Swimming with Sharks (56 page)

“My guy from Georgetown just called,” he said. “He checked the computer systems of LMI and all its subsidiaries. Some confidential files were in fact accessed on July 6. However, it didn’t come through as a hacker because that person had access rights.”

He paused briefly.

“What does that mean?” Levy asked impatiently.

“Whoever accessed these files has the authority to do so or somehow got authorization. However, the system at Levy & Villiers recorded unusually high activity on that day, which indicates that a program was used to hack the password.”

“Zack,” Sergio muttered, “that little bastard.”

“These files were accessed a total of fourteen times from an external computer.”

“Fourteen times?” Levy swallowed.

“The last time was last night at nine thirty.”

“Great.” Sergio exchanged a glance with Levy.

“Who could this possibly be?” Levy was at a loss. “Only three people have universal access rights: Monaghan, Fox, and me. You can exclude me because I have no idea about this stuff.”

“I don’t have a clue either,” Sergio said, “but didn’t Monaghan mention something about an external computer? My layman’s mind thinks that maybe it was neither Fox nor Monaghan but someone from the outside. I vaguely remember you telling me how secure this computer system is.”

“And I remember you told me that you have Sontheim under control,” LMI’s president countered. Sergio stared at him angrily: 1-0, Levy.

Nick Kostidis was in a meeting with representatives from the health department when Frank Cohen came in. His usually calm face was strained as he signaled his boss to step outside.

“What’s the matter?” he asked at the door.

“You should take a look at this,” Frank replied. “They’re reporting on TV about the murder of an investment banker. They say that Alex Sontheim shot the man in his office last night.”

“She did what?” Nick asked in disbelief.

“Yes,” Frank nodded, “she’s on the run. The police and FBI are looking for her.”

Nick turned around without saying a word. Frank followed him to his office and turned on the TV.

“Security officers found Zachary St. John, managing director of the investment firm Levy Manhattan Investments, shot dead at his desk,”
a female reporter announced, standing in front of a high-rise on Wall Street. The yellow crime scene tape fluttered in the wind behind her, and several police cars were parked in front of the entrance.

“A police spokesperson disclosed that the head of the mergers and acquisitions department, Alex Sontheim, is the main suspect in St. John’s murder and has disappeared. There are rumors that St. John and Sontheim illegally acquired millions of dollars through insider trading conducted through a front organization. Following yesterday’s failed takeover of Database Inc. by Whithers Computers, which was handled by Sontheim, this front organization is said to be close to bankruptcy. I’m Moira Roberts with NBC News.”

“That can’t be,” Nick murmured in disbelief. “No, she didn’t shoot anyone. I don’t believe it. She wasn’t involved in any illegal business. Otherwise she wouldn’t have—”

He paused and then walked to a small safe behind his desk. He opened it and took out the papers that Alex had given him that evening at Alexis Sorbas. He paged quickly through the statements until he found the one that he was looking for.

“What’s this?” Frank asked curiously.

“Statements from a bank on the Cayman Islands,” Nick replied. “Alex gave them to me a few weeks ago.”

“You never even told me.” Frank threw his boss a hurt look.

“Here,” he said, handing one of the pages to Frank, “Zachary St. John, code name Goldfinger. I’m pretty sure that he was involved in dirty business.”

“What if Alex Sontheim was involved?”

“Then why would she point it out to me?” He handed the whole stack of papers to Frank. “Here, look at all these names. Look—John de Lancie, and over here Paul McIntyre…”

Frank shook his head, reading it out loud.

“I don’t understand this whole thing. Why did she disappear if she’s got nothing to do with the murder?”

Nick took a deep breath. He shrugged his shoulders.

Alex walked briskly up Broadway. Everyone on the street was focused on getting to their destination quickly in this stormy weather, so no one paid attention to the woman wearing a baseball hat and jeans. After what had happened last night, she had no other choice but to leave the city straight away. She had no time to go to her apartment to get clean clothes or her car. If she could get Zack’s e-mails she’d retrieved from his computer to Nick, then he would believe her. It took her about fifteen minutes to walk to city hall; she didn’t dare to hail a cab. She was completely soaked as she crossed Park Row and entered City Hall Park. The feeling of relief made her knees weak. Only a few hundred yards and she would be safe. She turned on the path leading to the main entrance of city hall and had almost reached the steps when a man stepped in her way.

“Excuse me,” he said, and Alex stared at him.

The young man held a map in his hand, “Umm, could you tell me how to get to…”

Alex looked past him. She saw a dark-haired man standing at the door whose face looked familiar. He punched a number into his cell phone and glanced at her inconspicuously.

Shit,
Alex thought.

“…the Empire State Building from here?”

“I can’t help you,” she said. “I’m not from here.”

She looked around and saw a second man heading directly toward her. He walked fast and also held a cell phone to his ear. Before the young tourist’s baffled eyes, Alex turned on her heel and jumped over the rosebushes. The two men dashed after her. As fast as she could, Alex ran across the lawn, wet grass squishing beneath her feet. She could have gone faster on the path, but she didn’t look back. She focused on not slipping or falling down—because then she’d be a goner.

Alex rushed past the Tweed Courthouse toward Foley Square. She didn’t pay any attention to the astonished looks of the few passersby as she raced past the US Court of International Trade. When she glanced over
her shoulder, she saw that her pursuers were closer on her heels than she’d realized. She turned right onto Leonard Street, where, near the corner, a group of Japanese tourists stood in the pouring rain, wearing raincoats and posing for photos. Without slowing down, she cut through the group and bumped into a Japanese man, who lost his balance and fell to the ground. The tourists cursed at her with flailing arms, which forced Alex’s pursuers to sidestep them.

This move cost them valuable seconds while Alex crossed Centre Street. Cars stopped with screeching tires as she ran across the street. Her strength was dwindling, and she was completely out of breath, but she could see Columbus Park ahead of her, barely a block away. Suddenly, a dark car turned in front of her and three men jumped out. Alex felt like a deer in headlights as she looked around. Three men blocked her way with grimly determined faces. The other two pursuers came running up behind her, gasping for air.

“Stop!” one of the three men yelled and spread his arms as if he could really stop her. Right at that moment, a silver Dodge turned from Baxter Street onto Hogan Place as a bicycle messenger sped down the street. He tried to evade the Dodge, but his tire slipped on the wet pavement. The young man fell on the ground, and his bicycle was hurled in front of Alex’s feet. She didn’t hesitate for a second. She grabbed the bike and swung herself onto the seat.

One of the men tried to grab her arm. With the strength of adrenaline triggered by her fear, she kicked him in the balls with all her might. He let go of her arm and yelled out in pain. Alex pedaled through Columbus Park faster than she’d ever ridden a bike before, thinking her lungs might explode any second. After a few minutes, she was at the very center of Chinatown—which was still bustling despite the rain. She ditched the bike on a street corner, vanishing into a maze of alleys between stalls and Chinese restaurants.

“She slipped through our fingers,” Silvio Bacchiocchi reported to his boss, leaning on the Dodge’s fender while grimacing in pain. The other men standing around him were irritated and soaked to the bone. No one laughed about Silvio’s mishap. This woman was infuriating. It was pointless to continue the chase because they couldn’t find someone hiding in Chinatown. The Chinese didn’t like it at all when people were chased through their neighborhood. They sided with anyone on the run, and they would certainly provide protection and shelter for a distraught woman.

“Are you too stupid to catch a woman?” Sergio yelled into the phone. “That’s unbelievable!”

“My guys saw her at city hall. But she ran like the devil, and then she snatched a messenger’s bike and disappeared into Chinatown.”

Silvio omitted the fact that Alex had kicked him in the balls.

“If she’s not standing here in front of me by this afternoon,” Sergio replied, “then I’ll hold you personally responsible,
capito
?”

“Understood.” Silvio hung up the phone.

Sergio closed his eyes for a moment. Alex was a clever bitch. Under different circumstances, he would have admired her for her courage and cleverness—but there was simply too much on the line in this case. Sergio hated her, yet there was also something inside of him that painfully longed for her. There was no question in his mind that she had been the first woman for whom he felt more than mere physical desire. However, she was also the first to betray and lie to him like this. Once he got a hold of her, he would beat her until she begged for mercy. She would bitterly regret the humiliation she had caused him!

“And?” Levy asked when Sergio had put away his cell phone. Sergio turned around quickly.

“And what?”

“Did they get her?”

“No,” Sergio answered grimly. The telephone on Levy’s desk rang.

“What is it?” LMI’s president answered in an irritated voice. “I’m in an important meeting…Excuse me?”

Sergio could hear the agitated voice coming through the receiver. Levy listened silently, finally thanking his caller.

“Who was that?” Sergio asked. Levy, who had been under enormous pressure and was drinking much more than he could handle, looked bleary-eyed at Sergio.

“That was Lester Roman, our manager of strategic partnerships. He noticed a large transaction coming through one of our accounts this morning. Someone electronically requested the liquidation of MPM’s account in the amount of fifty million dollars.”

Sergio stared at him without comprehending. “How can that be? Doesn’t that require the approval of the account holders?”

“Yes, it does,” Levy confirmed, “but it happened. Everything was processed properly. No one thought it was suspicious because our employees routinely process very large transactions. Roman only got suspicious when he saw the name of the account holder during a routine check.”

He paused and wiped the sweat off his forehead with a handkerchief.

“St. John entered the request, and Sontheim must have confirmed it. According to the account list, they were the sole owners of the MPM account and therefore were authorized to move the funds.”

“Where did the money go?” Sergio asked after recovering from the initial shock.