Nele Neuhaus - Swimming with Sharks

Nick looked at him for quite some time. Then he slowly nodded and lowered his head. He knew that McIntyre was right, but it hurt him nonetheless. His statement was proof that he had accomplished absolutely nothing in regard to corruption over the years. It was a declaration of his political bankruptcy.

“What’s going to become of me now?” McIntyre asked. Connors repeated the words he had spoken to many men over the past few days. He also handed him a prepared admission of guilt, and just like all the men before him, Paul McIntyre also signed.

“You’re going to act completely normally toward Vitali and your staff,” Connors said. “Of course, you’re also attending Vitali’s gala just as if nothing had happened. We want to avoid raising his suspicions too soon. Should you choose to warn him, then your prospects will look bad. Corruption in office, acceptance of bribes by a public official, falsification of building and planning applications, price-fixing—all over an extended period of time—this means that you’re going to breathe filtered air for the rest of your life on top of the IRS coming after you for tax evasion and tax fraud.”

“I’ll do exactly as you say,” McIntyre quickly reassured him. “I promise you that.”

“That’s certainly the smartest thing you can do.”

McIntyre threw a glance at Nick, who was staring out the window with a blank expression.

“Nick,” McIntyre said quietly to his boss, “I’m truly sorry.”

Then, with hanging shoulders and clumsy steps, he walked out the door. The three men sat at the table in silence until someone else knocked on the door and Frank entered the room.

“What’s up?” Nick asked tiredly.

“There’s a woman who’d like to talk to you,” Frank said. “She’s been waiting for over an hour.”

“Did she tell you her name or what she wants?”

“No.”

Connors and Shepard collected their documents.

“Tell her I only have ten minutes,” Nick said, thinking a minute and walking to his desk. Frank returned, accompanied by a small, pear-shaped woman of about fifty. She wore a simple black dress, a pearl necklace, and a black headscarf. Her gray hair was cut fashionably short. Sorrow and tension were visible in her face, but fierce vengeance sparkled in her big brown eyes. She gripped the handle of her large crocodile-skin bag with both hands. She looked at the two US attorneys with uncertainty.

“Good afternoon.” Nick’s smile was somewhat forced as he extended his hand. Time and again someone managed to get through to his office, and then he had to listen to problems ranging from a lost job or marital troubles to neighbors’ disputes.

“How can I help you?” he asked. The woman glanced again at Connors and Shepard.

“These gentlemen are from the US Attorney’s Office,” Nick explained politely, “but they were just about to leave.”

“No, no,” the woman replied, “they should stay. What I have to say will also interest them.”

The three men looked at the woman in surprise. She opened her bag, pulled out ten videotapes, and placed them on Nick’s desk. Lloyd Connors curiously moved close.

“What’s that?” he asked. The woman looked into his eyes and then straightened her shoulders with determination.

“My name is Constanzia Vitali. And I’d like to testify against my husband.”

Monaghan and his men were patiently awaiting Justin Savier’s return in his apartment. He stayed out all night. The telephone rang repeatedly, but when the answering machine switched on the person on the other end hung up.

Someone unlocked the front door at two thirty the following afternoon. Justin Savier kicked the door shut with his heel and dropped his jacket on the floor. All he longed for right now was his bed. The plane from Georgetown had landed two hours ago in Newark, and then he’d been flown to Boston in a helicopter. Alex was right, and thankfully the US attorneys also believed their story. The evidence he had uncovered on the Levy & Villiers computers was truly powerful.

Justin yawned and pulled his sweater over his head, and then he suddenly felt something hard press into his back. He froze.

“Hello, Mr. Savier,” someone said behind him.

“He…hello,” Justin stuttered. “W… who are you, and what are you doing in my apartment?”

“We’ve been waiting for you,” Henry Monaghan replied, and Justin turned around quickly. He stared at the heavyset man with the walrus moustache.

“Who are you?” he repeated his question.

“That’s irrelevant.” Monaghan raised himself with surprising agility for such a fat man.

“How dare you break into my apartment?” Without a doubt, these were the people Alex was fleeing from.

“Funny you should put it that way,” Monaghan said with the last remnants of friendliness remaining in him after waiting for nineteen hours. “We suspect that you illegally broke into the central computer of a New York investment firm.”

Justin swallowed nervously.

“What makes you think that?”

“You worked on the security testing for BankManager 5.3,” Monaghan said casually, “and when your old buddy Mark Ashton asked you for help with a small computer problem, you complied.”

“I don’t know any Mark.”

“Really? That’s strange, because you went to Harvard together. I’ve seen the pictures of you two in your photo albums.”

Monaghan tried hard to stay calm and friendly. He would have loved to grab this guy who’d made a fool out of him and beat him to a pulp.

“Listen, Savier, I don’t have time for silly question-and-answer games. I want to know what—”

The telephone rang, and Monaghan fell silent. He detected panic flaring up in Savier’s eyes.

“Answer it!” he ordered, and since Justin showed no intention of doing so, he grabbed the revolver from his colleague Joey’s hand and pressed it to Savier’s temple. Justin turned an even paler shade of white. He picked up the receiver with shaking fingers. Monaghan pressed the speakerphone button with his left hand, and a hot wave of triumph flowed though him as he heard Alex Sontheim’s voice.

“Justin, thank God! Where have you been for so long? I’ve tried to reach you countless times!”

Monaghan grinned. Vitali would be delighted by his next call. His people were certainly already closing in on Sontheim in Zurich.

“I’ve taken care of everything in Zurich,” Alex said. “I’ll go to—”

“Alex!” Justin interrupted her, but Monaghan pressed the barrel of the revolver more firmly to his temple and looked at him threateningly.

“Yes?”

“I…”

“Did you hear anything from Mark or Oliver?”

“No,” Justin said, closing his eyes, “I had a lot of work to do.”

“Ask her where she is!” Monaghan hissed.

“Justin?” Alex asked with sudden suspicion. “Is there someone with you? You sound so strange.”

“No, no. I think I’m getting a cold. A bad virus is going around.”

“Oh. I see. Get well soon…”

The dial tone sounded, and Monaghan understood what Justin had done.

“A virus is going around, huh?” he snorted angrily and dealt Justin a ferocious blow with the revolver’s grip. “You think you’re so clever, warning her, huh?”

“Listen!” Justin raised his hands imploringly. “I participated, but I don’t know to this day what this is all about. I’ve got no clue.”

“I don’t believe a word you’re saying.” Monaghan signaled his guys, and they grabbed Justin from the left and right.

“We’re going on a little excursion,” Monaghan said, “and you should come with us without a fuss. Otherwise, I’ll put a neat little hole in the back of your head and you won’t see your dear Alex or your friend Mark ever again.”