Swimming with Sharks (62 page)

“Before I take concrete action,” Jenkins added, “I still need to talk to Mr. Horner. I can’t move ahead with a case this huge without his approval.”

Nick and Connors exchanged a glance. Engels and Jenkins seemed to be anything but delighted about the prospect of uncovering such a huge corruption scandal.

“In my opinion, it’s imperative to act with urgency.” Connors sat down. “Vitali hasn’t just bribed these people. We have the written testimony of a man who did the dirty work for him. This man was shot last Thursday night. The lawyer who recorded his statement was killed two days ago. If Vitali gets wind of the fact that we’re on his heels, he’ll cover up his tracks and more people may die.”

“What was the name of the man who was shot?” Gordon Engels inquired.

“His name was Zachary St. John.”

“Oh,” Jenkins said, raising his eyebrows, “the investment banker who was killed by his accomplice?”

“He wasn’t killed by Alex Sontheim, but by Vitali’s people,” Connors replied, hardly suppressing his impatience. “Alex Sontheim is a threat to Vitali. That’s why he’s trying to put the blame on her for this murder.”

“Do you have any evidence, Connors?”

Jenkins leaned back. The deputy US attorney threw him a quick glance.

“Nick,” he said, “could you please explain this?”

Nick cleared his throat and sat up straight. He hadn’t said a word yet, but he observed the reactions of Engels and Jenkins closely. Jenkins was hard to read, just like most FBI people. His face remained emotionless. Nick knew he needed to convince Jenkins how dangerous Vitali was. Briefly, he explained why he seriously doubted that Alex Sontheim had committed St. John’s murder. He repeated in summary what Justin Savier had told him the night before, and he finally voiced his suspicion that Vitali had been shot by Colombian drug dealers in July of last year.

“How do you know all of this, Nick?” Engels asked in astonishment.

“I’ve been dealing with Vitali for many years now,” Nick replied, “and prosecuted him myself at least a dozen times for various crimes. He managed to squirm free every time. I know him. I know his methods. I know his business. In July, I was sure that I would finally get my hands on Vitali. The same night that someone shot at him, his son was arrested during an illegal raid to clear out a building in the Bronx. As soon as I heard about it, I went to the precinct and—to my surprise—Mr. de Lancie was already there, even though everyone knows he prefers office work. He acted strangely for a US attorney, and I asked him which side of the law he was on. Cesare Vitali was then found hanged in his cell. The next day, a mysterious terrorist appeared and threatened to contaminate groceries with anthrax spores. On top of that, the man who allegedly shot Vitali turned himself in to the police and immediately made a confession. Both of these stories pushed the shots fired at Vitali from the headlines. It was a classic red herring, and it almost would have worked if I hadn’t voiced my suspicions publicly. I was so sure of myself, but my excitement caused me to disregard how ruthless and dangerous this man can be when threatened.”

Nick paused for a moment and then continued in a quiet voice.

“I personally had to learn through painful experience how close I had come to the truth.”

“No charges were brought against Vitali,” Engels interjected. “How can you be so sure that he was behind the bombing?”

“One of my closest employees was also on Vitali’s payroll.” Nick shrugged his shoulders. “Raymond Howard informed him about everything. He also died in the bombing.”

“But—” Jenkins started to speak, but Frank Cohen interrupted. He couldn’t take his boss’s agonized expression.

“Howard personally told me who was behind the bombing. Just before he died, he told me that Vitali ordered the assassination.”

“What exactly did he say?” Jenkins asked.

Frank took a deep breath, haunted by the memory. “He said that Vitali wanted to kill Nick.”

Everyone sitting around the conference table was stunned.

“Why didn’t you tell me before, Nick?” Connors asked.

“Because it wouldn’t have brought my family back to life,” the mayor replied. “When Frank told me about it, Ray was long dead. There were no witnesses. I didn’t have the strength to endure such an investigation.”

“Did Ms. Sontheim know about this?”

“No,” Nick said, shaking his head, “I don’t think so.”

“Why did she come to you, of all people, with this information?”

Nick didn’t answer right away. He remembered the morning at the beach in Montauk and the sight of the young woman with her blonde hair flowing in the wind.

“Nick?” Gordon Engels asked, and Nick noticed that everyone was staring at him.

“I met Ms. Sontheim through mutual friends,” he said. “She apparently trusted me because she knew that I’m an avowed opponent of Vitali.”

“When did you hear about the secret accounts?” Jenkins asked.

“On the day when Ms. Sontheim came to me at the monastery,” Nick replied. “She recognized the man who shot at me, and that had apparently finally convinced her that Vitali is a criminal.”

“Why didn’t you tell the US Attorney’s Office or the FBI earlier?”

“Mr. Jenkins,” Nick said and leaned forward, “I’ve told you already. I’ve been observing Sergio Vitali for fifteen years. I know who he is, what he’s capable of. During my time as the US attorney of this district, I witnessed bulletproof charges dropped many times because key witnesses suddenly lost their memory or disappeared. Vitali is the godfather of New York City—the last
capo di tutti capi
—and he’s more powerful than any Mafia boss before him. I didn’t want to put Ms. Sontheim’s life at risk.”

“And why did you change your mind now?”

Nick sighed. What was all this? Why was Jenkins acting like he was cross-examining a defendant?

“In my opinion, Ms. Sontheim is incorrectly under suspicion of murder,” he said in a firm voice, “and this is a diversionary tactic, just like the anthrax terrorist was.”

“Why do you believe that?” Jenkins was proving to be extraordinarily suspicious.

“Vitali and Levy owned a front organization called MPM, through which they operated a large-scale insider trading scheme with the help of Mr. St. John. The proceeds from these illegal transactions were funneled to secret accounts in the Caymans and the Bahamas. Ms. Sontheim provided us with the necessary information.”

Jenkins interrupted him. “So she—”

“If you could let me finish please,” Nick replied harshly. They briefly measured each other with cold looks. Jenkins frowned and signaled for him to continue. Nick recounted the instructions that Alex had received from the board of directors to inform them about every detail of her work. He mentioned the discovery that SeaStarFriends was the owner of MPM, and the busted takeover deal of Database by Whithers Computers.

“Ms. Sontheim found out that the owners of MPM were changed the very same night that St. John was murdered. Vitali and Levy decided to sacrifice their accomplice St. John in order to save their own skins.”

“But this is mere speculation!”

“I’m in possession of a commercial registry certificate dated April 14, 2000. At that time, Venture Capital SeaStarFriends LP was the sole owner of MPM. Another commercial registry certificate from the British Virgin Islands confirms that Mr. Vincent Levy and Mr. Sergio Vitali were the owners of this offshore company. According to electronic records, Mr. Zachary St. John and Ms. Alexandra Sontheim have been the registered owners for four days now.”

He paused and took a gulp of water.

“I’m pretty sure that St. John was shot because he refused to be sacrificed. Maybe he threatened to blow everything up. Just the fact that he prepared a complete written testimony proves that he was unsure about his boss’s loyalty. By blaming the murder on Ms. Sontheim, Vitali killed two birds with one stone. As a murder suspect, she’s hardly a credible witness, and while the press jumped on this murder, no one noticed how quickly the investigation of MPM’s bankruptcy fizzled out thanks to Vitali’s connections at the SEC. That’s pretty clever, isn’t it?”

“If there’s a case here,” Jenkins noted coolly, “it constitutes a criminal offense, as a conscious and willful deceit of the FBI and the US Attorney’s Office.”

“Yes. That’s exactly what it is, in my opinion,” Nick affirmed.

“But the police commissioner himself involved the FBI in the investigation.”

“Harding is also on Vitali’s payroll,” Connors reminded him. “It’s also in his interest that these bribes don’t become public.”

“Nick, do you know where Ms. Sontheim is at the moment?” Engels interjected.

“Unfortunately, I don’t.” Nick shook his head. “I only know that Vitali has a lot of people searching for her. She won’t live much longer if he manages to get his hands on her.”

Everyone in the room fell silent. They needed some time to process the facts.

“If we keep ignoring the corruption in this city, then Vitali will continue his operations,” Nick said emphatically. “We need to blow this scandal up. The public’s reaction is completely secondary.”

“I’d still like to check your witness’s credibility before I take further action,” Jenkins insisted.

“I don’t know where she is,” Nick replied in a harsh tone. “I don’t even know whether she’ll appear again. The only thing I know is that Vitali spends every minute we waste doing nothing covering his tracks further.”

“The evidence that we have against him is sufficient,” Connors said. “Once we confront these people with our suspicion of corruption, they’ll certainly provide the evidence we need to nail Vitali.”

All eyes were resting expectantly on the deputy director of the FBI, who finally stood up.

“I need to call Mr. Horner,” he said and walked over to Nick’s desk. Nick and Connors looked at each other. If the FBI didn’t cooperate or if it even hindered their work, they had little chance of success, even if the Department of Justice, as represented by Attorney General Engels, was on their side. Vitali would find out they were after him and he’d slip away again. Their advantage was that he didn’t know yet that a storm was brewing over him. They needed to act quickly. They had already wasted too much time.

“Mr. Kostidis,” Jenkins said after being on the telephone for a while, “Mr. Horner wants to talk to you.”

Nick took the phone. He repeated a short version of the story to the director of the FBI, who then asked him to pass the phone back to Jenkins. Nick felt his heart beating. He remembered this feeling from the courtroom, when he had presented his closing arguments and sat waiting for the jury’s decision. Just as he had with the many criminal court proceedings he’d worked on as an attorney, he had done everything he could. The final decision was out of his hands. Nick walked over to his chair, sat down, and closed his eyes. It was dead silent in the room except for Jenkins’s muted voice. As the deputy director of the FBI finished his call and put the receiver on the handle, Nick looked
over at him. He instantly knew what decision he had made. The relief made him tremble inside. Horner had given his okay. The FBI would support them in their operation to take down Sergio Vitali. His years of experience had taught Nick how to read people’s decisions in their faces.

“Mr. Horner will speak to the president,” Jenkins announced, “but he ordered us to take every necessary step to investigate this matter. He emphasized that we need to proceed as discreetly as possible, without any major press exposure.”

Connors could hardly suppress his triumphant grin.

“Mr. Connors,” Jenkins continued, “pay a visit to Mr. de Lancie today and tell him that he is suspended from his duties until further notice.”

Connors nodded.

“What’s the scope of the cooperation?” Engels inquired.

“Mr. Connors will lead the investigation,” Jenkins said. “Gordon, give him your best people. Increase your efforts to find Ms. Sontheim.”

“What about the arrest warrant?” Nick asked. He had hoped that they would repeal the warrant immediately.

“I’m not convinced of her innocence yet,” Jenkins replied curtly. “The arrest warrant won’t be repealed until we know for certain that she wasn’t involved in this man’s murder. If she should contact you, Mr. Kostidis, tell her that her presence is extremely important, and that we’ll take care of her protection.”

“She won’t return as long as she’s wanted for murder,” Nick replied.

“She’d better come back,” Jenkins said, looking at Nick coolly, “because I want to talk to her.”

Nick shrugged his shoulders. Then he threw a quick glance at his watch and stood up.

“If you’ll excuse me now,” he said, “I still have a few official events to attend.”

While Nick drove to Rockefeller Center, trying to hide his anxiety, Lloyd Connors headed to Greenwich, Connecticut, with the two US marshals, Spooner and Khazaeli. The three men walked through the accumulating snow toward the large, white house. The house, with its wraparound porch, was surrounded by magnificent old trees and had an extensive lawn. Connors briefly wondered why no one else had become suspicious long ago. There was no way that de Lancie could afford a house like this on his salary. John de Lancie opened the front door himself, and he turned pale when he saw Connors accompanied by two men.