Swimming with Sharks (42 page)

Frank burst into tears when he got into his car in the hospital’s parking garage. He pressed his forehead against the steering wheel and sobbed. If only he could do something for Nick, something that would relieve his pain and suffering! But there was nothing, no chance, because Nick wouldn’t allow it. He had shut down, he was lost inside of himself, and nothing, no one, could reach him. Suddenly, Frank stopped crying and lifted his head. Yes! There was someone who might be able to help! He remembered how much Nick admired his old friend, the Jesuit priest Kevin O’Shaughnessy of the St. Ignatius monastery in Brooklyn. The priest had once been a practicing doctor. Although Frank was completely exhausted, longing only for his bed after ten terrible days, he started the engine and drove out
of the underground lot. He headed straight to Brooklyn. He knew he was grasping at straws, but perhaps this straw could save someone’s life.

“Zack, you know as well as I do that we need Alex!” Vincent Levy yelled in annoyance. “So stop sulking like a baby and control the damage that you’ve caused!”

“How dare she give her clients false names?” St. John clenched his fist in anger.

“How dare you snoop around on her desk and her computer and then admit it to her?” Levy countered angrily. Through a mistake like this, the entire lucrative scheme could blow up. Alex was too smart; her suspicion could have dangerous consequences.

“That dumb bitch,” Zack said. “I could—”

“You’re acting like a jealous prima donna,” Levy interrupted him harshly.

“I’m not jealous!” LMI’s managing director disputed.

“Whatever.” Levy glanced at his watch. “Given the circumstances, I think it’s appropriate to get some leverage against Alex.”

“Leverage?” Zack looked up in surprise.

“Yes.” The voice of LMI’s president sounded scornful. “Thanks to your hysterical reaction, she has cause for suspicion. And she’s intelligent enough to see through all of this.”

He opened his desk drawer, took out a German passport, and tossed it to Zack.

“That’s her passport. This afternoon, you’ll fly to Nassau with a young lady traveling under Alex’s name. You’ll help her open an account there at the local branch of the Teignier & Fils Swiss bank. Then you will deposit two hundred thousand dollars in cash and fly back again.”

Zack’s eyes widened, and then he grinned.

“That’s one hell of a plan. It sounds like something I’d come up with!”

Levy shrugged his shoulders and handed him two airline tickets.

“Perfect. That’s a great idea, Vince.” Zack rubbed his hands. His irritation was gone and felt back on top again.

“It wasn’t my idea,” Levy answered stiffly.

“I thought so.” Zack gave his boss a mocking look and then grabbed the tickets and passport. “You don’t have that much imagination.”

“Don’t forget why you are on LMI’s board. Another faux pas like this and you’ll be working in the mail room,” Levy said.

Zack’s face turned grim, and a hateful twinkle appeared in his eyes.

“By the way, Zack,” Levy said without a smile, “you’re flying to LA on Monday and will stay there until the dust has settled around here. We can’t afford to upset Alex.”

“As you wish, sir.” Zack faked a submissive bow. “I’ve heard that our esteemed M&A head has a meeting with Michael Whithers of Whithers Computers in Dallas next Thursday. This could turn out to be a huge deal if she doesn’t screw it up.”

“The only person screwing things up here,” Levy said coolly, “is you.”

Zack grimaced. Alex was in for the shock of her life, and so was this arrogant idiot Levy if he kept treating him in this demeaning manner. He had enough information to take them all down.

Father Kevin O’Shaughnessy didn’t hesitate for a second when Frank Cohen asked him for help. He had just returned from Europe the day before and had been thinking of paying his old friend a visit. At Mount Sinai, he learned that the doctors considered his visit the last attempt before they admitted their most prominent patient to the psychiatric unit. Nick sat on a chair by the window staring at his hands.

“Good evening, Nicholas,” Father Kevin said. Nick raised his head, and a spark of interest glimmered in his eyes, but it disappeared again at once.

“Good evening, Father,” he replied indifferently. The Jesuit priest’s heart grew heavy with sympathy when he realized what fate had done to this human being who had once been so fearless, so full of energy. A broken man sat in front of him. Horror and shock were visible in his dark eyes. Kevin O’Shaughnessy knew this expression all too well. He had seen it in the eyes of the many soldiers he’s seen return from Vietnam. Some of them were never able to overcome the trauma of war. They couldn’t forget the dead, the atrocities that they had witnessed. How much more terrible it must be to witness your own family’s death. What could he possibly say to a person who’d just suffered such a loss?

“Nicholas.” Father Kevin put his hand on the mayor’s shoulder, “Words can not express the deep sympathy that I feel for you, and how much I grieve for Mary and Christopher.”

Nick sighed.

“I want to help you. Tell me what I can do for you.”

“You can’t help me, Father.” Nick shook his head. “No one can.”

“God works in mysterious ways. Nothing happens without a reason on His earth.”

“What reason could there be to let three innocent people die?” Nick responded bitterly.

“Not one of us knows in the hour of death,” Father Kevin countered softly. “God has taken Mary and Christopher to His side because He thought it was right. Now they are with Him. But you must live on.”

“Must I?” Nick turned his face to the side. “It’s no consolation for me that they may be in heaven. I wonder whether there’s a God at all if He allows things like this to happen. Mary never harmed anyone, and still God allowed that she…that she…”

He stopped and wiped his bandaged hand across his face.

“Jesus Christ doubted in His hours of fear and hopelessness,” Father Kevin replied. “It’s human nature to have doubts. Everyone has them. If you don’t doubt, you can’t believe.”

“I don’t know if all of that is true. I don’t know anything. None of this makes sense anymore.” Nick looked at his old friend. “I wish that I had the courage to kill myself.”

Father Kevin looked at him seriously and then placed his hands on his shoulders.

“I remember this little boy,” he said in a low voice, “a boy I respected because he had courage. He had a grand vision that shone above his path like a bright star. This boy didn’t have an easy life. He had to witness the death of his mother, his father, and his brothers. But he never gave up. He never understood why his father gave up on himself. This boy fought for all of his life.”

Nick frowned.

“It’s not the same anymore,” he whispered. “I don’t have any strength left.”

“God will give you the strength to endure what He imposes on you. Even if you don’t understand at this moment how He let it happen that Mary and Christopher had to die.”

“No! There’s no consolation for this!” Nick replied vehemently. “Not for me! It’s my fault.”

“You should allow others to help you.” Father Kevin let him go and sat on the edge of the bed.

“They want me to talk about it,” Nick said, sounding agonized, “but I can’t. I don’t want to talk.”

“The doctors are very worried. And not only them. The entire city is grieving with you. The people waiting outside the hospital want you to get better because they love and trust you. You’ve become their role model, their guiding light.”

“No, no. I don’t want to hear that. I don’t want other people to expect something of me. I want…I…”

“They want to help you.”

“Damn it! What do they expect? Should I cry and scream and pull out my hair?”

“Yes.” Father Kevin nodded slowly. “I think that they expect something like that. They’re waiting for a reaction from you so they can see that you’ve overcome your shock.”

“I’m not in shock. I simply can’t cry! Everything is cold and dead inside of me.”

“Because you’re not allowing it. You’re afraid to lose control.”

Nick stood up and stepped toward the window.

“That may be,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “Maybe I’m afraid of going crazy.”

Both men were silent. The blood-red sun set over the other side of the park, behind the apartment buildings on the west side. Nick breathed heavily. What good would it do to talk about the horror that he experienced over and over again? It wouldn’t change anything. No one could help him—not even God. How should he continue to live with the thought that he was solely responsible for the death of these three people? Why hadn’t he listened to Mary’s plea that he simply forget Vitali? He had achieved so much and celebrated many successes, but that wasn’t enough for him. Filled with arrogance, he thought he was invincible. Now fate had taught him otherwise. Vitali had taken from him what he had loved most in his life. And the punishment for his guilt was agony and loneliness. No, there was no solace. Not for him. But no one understood.

“I love the Lord,” Father Kevin said in a low voice, quoting the Bible, “who listened to my voice. Who turned an ear to me on the day I called. I was caught by the cords of death, the snares of hell had seized me; I felt agony and dread. Then I called on the name of the Lord: ‘O Lord, save my
life!’ Gracious is the Lord and righteous; our God is merciful. The Lord protects the simple hearts.”

Nick heard the springs squeak as the old man raised himself from the edge of the bed. The Jesuit priest’s gaze was full of compassion, and he put his hand on Nick’s shoulder once again.

“You can come to me whenever you need to,” he said, “but don’t allow your heart to harden against God in anger.”

Nick remained silent.

“Don’t judge yourself more harshly than God would judge you,” the Father raised himself up again, “and the sun will also shine for you again. The Lord will help you in His mercy if you ask Him to.”

The head physician and his team were eagerly awaiting the Jesuit priest as he left the room.

“Did he speak to you?” Dr. Simmons asked.

“Yes,” Father Kevin O’Shaughnessy replied, “but don’t expect him to talk about the things that torment him. He’s never been one to speak of his feelings, not in all the forty years I’ve known him. It’s pointless to keep him here.”

“Are you suggesting we simply release him, even though he’s still in shock?”

“Yes.” Father Kevin nodded. “He’s going to be okay. I’m also a medical doctor with many years of experience treating traumatized people, especially soldiers returning from Vietnam. Nicholas Kostidis reminds me of those men. His behavior shows every symptom of post-traumatic stress disorder: a disturbed affect and a seeming lack of feeling. But just because he cannot express it does not mean grief is not roiling inside of him.”

The doctors looked at the priest in astonishment.

“But what about the suicide risk?” another senior physician said. “He mentioned several times that he wished he had the courage to kill himself.”

“He said that to me,” Father Kevin confirmed, “but I don’t take it seriously. A man like Nick Kostidis doesn’t tend to commit suicide. Although he’s still incapable of grieving, he couldn’t force himself to do that. But he blames himself for his family’s death. We won’t be able to talk him out of believing it.”