Swimming with Sharks (38 page)

The morning was still fresh, but the heat would become unbearable in a few hours. The months of July and August were intolerable in the city, which is why many New Yorkers who could afford to spent their time in the countryside or near the ocean did so. Nick Kostidis sat in the office at Gracie Mansion with his assistants Frank Cohen and Ray Howard, something they often did on Sunday mornings. After a light breakfast, they discussed important issues for which they rarely had time otherwise. Frank
read the agenda for the imminent visit of a Korean delegation, and Nick watched out the window as Christopher and Britney loaded their luggage into their black BMW. He was glad that they were taking Mary with them for a while. The way that things were developing here, it seemed better for to get her out of the city for a few days. Especially considering the second threatening letter. Frank vehemently insisted on getting Nick more security, but he didn’t tell Mary any of this. There were some things he preferred to keep to himself to avoid unnecessarily upsetting his wife. Mary had been nervous, even depressed in recent months. Time and again, Nick caught her staring absentmindedly out the window. She was usually bursting with energy, but now she seemed to be collapsing like a withered flower. He feared that she was sick, but none of the doctors could explain her condition. They advised him to shield her from any worries and show her more attention. But he missed exchanging ideas with Mary. For so many years, she had accepted the idea that his work had priority without complaining. Now, in her weakened state, he decided not to bother her with his worries.

It had been difficult for him to maintain his fearless and strong demeanor recently, because he felt increasingly discouraged and depressed. Things had gotten worse because he secretly longed for a woman other than his own wife. Nick couldn’t explain his fascination for Alex Sontheim, but there wasn’t a single day that he didn’t think about her. Yesterday evening, he’d noticed with a racing heart that her open aversion toward him had given way to a cautious sympathy. Maybe it would have been better not to invite her after all.

“I think they’re having problems with the car,” Frank observed and pulled Nick from his thoughts. “It looks like it’s not starting.”

“Let me take a look.” Nick stood up. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

“The alternator is dead,” Christopher Kostidis announced as his father stepped into the parking lot. Carey Lhota shrugged his shoulders and stepped back from the open hood.

“Unfortunately, I can’t do anything about it,” the chauffeur apologized.

“Too bad,” Mary said. “Now we have to postpone our departure for a few hours.”

“We can’t fix it that fast.” Christopher was annoyed as he looked under the hood. “Especially on a Sunday.”

“Well,” Nick said with a grin, “if you drove a solid American car, then…”

“Then it’d also take time to get a new alternator,” Christopher proudly defended his BMW.

“Why don’t you take my car,” Nick suggested. “Carey can bring the BMW to the repair shop tomorrow.”

“But you still need the car,” Mary objected.

“I can ride with Frank or Ray.” Nick shook his head. “That’s no problem.”

“I hope you’re not riding around town on the subway?” Mary looked at her husband with concern.

“No, I know you don’t like when I do that.” Nick laughed and put an arm around his wife’s waist.

“I’d really like to leave before it occurs to the rest of New York to go to Long Island.” Christopher looked at his watch.

“Come on!” Nick called. “Reload your luggage.”

Mary took his hand.

“Can’t you come with us for a few days?” she asked. Nick smiled and touched her face with both of his hands.

“You know what I was just thinking?” he said quietly. “I actually thought about coming out to Montauk on Friday.”

“Really?” Mary looked at her husband incredulously. “And your work?”

“I’ll arrange it somehow.” He kissed her.

“You promise?” Mary suddenly seemed genuinely happy.

“Yes, I promise. I’m looking forward to it.”

“We’re ready to go, Mom!” Christopher called. Britney was already sitting in the limousine’s passenger seat.

“I love you, Nick,” Mary whispered. “Take good care of yourself!”

“What the heck are they doing?”

Raymond Howard looked out the window and saw Christopher Kostidis sitting behind the wheel of the limousine. His face suddenly turned as white as a sheet.

“What’s going on?” Frank asked his colleague in surprise.

“My God, no. They must not under any circumstance…” Howard fell silent. Cold sweat broke out on his forehead. He saw Mary Kostidis kissing her husband good-bye. Christopher waved impatiently and called out something, while Britney Edwards sat in the passenger seat and smiled.

“Shit!” Howard cursed and charged out the door as if being chased by furies. Frank didn’t understand what was happening. Howard ran down the long corridor as fast as he could. The limousine had just rolled out of the parking lot as he jumped down the stairs. Mary and Britney waved from the open windows. Howard saw Nick smile and wave. He saw the dark blue car and ran after it, without regard for what his boss thought about him.

“Stop!” he screamed, running after the car with wildly waving arms. “Stop! Stop at once! Get out of the car, right now!”

When Justin got back to his desk, he found that CryptCrack had actually done its job, and he laughed like a little boy. He rubbed his hands and turned his gaze toward the screen. For a while, he seemed to
forget everything around him. Just Oliver and Alex returned to MIT’s basement with Justin. During their meal, they’d decided that Mark should fly back to New York. Although Alex hadn’t eaten anything since the evening at Gracie Mansion, she couldn’t manage more than half a sandwich. Her stomach was tied in knots, and not just because of Oliver’s probing glance, directed at her every now and then. What should she do if her suspicion was confirmed? How could she keep working at a firm that was involved in such illegal business? And how could she ever get rid of Sergio? She felt trapped, controlled by these people.

“There’s a high security area in the Levy & Villiers computer,” Justin said suddenly, startling Alex out of her thoughts. “There’s nothing unusual here at first sight, but some files are ultrasecure.”

“Can you get into them?” Oliver asked and Justin nodded. Except for the clicking of the keyboard, it was completely quiet in the office. Mark’s presence had neutralized the tension between them, but now it was back again and any levity had disappeared.

“Weird,” Justin said after a while, “these are just anonymous numbered accounts.”

“Let me see,” Oliver and Alex said at the same time, looking over Justin’s shoulder.

Alex explained to Justin how people opened numbered accounts. Anywhere in the world, the client needed to present proof of identity to the bank. But after that, the account was given a number or fictitious name known only to the client and the bank’s employee. Clients were protected from detection by the authorities—at least at banks in Switzerland, Liechtenstein, Luxembourg, or the Caribbean. These banks provided the utmost discretion and lured individuals with wealth of questionable origin. The Bahamas and the Caymans attracted many people who didn’t want to travel as far as Europe to evade taxation or the judicial authorities.

“What are you hoping to find?” Oliver asked curiously.

“Some kind of evidence of what they do with the money,” Alex replied. “MPM wasn’t created for their personal enrichment. Neither Levy nor Vitali needs to make money from insider trading. They’re wealthy enough already. There’s another reason why they’re doing this, and I want to find that out.”

Nick Kostidis turned around in surprise as his assistant charged down the stairs, screaming and waving. Nick registered the expression of terror and panic on Howard’s face, but he didn’t understand why this man—who was usually casual, cynical—was behaving this way. Howard was completely beside himself, chasing after the dark-blue car. Christopher seemed to have spotted him in the rearview mirror because he slowed down the car.

All of a sudden, Nick was overcome by a terrible premonition, and he instinctively also started to run. He saw Mary’s confused face through the car window as her smile vanished. Howard had just touched the door handle when a bright darting flame sparked from the limousine’s front hood; the car’s hood catapulted several yards into the air like a toy. Just a split second later, an enormous explosion shocked the car and ripped it to pieces.

Not comprehending what was happening in front of his eyes, Nick saw the explosive flame. The shock wave of the explosion, which even shattered some of the house windows, blew him off his feet and tossed him against the wall. Dazed and shocked, Nick crawled on all fours toward the burning inferno that the bomb had left behind on this peaceful Sunday morning.

“Mary!” he screamed. “Oh my God, no! Mary! Mary!”

Frank Cohen appeared in the door and stared uncomprehendingly at this horrific image. Nick had crawled to within a few yards of the burning car, and Frank ran after him without thinking about his own safety.
At that moment, the fuel tank exploded, and Frank jumped on his boss, who screamed as if he’d lost his mind. Nick hardly noticed Frank holding him back. He struggled, kicked his legs, and screamed like a mortally wounded animal. He was close to jumping into the flames, although it was too late to save anyone. The three people in the car were long dead. Nick saw Howard stumbling around the burning lawn like a living torch, and white flames were hurling up from the glowing red car wreck into the branches of an old chestnut tree.

“Mary!” he screamed madly. “Mary! Mary!
Oh my God, NO!
”

Nick didn’t feel the scorching heat burning his skin. He didn’t notice that a glowing piece of metal had pierced his arm. He felt no pain, only horror—abysmally cruel horror. The blast of the two explosions had startled the security officers. Devastated, they gazed at the burning pile that had just been an armored limousine. One of the men had the presence of mind to aim a fire extinguisher at Howard as he collapsed on the charred grass, his body jerking and curling up into a ball.

Carey Lhota lay unconscious at the bottom of the stairs—the blast had thrown him and smashed his head against the steps. The air was filled with dense smoke and the smell of gasoline and burned flesh. The glowing firestorm had burned all the flowers, and the branches of the massive chestnut were now ablaze. Wreckage was scattered everywhere, and the grass on the lawn had turned to gray ash.

The staff of Gracie Mansion ran outside and looked in shock at this horrible scene that resembled a plane crash. Nick had stopped fighting. He lay on the ground, sobbing, with his burned fingers clawed into the ground; he kept stammering his wife’s and son’s names. Blood ran over his face and poured out of a deep wound on his left arm. He couldn’t take his gaze off the burning wreck in which his entire family had died before his eyes.

“Get him away from here!” Frank yelled at the security officers. “Move it! Take him inside the house!”

Someone had called the fire department, and several fire trucks with loudly wailing sirens now sped through the park ahead of police cars and an ambulance. Frank Cohen’s entire body shook. He was incapable of comprehending what had just taken place. The threatening letters were serious. Someone had just tried to kill Nick Kostidis, but they got his family instead.