Nele Neuhaus - Swimming with Sharks

“We’re not just looking for Alex Sontheim because of Mr. St. John’s murder,” he stated calmly. “We expect her to testify with regard to a large-scale corruption scandal.”

“A corruption scandal?”

Harding may have seemed surprised to anyone else, but Connors detected a flicker of terror in the police commissioner’s eyes.

“We have evidence,” he continued, “that high-ranking officials of this city have regularly received large sums of money in exchange for certain favors. We have procured comprehensive evidence that includes names, amounts, and bank account numbers in the Cayman Islands, the Bahamas, and in Switzerland. Even if only a fraction of this turns out to be true, then this is certainly one of the largest bribery cases in the history of New York City, if not the United States.”

Jerome Harding’s face flashed red and pale in turns, but he didn’t collapse like the other men to whom Connors had given this speech in the past few days. Nick was right when he said that Harding would be a hard nut to crack. The police commissioner wasn’t intimidated that easily, and the fact that he had never withdrawn any money from the account in his name at Levy & Villiers made it unclear whether a corruption charge even applied to him.

“Unbelievable!” Harding managed to appear indignant. “Why am I just now hearing about this?”

Jenkins leaned forward. His pale eyes were as cold as a fish’s.

“Because your name appears in our documents, Jerome.”

“Excuse me?” The police commissioner turned around quickly. The incredulous expression on his face would have seemed real if not for the sheer fear in his eyes.

“That’s a disgraceful accusation!” Harding was outraged. “And from whom—if I may ask—did I accept this money?”

“We’d like to know that,” Jenkins replied with a friendly smile. He crossed his legs and folded his arms across his chest. There was complete silence, and only the muted noise of ringing telephones and hectic conversation could be heard from outside. Then Harding pushed back his chair with a jerk and stood up.

“This,” he said in a threatening, quiet voice, “is a truly incredible allegation! I’ve never ever accepted money from anyone! I’ve been the police commissioner of this city for almost eleven years now. I’ve succeeded in making New York a safer place during my time in office. I despise criminals of any kind, no matter if they are white collar or dealing crack in the subway! I have an impeccable reputation far beyond this city. I won’t let you depict me in public as someone who accepts bribes!”

He yelled out the last words, and his angry face was bright red. Jenkins listened to him with an impassive expression.

“So?” Harding put his arms on his hips and looked at the men in a challenging pose. “From whom did I supposedly accept money?”

Connors couldn’t help but admire Harding’s grit, and for a second he had doubts about his involvement in this affair.

“From Sergio Vitali,” someone said.

Harding turned around abruptly.

“Oh, Vitali again,” he said disdainfully and threw Nick a hostile look. “The ghost that has been haunting your sick brain for the last twenty years, Kostidis.”

“No,” Nick said, shaking his head, “it’s not a ghost. Definitely not. You know that as well as I do, Jerome.”

“I don’t know anything.”

“Really?” Nick stood up and walked around the table.

His face was extremely pale.

“In that case, you have a short memory. I still vividly remember our conversation in my office the morning after Cesare Vitali was arrested and murdered.”

“He hung himself,” Harding interrupted him harshly.

“No, he didn’t,” Nick replied. “His own father sent someone to the Forty-First Precinct who gave thousands of dollars to a police officer to make sure Cesare Vitali was murdered. It was supposed to look like suicide.”

“You must be—” Harding started to say, but Nick continued undeterred.

“You were angry because I drew a connection between the shots fired at Vitali and the Colombian drug cartel and explained it to the press. I couldn’t understand why you were so mad that day, but then it dawned on me: Vitali had not only lured de Lancie to his side, but also you—a fearless fighter against crime. I told you that right to your face. Do you remember now?”

The police commissioner stared at him angrily, but remained silent.

“For years you have turned a blind eye to Vitali and his henchmen. In exchange for that, Vitali filled your account in the Caymans. You were far too smart to touch the money, but you knew the exact balance. A nice addition to your retirement, wasn’t it?”

“I never liked you, Kostidis,” Harding whispered. “You’re a self-righteous fanatic, a…a…damn it, stop staring at me like that!”

Nick was unmoved, but it almost made him sad to look at Harding.

“You were the biggest disappointment of them all,” Nick whispered. “I couldn’t believe it. I would have put both of my hands in the fire for you, Jerome.”

Harding bit his lip and lowered his head.

“What do you have to say about these allegations?” Jenkins asked.

“I won’t say anything without my lawyer!” the police commissioner snapped. “And if you’ll excuse me now, I’ve got work to do.”

Connors rummaged in his briefcase and pulled out a piece of paper. “I have an arrest warrant for you, Mr. Harding. You are under arrest for corruption, obstruction of justice, failure to report planned crimes, providing preferential treatment, and multiple counts of coercion.”

“Kiss my ass, you punk.” Harding laughed disdainfully. “I’ll wipe my ass with your arrest warrant!”

“If you say so.” Connors remained calm. “In that case, we can add resisting arrest to the list.”

He walked across the room and opened the door to signal the two US marshals waiting outside.

“Mr. Harding?” one of the deputies said as he pulled out the handcuffs. “Come with me, please. You have the right to remain silent—”

“I know my rights!” Harding snapped at the man and turned toward Jenkins, Connors, and Engels. “You’ll live to regret this! My lawyer will tear you apart—all of you and your ridiculous arrest warrant! There’s going to be a hefty claim for damages!”

“I hope you can afford a good lawyer now that your foreign assets have been seized by the IRS.” Connors smiled coolly. “I’m afraid that you’ll also be prosecuted for tax evasion.”

Harding’s eyes narrowed as the handcuffs clicked shut.

Connors nodded. “Take him out through the basement. I don’t want his arrest to be public. He’s not allowed to make a phone call until further notice.”

While the others discussed the next course of the operation, Nick once again lapsed into a state of dull brooding. He wanted to drive around the city with the police and personally search the warehouses, docks, and known gangster hangouts on the Lower East Side and in Little Italy. But instead, he sat in this office, extremely tense, as he waited for the sparse updates coming in. Unfortunately, all the leads that had looked so promising had come to nothing so far. Two staff members at the Portland Square Hotel remembered some men hanging around in the hallways, but the descriptions were so contradictory that the police artist gave up after a few minutes in complete exasperation.

Nick bitterly reproached himself for not being on the alert for possible pursuers as he rushed to Alex. He couldn’t rid himself of the gnawing thought that he was the one who’d put Vitali on Alex’s trail. Why hadn’t he listened to his instincts and convinced her to come with him? If he had insisted, she would be safe now. Nick buried his face in his hands. Seeing the bloodstains all over the hotel room had triggered the same terrible feeling as the moment when the car exploded with Mary and Christopher in it.