Swimming with Sharks (15 page)

“Sometimes I wonder whether I’m doing the right thing or making big mistakes because I’m too zealous.”

“Mistakes?” Frank was taken aback. He didn’t think of his boss as someone who doubted himself.

“Yes.” Kostidis leaned back and closed his eyes. “Zuckerman would still be alive if I hadn’t insisted on keeping him locked up for so long until he came clean. Now his wife is a widow and his children are fatherless. He’s dead, and we still haven’t made any progress.”

Frank was shocked.

“Vitali is stronger than me,” Nick Kostidis continued. “He’s stronger because he’s ruthless. Because he has no conscience and doesn’t give a damn about human lives. What have I done?”

“But Nick,” Frank objected, “we did the right thing. How could we possibly know that Zuckerman would be murdered? With his testimony, we could have killed
ten
birds with one stone.”

“Do we really have the right to risk someone’s life in the name of justice?” Kostidis opened his eyes. “I’m not so sure about that anymore. I used to think that I was doing the right thing.”

His boss’s doubts and dejection affected Frank more than any fit of rage could have, but he couldn’t think of what to say to console him.

“Go home, Frank.” Kostidis placed his hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “You’ve more than earned your time off after work.”

Frank nodded. “I didn’t mean to spoil your evening, but I thought that it would be better for you to hear the bad news from me than the radio.”

“Yes, you’re right. Thank you.” Nick Kostidis sat up straight, now that the first spectators poured out of the open-air theater. “Call Jerome Harding and Michael Page. I’d like to meet them tomorrow morning at ten o’clock in my office.”

“On it,” Frank nodded. He said goodnight to his boss and headed home with much on his mind.

Mary Kostidis slowly flowed with the crowd and searched for her husband. Once again, something so important had happened that it couldn’t wait until morning. She hadn’t been able to follow the rest of the theater performance because she wondered what was going on. When she finally caught sight of him, his facial expression said everything.

Mary had known her husband for thirty-two years. She had always supported him and admired his dedication, but she observed with concern how hard he fought. The wrinkles in his face had grown deeper, and the first gray strands had begun to appear in his thick dark hair. As the mayor, he was more vulnerable than ever before. He was always in the public eye, and any small mistake he made was greedily seized upon and mercilessly exploited by his enemies. He had been so tense the past few weeks that he didn’t often really listen to her. Something occupied his mind, but she knew that pushing him for information was pointless. He would tell her if he deemed it necessary. On the outside, Nick appeared as strong and fearless as ever. His circumstances and the grueling years of fighting had made him hard as granite, but on the inside, he remained a sensitive and compassionate human being who suffered when his efforts failed.

Mary was often worried about her husband because he antagonized many powerful men. He had never been afraid. She still loved him as much as when they first met in the reading room of the New York Public
Library. Mary admired his ambition and straightforwardness and loved his ability to admit defeat gracefully. Time and again, he foiled other people’s business with his plans. He had been at the receiving end of many death threats, hostile newspaper articles, and anonymous phone calls. But none of this ever deterred Nick from doing what he thought was right. Mary was worried, but she never bothered him with her concerns. If there was anyone who knew what he was doing, it was Nick. She’d support any actions he took to fulfill his lifetime dream of improving the quality of life for the residents of New York.

“What happened?” she asked when she reached her husband.

“David Zuckerman, the man who agreed to testify in front of the investigation committee, was shot,” Nick said after they had been walking for a while. “Frank was here and told me.”

“My God!” Mary knew how much it meant to her husband to find a witness to provide testimony against Sergio Vitali and to nail his powerful enemy—who had triumphed over him time and again. “That’s terrible.”

“No,” Nick said, walking with his head down. “It’s sickening.”

They left the park through the Metropolitan Museum exit. Passersby greeted Nick, but he didn’t respond. Nick was normally in his element in public, known for having an open ear for anyone, but tonight he looked exhausted. They crossed the street, and Nick signaled the passing taxis.

“I wonder whether Frank has a private life at all,” he said pensively.

Mary smiled and shrugged her shoulders.

The third taxi stopped.

“Christopher is coming home this weekend,” Mary said as the yellow taxi turned from Fifth Avenue onto Eighty-Sixth Street toward Carl Schurz Park, the location of Gracie Mansion.

“Oh,” Nick mumbled, lost in his thoughts, “how nice.”

“He’s bringing his girlfriend.” Mary noticed that her husband wasn’t really listening. “He wants to introduce her to you. You can spend some time with them on the weekend, right?”

“Pardon me?” Nick gave his wife an apologetic look. “I was just thinking about something.”

Mary sighed and patiently repeated what she’d said.

“Chris has a girlfriend?” Nick asked in surprise. “This is the first time I’ve heard about it!”

“That’s why he’s coming to the city,” Mary replied. “Her name is Britney Edwards, and she’s studying art history and philosophy at Harvard. Her family lives somewhere in the Hudson Valley, and her father is a high-ranking officer at West Point.”

“Aha. And how serious is Chris about her?”

“I think he’s very serious. He told me he wants to marry her.”

“Get married?” Nick stared at his wife in irritation.

“Why not?” She laughed. “After all, he’s already twenty-nine. We were already married and had a child at that age.”

“Yes, sure, but…” Nick shook his head. Unbelievable that their boy was already twenty-nine. It felt like his first day of school was just yesterday. How quickly time flies! Christopher was a good kid who had never caused him any trouble. High school, Air Force, and medical school. Now he had a good job at Washington Memorial Hospital—his résumé was exemplary. And he had never reproached Nick for spending so little time with him. He’d never blamed his father for rarely going to the ballpark or the movies like his friends’ fathers did.

“You realize how old you are when you look at your kids,” Nick said and wiped his hand across his face. “I have so many plans for the future, but more and more, I feel that time is running out.”

“You’re not old, my love,” Mary said, grabbing his hand. “You’re a man in his best years.”

“That’s tactful.” Nick’s smile was bitter. “I feel ancient. Everything’s getting harder. I used to be so enthusiastic, so sure that I would be successful. And now…”

He fell silent.

“Don’t take Zuckerman’s death personally.”

“I don’t. It’s just the situation. I’ve failed. It’s not like in the movies where the good guys always win.”

“Are you sure that Vitali is behind this assassination?”

“Yes, I’m pretty sure.” Nick sighed. “Somehow he found out that Zuckerman agreed to testify. And he acted immediately. I blame myself that I pressured this man into cooperating with us. I’m responsible for his death.”

“No, you’re not. He was the one who got involved with criminals.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that he’d still be alive if I hadn’t pushed him to testify.”

The grim expression on her husband’s face made Mary feel queasy. She anticipated that there was more than this man’s death behind his dejection.

“But it was the US Attorney’s Office that decided to keep him in custody,” she said carefully. At least he was talking to her instead of falling into his gloomy silence of recent weeks.

“De Lancie wanted to let him go six months ago.” Nick made a dismissive gesture. “He had no interest in pursuing this. In fact, he seemed uneasy about upholding the charges against Zuckerman.”

“Uneasy? He could have revealed a bribery scandal!”

“That’s exactly what bothers me.” Nick shrugged his shoulders and stared out the window. “It almost seems that this is exactly what de Lancie wanted to prevent.”

Mary cringed.

“Do you think that de Lancie…”

“Yes. I have the suspicion that he’s on Vitali’s payroll.”

“My God, the US attorney?”

“You can buy anyone with enough money.”

“Not you.” Mary touched Nick’s hand, but he didn’t react to her affection. He didn’t feel like being comforted, so she pulled her hand back again.

“Yeah”—Nick laughed unhappily—“Not me. I’m the idiot tilting at windmills. Not only do I have all of the powerful people in the city against me, but worse—I also have a traitor among my ranks.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Vitali found out about Zuckerman’s change of heart within twelve hours. Only the FBI and my people—no one else—knew about it.”

“And de Lancie?”

“I suspected him at first, but he was in Europe and wouldn’t have been informed.”

Mary was taken aback. She remained silent. A traitor among his own ranks—a mole! Now she understood why her husband was so discouraged. He was capable of fighting the enemies he knew without fear, but it was a terrible realization that someone on his staff—a confidant—had been secretly informing the enemy.

“I won’t win this,” Nick said quietly. Mary saw the gloomy expression in his eyes illuminated by the headlights of oncoming traffic. “I’ve won so many times when it seemed impossible, had so many unexpected victories. But this time I’m going to lose. I know it.”

“That’s not true,” she whispered.

“Yes, it is.” He shook his head without looking at her. “They’re stronger. They’ll do everything to destroy me because I’m in their way. I can’t defend myself if they corrupt my closest staff members.”

He sighed wearily. Sometimes he had the feeling that he was bailing water from a sinking ship with a teaspoon. The second he filled a hole, a bigger one opened up somewhere else. He couldn’t have imagined that trying to keep his campaign promises could be so frustrating and hopeless. He certainly could have done the same thing as so many of his predecessors. He could have made deals with people like Vitali, instead of fighting them and wearing himself out in the process. But Nick knew that he wouldn’t be able to look at himself in the mirror if he did that. Many of New York’s prominent individuals from business, finance, or politics
had approached him more or less openly, but he categorically rejected anything that could have been misconstrued as a payoff.

Just two weeks ago, he’d had a dispute with Charlie Rosenbaum—one of the city’s biggest real-estate tycoons—at one of those pompous receptions. The party was nothing but a business development meeting disguised as a charity event. Rosenbaum had promised to build a kindergarten in Harlem. When Nick asked him the price of such generosity, Rosenbaum answered that it would be nice if the Department of Buildings could retroactively issue a permit for six additional stories that had been built on top of his new downtown skyscraper “by accident.” This was how things worked in New York, but that’s exactly what had always bothered Nick. The rich got away with everything; laws and prohibitions didn’t apply to them. They put money on the table, and then they could do whatever they pleased. They drove drunk, ignored building codes, cheated, lied, stole, and even killed people.

“I promised my constituents I’d make New York a more honest place,” he had replied to Rosenbaum. “I intend to keep this promise.”

“What’s dishonest about the deal that I’m proposing?” Rosenbaum’s eyes were wide in fake surprise. “I treat the city to a beautiful new kindergarten that’s modern, bright, and equipped with all the bells and whistles. This is great publicity for both you and me. In return, I get a retroactive permit. Tax-paying businesses will move into those six stories. There are only benefits for the city. Who really cares whether a skyscraper has a hundred and sixteen or a hundred and twenty-two stories?”

“It’s the principle.”

“The principle! Nick! The city needs private investors because it’s broke. I invest, but I expect consideration in return. That’s how business works. No one can live on charity alone.”

“That’s bribery.”

Rosenbaum’s face took on a sinister expression.

“An evil word for such a good deed. It would provide a safe place for many children who’d just be hanging out in the street and smoking crack in a few years, and then becoming criminals.”

It was all too tempting! The city’s coffers were indeed chronically empty, and a new kindergarten in the South Bronx or Harlem was simply not feasible due to a lack of municipal funds.

“Charlie,” Nick said, “how can I get you this permit without my constituents accusing me of being an opportunist? Of course, I would love to have a new and beautiful kindergarten that doesn’t cost the city anything, but I can’t just walk into the Department of Buildings and say,
Hey, Mr. Rosenbaum has built six more stories than originally planned on his building. He’s very sorry, but now he needs a permit even if you rejected it during the planning stage.”