Swimming with Sharks (36 page)

“That’s unbelievable!” Nick jumped up in a rage. “Are you seriously insinuating that I solicited police officers to torture a detainee?”

“I’m not insinuating anything,” de Lancie said. “The family of the deceased insists on an investigation of the events.”

“Listen to me closely, John,” Nick interrupted de Lancie in a low, threatening voice. “God knows that I have other things to take care of right now, but I won’t stand idle and watch you trying to publicly discredit me.”

“I don’t have a choice—” de Lancie began, but Nick didn’t let him finish his sentence.

“Oh yes you do!” he yelled. “I did the same job as you long enough to know that no one can put you under pressure—especially not the family of a man who was caught in the act of committing a crime—unless someone has leverage against you.”

“What are you saying?” De Lancie’s voice hardened.

“Should I express myself more clearly?” Nick was so enraged that he was about to call de Lancie one of Vitali’s henchmen.

“I warn you, Kostidis,” John de Lancie said, “don’t interfere with things that are none of your business.”

“You were surprisingly fast to show up at the police station yourself. Why didn’t you just send someone from your staff like you usually do?”

De Lancie’s voice became even frostier: “You may be the mayor of this city, and you may be incredibly popular, but I don’t care. What you insinuated is incredibly insolent. I’ve summoned you before the investigation committee; I advise you to show up. Good night!”

“Can I tell you something, Ray?” Nick slammed down the receiver on the hook, grinning ferociously. “This bastard’s scared. Someone is putting him under serious pressure, someone he’s obligated to. I’m sure it’s Vitali.”

“You think that Vitali bought de Lancie?” Howard opened his eyes wide. “The US attorney?”

“Yes, that’s what I think.” Nick ran his hand through his hair. “The only reason he ordered an investigation is to crucify me. It’s a joke! I didn’t speak to a single police officer that night. Nobody but Vitali himself had an interest in this kid’s death. He really would have been more useful alive.”

“They will charge you with slander if you publicly claim that,” Howard warned him.

“I don’t need to do that,” Nick countered. “De Lancie knows that I suspect him of corruption. But he’s losing his nerve. He’ll make a mistake one day. I’ll find out who’s behind this.”

Someone knocked on the door, and Mary entered the office. She saw her husband standing at the window with a grim expression on his face and his hands linked behind his back. He stared out across the river.

“Some of the guests are ready to leave, Nick.”

“I’ll come in a second,” he replied curtly.

“What are you going to do?” Howard asked.

“What do you think?” Nick looked at his assistant suspiciously.

Howard shrugged his shoulders. “You can’t afford too much negative publicity. Will you tolerate their attempt to publicly discredit you?”

“I’m accountable to my constituents and myself.” Nick turned around. “I won’t let the Mob and its paid henchmen throw me off course! Not through an investigation committee, not through extortion, not through threatening letters! I’ve never let myself be intimidated. Vitali should know better than that.”

His burning black eyes seemed to pierce Howard, and blood rushed into Howard’s face.

“This is
my
city, Ray. Do you understand?”

Howard turned his gaze away. He had mistaken Nick’s aggressive response for weakness, but Nicholas Kostidis was courageous, and he was tough. Tough as steel. He was the best mayor this city had ever had, but he was too straightforward for this job, too stubborn and unwilling to compromise. He stood in the way of influential men—some of whom didn’t care about human life.

“I need to go back to my guests,” Nick said. “Go home, Ray. I’ll see you here tomorrow morning at nine. And then we’ll devise a strategy.”

Howard responded with a smile, but it vanished after the mayor left the room. It was a shame. There were very few men like Nick Kostidis. But now he had really stepped on Vitali’s toes. He had no future; perhaps it would be better to side with someone who did. The letters warned that the mayor of New York didn’t have long to live.

A bright-blue sky arched across the city’s skyline with the promise of another hot day as Alex took a taxi to LaGuardia Airport. The party had left her with a strange feeling. She had long suspected that Nick Kostidis only wanted to use her for his own purposes, but now she wasn’t so sure. Last night, she had gotten to know his likable side,
which made her both curious and insecure. She regretted that she couldn’t continue the conversation with Nick; he was certainly more concerned about her than she’d thought. He wasn’t the obsessed fanatic that Sergio claimed he was. He was natural, human. People in New York tended to look at their fellow human beings from the perspective of usefulness. Nick Kostidis was different, and Alex had to admit that she’d gotten him all wrong.

The taxi stopped in front of the airport terminal, and she paid and got out. Her heart tensed up when she saw Oliver standing at the Delta counter. More than a year had passed since she last saw him. Alex mustered all of her courage and walked over to him.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi, Alex.” His gray eyes gazed at her through his round glasses. He seemed just as relaxed and steadfast as ever. All of a sudden, she realized how much she had missed him. She smiled shyly, and he smiled too. He opened his arms, and she flung her arms around his neck.

“Are we okay?” she whispered, and Oliver nodded his head silently. “I’m so sorry about what happened. I had no idea until Mark told me about it.”

“I survived.” Oliver held her tight for a moment, and then he observed her closely. “You look pretty stressed out.”

“I wish I had listened to you,” Alex said, exhaling deeply, “but now I’m in too deep in this mess. Thank you for helping me.”

“I’m not going to let some Mafia thugs intimidate me,” he said, and Alex didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. The fear that had become her constant companion suddenly seemed a little bit more tolerable.

“I missed you, Alex,” Oliver said quietly and cradled her face in his hands, “and I was very worried about you.”

“I missed you, too.” She felt a thick lump in her throat. She quickly wiped away the tears with the back of her hand as she saw Mark walking toward them in the terminal. Oliver grabbed her hand and pressed
it firmly. They boarded the flight to Boston at a quarter to nine. During the flight, Oliver explained to Alex and Mark how the incorporation process of an international business worked on the British Virgin Islands and what he hoped to find out with his friend Justin’s help.

At the Boston airport, they took a taxi to the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Justin Savier was waiting for them at the Wiesner Building, a futuristic structure that housed the world-renowned MIT Media Lab. Justin wasn’t the geeky computer nerd that Alex expected but a lean, sunburned man with an abundance of dark dreadlocks. He wore jeans, sneakers, and a washed-out T-shirt. The three men greeted each other, and after Alex was introduced, Justin handed out little plastic name tags. They passed through a turnstile at a security gate, and Alex was astonished to find herself in almost monastically simple corridors. There was no indication that scientists were working on the world’s most advanced technologies behind these doors. They rode an elevator two stories underground; they reached a large anteroom with a steel door that looked like a vault.

“The hallowed halls are behind this door,” Justin declared with reverence. Alex was amazed. “America’s intellectual elite spends half of their lives here. The Western world’s most powerful computers are here—supercomputers worth hundreds of millions of dollars. They’re the heart and the brain of our modern technological world.”

He positioned himself in front of a retina scanner, a green-lit windowpane that was embedded into the wall. It beeped, the steel door opened with a quiet clicking noise, and they entered an imposing hall.

“Welcome to the world of artificial intelligence,” Justin said with a grin. Compared to the solemn silence of the upper stories, the large, fluorescent-lit room was almost shocking. Gray cabinets were lined up in long rows and made an unexpected amount of noise.

“These are air-conditioning units,” Justin said, before Alex could even ask. “It would be unbearably hot in here without them. The
computers need an enormous amount of electricity—almost as much as a small town.”

Alex felt like a trespasser sneaking around in a restricted military bunker.

“We’re working with the world’s most advanced supercomputers,” Justin continued. He stopped in front of one of the machines. It seemed practical and unimpressive and was housed in a plain gray cabinet. “For example, this is a Cray-2. With a memory of two terabytes, it can process about 1.6 million operations per second. That one over there is an ETA, which is already eight times more powerful. The SUPRENUM is even a little faster. It’s connected to thirty-two parallel operating node computer systems and is capable of unbelievably complex processing. These contain the largest nonmilitary databases in the Western world.”

Alex, Oliver, and Mark nodded in fascination. They continued walking.

“These supercomputers are quickly on their way to overcoming the limitations of the human brain. The future of our world belongs to machines like this,” Justin said.

“Sounds like science fiction,” Oliver remarked, and Justin grinned.

“Cool, isn’t it?” he said. They had entered into a confusing labyrinth of hallways flanked by gigantic computers. After walking a while, they reached a row of offices—similar to the layout at LMI—separated only by glass walls. Justin entered the third glass box, its door bearing his name. As expected, the small room was stuffed to the gills with the most modern computer technology. An unimaginable array of computers and hardware components, drives, printers, monitors, and all kinds of other conceivable devices cluttered the room. An impressive tangle of cables disappeared into the floor. Justin sat down at his hopelessly overloaded desk, which had no fewer than five monitors on top of it. He leaned back and lit a cigarette. He simultaneously pushed a button, which started the exhaust fan in the ceiling.

Alex began briefing him on the PBA Steel matter and her suspicion that someone was transacting illegal business behind her back using her confidential information.

“Mark found out that there’s a connection between the brokerage firm that purchased the stocks and LMI,” she said, “and we’d love to know who’s behind it.”

Oliver explained to Justin about offshore companies and that it was virtually impossible to find out who founded them.

“Hmm.” Justin scratched his head. “Your company created a corporation, which in turn is owned by another corporation that is involved in illegal business. Do I have that right?”

“Sort of.” Alex was impressed by Justin’s quick comprehension. “LMI has launched a fund that, among other things, is invested in a venture-capital company called SeaStarFriends, which in turn is registered on the British Virgin Islands.”

Justin drummed his fingers on the desktop.

“Where should I start?” He looked at his visitors’ faces.

“At LMI,” Oliver decided.

“Can you get into LMI’s central computer?” Mark inquired.

“That shouldn’t be a problem.” Justin nodded. “They’re probably working with an industry-standard operating system.”

“Are you familiar with that?” Alex wanted to know, and got an amused look.

“Just a little bit.” Justin grinned.

He asked them for some information about LMI, and then his fingers whizzed around the keyboard. He raised his head with a smile after a few minutes.

“Welcome to LMI,” he announced with a hint of pride and a touch of casual professionalism. “They’re using BankManager 5.3. That’s an old friend of mine, which makes things much easier.”

Mark and Alex leaned forward in disbelief. Oliver grinned.

“LMI has an information security department,” Alex said, voicing her concern. “They’ll notice if someone invades the system from the outside.”

“Sure”—Justin nodded—“BankManager 5.3 has a firewall, just like all the other corporate networks. But coincidentally, IBM gave us a contract for this system’s security testing—something we frequently do for software companies. At that time, we installed a ‘back door,’ which allows us to circumvent the normal protections. We can gain access to the entire system at any given time.”

“Does this mean,” Mark asked, “that you can get into the central computer of any company that uses this software?”

“That’s right.” Justin leaned back with a satisfied smile on his face. “We’re concerned with the system’s security. We work on improving security to protect against attacks from lunatics who want to wreak havoc.”

He turned his eyes back to the monitor and worked the keyboard relentlessly.

“Let’s open the back door now and walk in,” he said with a focused expression.

“BM 5.3 is protected by a secure-access firewall. This is a password-protected authentication method. Secure access works with Phazer, a fiber optic device that detects and defends against both internal and external attacks on the network.”