, and we couldn’t do a thing.”
Ser
gio was stunned.
“What a fucking mess! I thought Godfrey had taken care of everything and deleted the files, but now he’s supposedly been visiting his sick mother in Idaho since Tuesday. His parents have been dead for years. That miserable son of a bitch!”
Sergio listened to Levy’s rant while his brain worked in high gear. There must be something more going on here. Did the other side have information directly from the bank’s database? Would people like de Lancie, Harding, Governor Rhodes, or Senator Hoffman react differently if the FBI rang the doorbell instead of the US Attorney’s Office?
“What could they possibly find?” Sergio asked.
“I don’t know,” Levy replied, “I’ve never dealt with these matters—it was St. John’s job. For God’s sake, why did I ever get myself into this? My reputation will be ruined if this comes out!”
“Shut up,” Sergio said. “It does no good for you to keep wailing like a fucking wimp.”
His mind churned feverishly. If the FBI or the SEC had concrete evidence, they would have showed up at LMI to question Levy. Their appearance at the bank in the Caymans seemed more like a shot in the dark. If his name had been dropped in connection with this investigation, his friends at the SEC would have informed him by now. It couldn’t be all that bad.
“Listen, Vince,” Sergio said. “If they have found something and they ask you about it, then you claim you know nothing. Tell them that St. John was solely responsible for the LMI subsidiaries. They’ll never be able to prove we had anything to do with it.”
“Actually, I really don’t have anything to do with it,” Levy responded, and Sergio caught his breath. Rotten bastard, he thought to himself. It wasn’t for nothing that Nelson had warned him about Levy. Nelson had called him an opportunist. How right he had been!
“Vincent,” Sergio said, hardly managing to contain his anger, “it was only because of me and my money that you were able to turn LMI from a small-time outfit into what it is today. You’ve fulfilled your lifelong dream—and, if I might add, you’ve done it with an impressive criminal energy. You’re in just as deep as anyone—if not even deeper. As the president and chairman of the board, you’re responsible for everything that happens in your firm. You’ll regret it if you decide to turn your back on me.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“I’m only saying, in for a penny, in for a pound. You’re part of this to the bitter end, and if you’re smart and keep your nerve, then nothing will happen to you. I can promise you that. But if you don’t, you’ll go under just like MPM.”
Sergio hung up and slammed his fist on the table. You’re about to lose control…Nelson van Mieren’s words echoed in his head, and suddenly Sergio felt an unfamiliar, frightening sensation of panic rising inside of him. Had he overlooked something? Did he make a mistake somewhere? There was no one left he could ask for advice. Nelson and Zack were dead, and Alex, whom he’d never deemed especially important, seemed to have become pivotal in this situation. Did he make a mistake not letting her in on his business and making her his confidant? He sighed and stood up. It was pointless to grapple with ifs and buts. Now it was important to keep a level head. He needed to cover his back as quickly as possible.
The Delta Airlines flight from Miami landed in Newark at nine thirty p.m. Alex picked up her luggage at the baggage claim. Before exiting to the arrival hall, she disappeared into the restroom. She had no desire to run into the arms of Sergio’s henchmen, which is why she quickly undressed, slipped into a business shirt and gray suit, knotted a tie around her neck, and put on men’s shoes that she had bought—along with everything else—at the airport in Miami. Then she pulled her hair back tight and stuffed it beneath a blond short-haired wig. A fake moustache completed her costume. Alex reviewed her work in the mirror. She looked like a man—at least at first glance. As she left the ladies’ restroom, she caught a surprised and disapproving glare from a woman washing her hands at the sink. The disguise worked.
Alex spotted Sergio’s people immediately. Two men were standing at opposite sides of the automatic doors and closely observing every person walking between them. She slipped past unnoticed, and her heart somersaulted in relief. It worked! She hailed a cab outside the terminal. An icy, stormy wind was blowing, whipping the sleet sideways across the highway.
“Pretty nasty out there, isn’t it?” the taxi driver asked. “Where are you from, sir?”
“Florida,” Alex replied. “It wasn’t much warmer down there if you can believe it.”
“Where are you headed?”
“Manhattan. Do you know a cheap hotel in the Theater District?”
“Let’s see. On Forty-Seventh Street, between Sixth and Seventh Avenues. The Portland Square Hotel. It’s cheap, but clean.”
“Sounds good. Take me there.”
The taxi drove off. Alex had carefully deliberated on where she should stay after returning to the city. She had first considered a large, anonymous luxury hotel, but it might raise suspicions if she paid in cash. She would be less conspicuous at a cheaper hotel.
Alex longed for a hot shower and a soft bed. In the past forty-eight hours, she had been on so many airplanes that she had completely lost her sense of time. She’d traveled through Switzerland, Germany, France, and then Miami. She was wide awake and dead tired at the same time. The news was on the radio, and suddenly Alex jerked to attention.
“Could you turn the radio up a bit?” she asked the driver.
“Whitewater, who had been the chief judge of the State of New York since 1982, was found dead in the garage of his house in Patchogue on Long Island this morning. Speculation as to whether the death was a suicide has not yet been confirmed or denied by the US Attorney’s Office…”
The blood rushed in Alex’s ears. Clarence Whitewater was one of the men Sergio had paid off. She had personally met the stately, white-haired man with an impeccable reputation at Sergio’s house. Did the judge commit suicide because he feared his connection to Vitali would come to light? Nick had given the bank statements to the US Attorney’s Office, and they had apparently already gotten to work.
The taxi passed through the Holland Tunnel to Manhattan. It was too late to turn back. Alex took a deep breath, hoping the avalanche she’d triggered wouldn’t suffocate her.
Shortly after ten, Nick returned to Gracie Mansion. He had spent the evening at a charity gala at the Waldorf Astoria, which he left immediately after the official portion ended. He didn’t feel like being around laughing revelers, listening to gossip. Clarence Whitewater’s death was the main topic of conversation. Everyone knew something about it, but no one had anything concrete to say. Nick wished the security officers a good night and walked to the wing of the house where his private rooms were located. Just like every evening when he returned to the house, he contemplated finding himself an apartment somewhere in the city.
Nick undressed and took a hot shower to relax his tense neck. He had been waiting two days to hear from Alex. Tate Jenkins had actually agreed to an amnesty, but on the condition that Alex contact him immediately. Time was running out, but Nick had no way of reaching her. For a brief moment, he thought that she might never return to New York again. She had plenty of money and a new identity. It would be easiest and safest for her to never set foot in this city again. Nick understood that, but the sheer possibility of never seeing her again caused him a sharp pain. He didn’t care whether he looked like a fool in front of Jenkins and Connors if Alex remained on the run. It would be much worse not to see her again, not even knowing where she was or how she was doing.
Nick slipped into his bathrobe, walked into the kitchen, and stared into the refrigerator. Although he’d had the opportunity to feast on an opulent buffet at the Waldorf Astoria, he had spurned the lobster, veal medallions, stuffed quail breasts, and Beluga caviar. Just as he pulled a bottle of milk from the fridge, the telephone rang. He almost dropped the bottle in shock. As he had so many times over the past few days, he hoped that it might be Alex
on the other end of the phone. And this time it was really her.
“Hello, Nick,” she said. “It’s me.”
“Alex!” he exclaimed in relief. “How are you? I thought something had happened to you!”
“I could hardly call you from the airplane.”
From the airplane? Nick’s heart started pounding.
“Where are you now?” he asked.
“Back in the city.”
“I must speak to you, Alex. It’s very important. It was not without a fight with the FBI, but I managed to convince them to repeal your arrest warrant. When can we meet?”
Alex hesitated for a moment, and Nick feared that she would hang up.
“It’s already late,” she said, but then she seemed to change her mind. “Do you know the Portland Square Hotel in the Theater District? On Forty-Seventh Street, between Sixth and Seventh Avenues? I’m in room 211.”
“Okay,” Nick replied, “I know where that is.”
Nick hung up and took a deep breath. He should have called Lloyd Connors immediately, but he decided to go to Alex by himself. There would be enough time for all the interrogation in the coming days.
“Are we supposed to sit here all night?” Gino Tardelli complained. “It’s almost eleven. This guy isn’t gonna hit the road in this lousy weather.”
“Shut up,” Luca said. He had personally taken on the mayor’s surveillance and was in constant contact with two groups of twenty men via his cell phone. They took turns standing guard so that the mayor’s security wouldn’t get suspicious. They had been following him all over town for the past four days, observing him during his countless public appearances, but they saw nothing suspicious. Unfortunately, they couldn’t tap his highly secured phone line, but if he met with Alex, they would notice.
“We’ll stay here until one o’clock, and then the next shift will take over.”