Swimming with Sharks (75 page)

Tate Jenkins entered Connors’s office with a cup of coffee in his hand. The deputy US attorney sat at the conference table with a bleary-eyed expression in front of a stack of files.

“How far are your people with the indictments, Connors?” Jenkins inquired, sitting down.

“They’re working on it,” Lloyd Connors replied and leaned back. “But without Alex Sontheim’s testimony, we have nothing but speculation.”

“That woman doesn’t matter anymore,” Jenkins said. “The material we have is enough to remove half of the city’s political elite. We already have a dozen confessions. What else do you want?”

Connors looked at the deputy director of the FBI, astonished. “I want the people who pull the strings,” he said. “I want the mastermind behind this, not just the small fries.”

“I don’t know whether you can call the police commissioner of New York or the US attorney for the Southern District ‘small fries.’” Jenkins raised his eyebrows. “Get your people moving, Connors. I don’t feel like waiting until Christmas. I want the indictments on my desk by tomorrow.”

“But I can’t possibly go public with this whole thing tomorrow!”

“Why not?” Jenkins took a sip of coffee from his plastic cup. “We have bulletproof evidence; we should pounce before anyone disappears or blows their brains out.”

“I want the mastermind,” Connors persisted, “and in my opinion, that’s Vitali. If it says in the newspaper tomorrow that his bribery scheme was busted, then he’ll cover his tracks. We need Sontheim as a key witness against him.”

“And what if she took off and doesn’t surface again?” Jenkins asked. “How much longer do you want to wait, Connors? Until the whole case goes up in smoke?”

There was an awkward silence before Connors responded.

“But I—”

“Let me tell you something,” Jenkins interrupted him. “Let’s wait another twenty-four hours. We’ll go public if she doesn’t show up by then. I’m getting pressure from above. The president expects something to happen, you understand?”

“Yes, of course,” the deputy US attorney said with a helpless shrug, “but if we don’t get to the root of this, after a brief interruption things will just be the same again.”

“You’ve got twenty-four hours to find the woman,” Jenkins cut him off. “One full day, and not a minute more. Then we’ll step in front of the press.”

Jenkins finished his coffee. Connors turned to his files again. He was dead tired, and not particularly optimistic about the case. If Alex didn’t show up soon, then Vitali would get away again unscathed. Connors thought about Nick, and he slowly understood his frustration. Vitali was slippery as a fish.

Alex scanned the small room. It was daylight behind the dirty curtains. She moved carefully, and sharp pain flashed through her body. She looked at her wrists and saw the blood-encrusted wounds where the restraints had cut deeply into her flesh. And suddenly the memory was there again, and the horror returned in a vicious wave, bitter as bile. She remembered all of the gruesome things that had happened to her. A tear ran down her disfigured face. She had experienced the worst things imaginable to any human being, and during those horrifying hours—where she thought she’d go crazy out of fear—something had irrevocably broken inside of her. To be at someone’s mercy, the futility of being unable to defend herself, had been worse than the pain, even worse than realizing that they were trying to kill her. The wounds and bruises would heal, but what about the trauma? Just a few days ago, she was one of the highest-paid investment bankers on Wall Street, juggling billions of dollars. She knew the most important people in the city, in the entire country. Until recently, she had a bright future ahead of her. Now she had nothing left but her bare bones, and even that wouldn’t be worth much if Sergio found out that she was still alive. He’d do anything to finally finish her off.

Alex curled up beneath her blanket and sobbed. Her life would never be the same again. The spirits that she had called upon herself would haunt her for her whole life. She saw no future; there was no one she could trust. Alex suddenly paused. Yes! There was someone who cared for her, someone who could possibly help her. She lay motionless in her sagging bed, the thin mattress’s springs cutting into her back, and she stared at the dirty ceiling that had turned yellow from the nicotine of thousands of cigarettes. She needed to call Nick. Right now.

“Nick, I can’t wait any longer,” Lloyd Connors said in an emphatic voice. “I know what it means if we make this affair public today, but what the hell am I supposed to do?”

The deputy US attorney was a shadow of his usual self.

“Jenkins gave me an ultimatum, damn it! Time’s running out!” He ran his hand across his exhausted face. He had come to see Nick at city hall to escape the tension in his own office for a while.

“Vitali will slip through our hands again,” Nick muttered in a dull voice, “just as he has so often before. I knew it.”

Connors sighed. In the past hours, he had thought about nothing else except how they could prove Vitali’s involvement in the bribery scandal. But it was almost impossible without Alex Sontheim. Even van Mieren’s video testimony was unlikely to be allowed as evidence in court if there weren’t any other witnesses confirming his statements. And Jenkins forbade him to look for exactly that. “Focus on solving the corruption case,” he had said.

Connors knew that Vitali’s clever lawyers would tear him apart if he charged him without ironclad evidence. This would probably mean the premature end of his career; the other side would bombard him with
actions for libel and other damages until he gave up. If Alex remained missing, then Vitali had managed to save his neck once again.

“I’ve got only one chance to bring him before a court,” Connors said tiredly. “There’s the murder case from 1963, with that Stefano Barelli who van Mieren claims Vitali shot dead. There’s no statute of limitations for murder, and maybe we can find that witness van Mieren mentioned.”

Nick made a resigned gesture.

“I’ve only got eight hours left, Nick,” Connors said, leaning forward. “I’m supposed to step in front of the press and make everything public tomorrow morning.”

The mayor nodded. “I understand.”

“If we at least had a trace of Alex,” Connors said, slamming his fist on the table, “at least a tiny clue, but we’ve got nothing. She simply vanished from the face of the earth.”

Nick remained silent. It had been three days since Vitali got hold of her. He’d certainly killed her, because he knew how important she was to the US Attorney’s Office. She was a threat and had to be eliminated as such.

“We made a big mistake involving the Feds,” Connors said gloomily. “They have no interest in uncovering the whole thing.”

“Of course not,” Nick replied bitterly. “It’s all about cover-up. Damage control. It’s always been like that. No one had any interest in uncovering this bribery scandal. Everyone was afraid to be sucked into the maelstrom. Especially now that the president has major foreign policy issues, he can’t afford these domestic problems. If it got out that the corruption reached as far as federal departments and the Senate, the public response would be explosive.”

“But we can’t just pretend that nothing happened!” Connors was appalled.

“Yes,” Nick said, nodding wearily, “we can. And you will. How many times do you think I felt like I was tilting at windmills? It’s not easy to do
unpopular things, and there’s hardly anything less popular than a bribery scandal. I’ve fished in troubled waters many times, and time and again I had to realize that what felt honest and seemed like the right thing to do was never appreciated by the big bosses. Politics is dirty business. Everyone gives and takes. That’s how politicians and their old-boy networks survive.”

“I refuse to accept that!” the deputy US attorney protested.

“I used to be as idealistic as you are, Lloyd,” Nick said, shrugging his shoulders, “but if you want to have a career, then you have to learn to act against your convictions.”

“Of all people, I can’t believe that you would say something like that!”

“Why not? For years, I’ve fought for what I felt was right, and I’ve made many enemies. It was lucky that I was often fighting things that also bothered politicians in Washington and Albany: organized crime, insider-trading scandals on Wall Street, common criminals in New York City—all of these issues were things that had the government’s support. I was fighting the small guys without a big lobby: Mafia bosses, criminal stock brokers and bankers, murderers, rapists, drug dealers. But this time we’re stepping on the toes of respected politicians.” Nick sighed. “One crow doesn’t peck another crow’s eyes. It’s always been like this.”

Outside the window, snowflakes fluttered from the slate-gray December sky. Nick used to love the weeks before Christmas: the festively decorated city, the shop windows, the snow in Central Park, the eagerly expectant children’s eyes at the huge Christmas parade, and the ice-skaters at Rockefeller Center and at Wollman Rink. Around Christmas, the hectic pace of the city seemed to slacken for a few days every year, and the people seemed a little friendlier than usual. But Nick didn’t notice any of this today. There was no Christmas tree at home, and instead of Mary, members of his staff took care of writing the Christmas
cards this year. For the first time in twenty-five years, Nick wouldn’t spend Christmas with Mary’s family in Montauk.

Nick’s direct line buzzed on his desk. He picked up.

“Mr. Kostidis?” Nick didn’t recognize the female voice on the other end.

“Yes, speaking.”

“Is it really you?”

“Yes, of course. Who am I speaking to?”

“One moment,” the woman said, “stay on the line. There’s someone who wants to talk to you.”

Connors watched Nick’s changing expression. His hopelessness and exhaustion vanished instantly; the mayor immediately sat up.

“Nick?” He heard her voice and he almost died of relief. It was her!

“Alex!” he exclaimed. Connors jerked upright. “Where are you? How are you doing?”

“Nick,” Alex said in a thin voice, “can you come get me?”

“Yes, of course!” Nick exclaimed. “Where are you? Tell me! I’m coming right away!”

“I’m in Brooklyn,” Alex replied, slurring heavily. “It’s a bar called Blue Bayou at the docks near the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway.”

“I’ll find it. I’m leaving right away.” Nick’s whole body trembled.

Alex whispered, “Please hurry.”

Nick jumped out of his chair. He was dizzy with relief and happiness. She wasn’t dead!

“We need to drive to Brooklyn immediately!” The deputy US attorney looked at him with hope, but also suspicion.

“It sounds like a fucking trap to me,” he said. “You won’t go there alone. I’m calling Spooner. I want him to go with you.”

Nick stared at him. In his relief, he didn’t even think about the possibility that someone could have forced Alex to call and lure him into an ambush. If that was the case, then Alex’s life was still in danger.

“Nick, please!” Connors already had the telephone receiver in his hand.

“Let’s bring him then,” Nick agreed reluctantly.

The Blue Bayou turned out to be a sleazy dive bar at the docks. The colorfully lit letters of its neon sign somewhat disguised the seediness of the joint, but it was definitely the place that Alex had told them about.