Nele Neuhaus - Swimming with Sharks

The phone card was almost used up, but she had made a decision. If she hurried, she could be in Frankfurt in three hours and—with some luck—in New York City about eight hours later. Then she would call Sergio to propose a deal.

“I’ll call you again,” she told Nick.

“Please be careful, Alex.” Nick’s voice was strained with worry. And then he added something that deeply touched Alex, despite her fear and worries.

“I’m thinking of you day and night, Alex,” he said softly. “I wouldn’t be able to handle it if something happened to you…”

The credit on the phone card was used up. Alex stared blankly through the fogged-up window. Her heart pounded wildly. I’m thinking of you day and night. Good Lord, she was doing the same!

Sergio Vitali sat at his desk at the VITAL Building. He stared at a brief newspaper obituary stating that renowned criminal defense lawyer Nelson van Mieren had succumbed to severe injuries last night. It hit Sergio like a punch to the stomach: of all people, his closest friend and long-time brother-in-arms had turned his back on him. Nelson had blown his brains out late Sunday afternoon. In reality, he’d never intended to work with him again. His promise to return to the office was just a scam. And now he was dead.

Sergio felt a wild, hot rage come over him. He took Nelson’s decision as a personal insult, and it angered him so much that he couldn’t grieve over the loss of his most important colleague and friend. Sergio crumpled the newspaper impulsively and threw it into the wastebasket. Nelson was sick anyway, and Sergio had already looked around for a suitable replacement—and found one. Although no one would ever have such comprehensive knowledge of his business as Nelson, Dennis Bruyner was an ace in his field. He was one of the best and smartest criminal defense lawyers in the United States—ambitious, sharp-witted, and completely unscrupulous. In his career so far, Bruyner had won dozens of cases that at first seemed completely hopeless, and he certainly didn’t mind helping murderers and rapists retain their freedom. Sergio didn’t need Nelson anymore, and if he preferred to die, so be it. No one lived forever. Furthermore, Nelson had been far too hesitant and scared recently.

Sergio turned toward the window with a grim expression and looked at the skyline. He had weathered worse storms, and he always emerged from them unscathed, and even stronger. Things would settle down again this time. Although MPM was lost, as well as his trust in Vincent Levy, there would be new opportunities for Sergio to secure his influence in the city. The men who were obligated to him wouldn’t admit to anything—Sergio was certain about that. It didn’t matter whether Kostidis had those bank statements, if there were actually copies of them. John de Lancie, for one, would never endanger his own future. He was ambitious and solely viewed his job as a US attorney of New York as a stepping-stone to Washington DC. Jerome Harding was eyeing the position of deputy secretary of state, and he had a good chance at it; Governor Rhodes also wanted to move up the ladder. No, these men would remain silent. And if they didn’t, it would be no big deal because there was no evidence connecting him to the Grand Cayman accounts.

His face turned sullen. Alex was still the main problem, although she was severely discredited by the murder allegations. But she was smart and had nothing to lose. As long as she was on the run, she was dangerous. In Switzerland, she had just slipped through his net, and now Monaghan claimed that she was headed back to the city. Sergio had ordered observation of all three airports as well as Penn Station, Grand Central Station, and the Port Authority bus terminal. Thanks to Monaghan, if she appeared in a public place, his men would nab her.

“This is absolutely crazy.” Lloyd Connors grinned in excitement as Nick entered his office. The control center had been moved to the US Attorney’s Office after de Lancie had called in sick. “Van Mieren gave twelve hours of testimony. Come here, Nick. Look at this!” The TV and VCR were centered on a large table.

“Check this out!” he exclaimed.

Nelson van Mieren’s face appeared on the screen. Nick could see that this man he had countered in the courtroom so many times over the years was very sick. His condition had rapidly deteriorated since their encounter at the Forty-First Precinct last summer. Over the next fifteen minutes, Nick and Connors listened attentively to van Mieren’s precise statements about the contract award for the construction of the World Financial Center. He spoke the names of the people involved in the scandal, never before uncovered due to Zuckerman’s death. He confessed how much money had been exchanged and described Vitali’s pitiless extortion methods.

“Unbelievable.” Nick shook his head.

“You were right all along,” Connors replied, “and we thought you were just obsessed. I’m sincerely sorry.”

Nick waved his hand. It was far too late. Zuckerman was dead, and the complex deals were water under the bridge now. Of course, they could confront Vitali with it, but any mediocre lawyer could get him off. Some of the crimes already exceeded the statute of limitations, and a video testimony might not be enough for a conviction in court.

“We’re in a position now to ask Vitali entirely different questions.”

His eyes sparkled with the excitement of a predator spotting its prey at a close range.

Nick sighed. “I knew all of this before. But no one wanted to hear it.”

“You had just a hunch,” Connors corrected him. “Now we have evidence.”

“That’s great. But…” Nick fell silent.

“But? But what?” Connors stared at him. “I thought you would be happy!”

“Lloyd,” Nick said, sounding agonized, “I’ve spent years of my life hunting this guy. I know I was ridiculed behind my back, and that now the same people who laughed at me are having this served to them on a silver platter. Please don’t take offense if I can’t quite share your excitement. This man has destroyed my life. He killed my wife and son. He stole my time from me, time that I could have spent with Mary and Chris.”

Connors looked at Nick in consternation.

“We’re going to stop Vitali. We’ll bring him to justice for everything he’s done.”

For a moment, Nick felt envious of the young man’s optimism and enthusiasm, his firm conviction that he would accomplish his task. He had been like Lloyd Connors once, but it seemed like an eternity had passed since then. Nick sighed again. He felt so tired, so incredibly tired. He’d lost his sense of élan and power. Vitali had robbed him of his convictions, of his faith in law and order.

“I wish…” he started and stood up. “I really wish you all luck.”

“It will be your success, Nick,” Connors said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You made this happen.”

“No,” Nick said, shaking his head, “this is none of my business anymore.”

“But you must be satisfied if…”

“Satisfied?” Nick looked at the young man pensively. “No. I don’t feel anything. There’s just emptiness. What good is it to me if Vitali is sentenced? It won’t bring anyone back to life.”

“Before granting immunity to Alex Sontheim, I want to talk to her.”

Tate Jenkins’s voice squawked through the telephone’s speaker. Nick and Lloyd Connors exchanged a brief glance.

“Mr. Jenkins,” Nick said with growing impatience, “she called me yesterday morning. She won’t return as long as she has reason to fear being arrested and charged with murder.”