Nele Neuhaus - Swimming with Sharks

“What do you think, Nick?” Connors asked, and Nick jerked up.

“W…what? About what?”

Lloyd Connors looked at the mayor with concern. He had a feeling that for Nick, there was more to this than uncovering a bribery scandal. Connors noticed the dark circles around Nick’s eyes. He would have loved to say something encouraging to him, but there was unfortunately nothing to say. If the woman was actually in Vitali’s clutches, then the odds were definitely against her.

Alex regained consciousness, but she had completely lost any sense of time and space. The hard mattress she was lying on smelled old and musty. She tried to open her eyes, but the men had blindfolded her. Her head buzzed from Sergio’s blows, and her mouth was dry as a bone from the ether that they had used to knock her out. Her bound hands and feet were numb. The memory of what had transpired suddenly rushed back.

“Totally tame, the little wildcat,” a man behind her said in Italian, and Alex barely dared to breathe.

“I’ve never banged such a fine lady before,” she heard a second man say. “The boss said we can do whatever we want, didn’t he?”

Alex swallowed frantically, and her body stiffened in fear. She couldn’t expect any sympathy, especially after hitting one of the guys over the head with a bottle. But maybe they would leave her alone if they thought she was unconscious.

“We could have a little fun with her, right?”

“Why not? The boss won’t be back for a few hours.”

While the men talked to each other in hushed tones, Alex realized the utter hopelessness of her situation. No one knew where she was, and her arms and legs were bound. Why hadn’t she listened to Nick this morning and gone with him? Her thoughts were racing, but there was no possibility of escape. She was completely and utterly at Sergio’s mercy.

“Let’s go,” one of the men said. “I have to take a leak. And then we’ll get the others. I’m sure they want to have some fun, too.”

They moved away. A door opened and closed again with a faint squeak. The room had to be quite large. It smelled damp and unused, like an old basement.

“Hello?” Alex whispered hoarsely after a while, but no one answered. Apparently, both of her guards had left the room. As she moved her hands and feet, the numbness turned to a painful prickle.

She managed to sit up and lean against a tiled wall. She rubbed her head against her shoulders, rotating her arms until the duct tape around them slowly loosened. With her fingernails, she worked on the tape around her ankles. Sweat streamed from her pores from the exertion, and her heart pounded. The men could return at any moment, and then her efforts would be in vain.

Her blindfold loosened and she finally caught a glimpse of the room where she was being held. The room was completely empty, and there were circular tracks on the ceiling. It looked like a slaughterhouse, which meant that she was likely in Manhattan’s Meatpacking District in Chelsea, between Ninth and Eleventh Avenues. She ripped the tape from her feet and stood up. Dizzy, she forced herself to walk across the room to a metal shelf. She ripped the tape around her wrists on a sharp edge, not caring whether she might cut herself.

Alex frantically looked for an escape route. She could reach the frosted glass skylights if the decrepit metal shelf would hold her weight. She had to at least give it a try. She climbed up the wobbly shelf as fast as she could. She could reach the edge of the window with her fingertips. Desperately, she shook the rusty window lever, and it moved a fraction of an inch at a time. Suddenly, the skylight popped open. Alex wanted to jump for joy.

At that moment, the door opened at the other end of the large room. The men knew immediately what was going on, and they hollered wildly at each other and ran toward her. Alex gripped the window ledge, mustered all of her strength, and pulled herself up. She kicked the shelf with her foot, and it came crashing down. Panting from exertion, she hurled her body through the open skylight and dangled outside. The drop on the other side was about twelve feet, but she didn’t care. She kept slipping, let her feet slide down the wall, closed her eyes, and let go.

“The cops are searching the entire city,” Luca said to his boss. “They’re arresting anyone they don’t like. I bet that every single prison cell within a radius of a hundred miles will be triple-booked by the end of the night.”

“Hmm,” Sergio said, glancing at his watch, “maybe we should get it over with now.”

He wasn’t particularly alarmed by the intense police response, because Jerome Harding had reassured him during brunch just a few hours ago that the investigation had nothing to do with him, that it was solely about solving the St. John murder. Harding promised to call him immediately if he found out something different. Sergio knew that he could rely on Harding. And the cops could search as much as they liked, because in three hours Alex would be dead.

“How’s Maurizio doing?” Sergio inquired as they drove toward Chelsea.

“I had him taken to Sutton,” Luca answered. “That crazed woman nearly smashed in his skull.”

Sergio nodded grimly. Despite his anger at Alex, he felt a hint of admiration. This woman was truly courageous, an almost equal opponent. But after spending seven hours tied up and gagged in the cold storage room of an old meat factory, she’d get the picture that he always won, and that she had no chance against him.

While they were stuck in traffic, Sergio toyed with the idea of leaking a story to the press that the honorable mayor had banged a wanted murderer last night. As great as that sounded, he needed to wait until Alex’s body was floating in the East River. Then he could focus on finishing off the mayor.

Sergio grinned bitterly. No one had drawn a line from MPM and LMI to him. And once Alex was gone, there’d be no one left who could. The storm would die down, and he would remain quiet until then. The preparations for his charity ball in a few days were in full swing. Not one person had sent regrets, which was a good sign. If the cops had already grilled any of his friends, there would have been mass cancellations long ago. New Yorkers were the quickest to notice when someone should be shunned in high society.

“A tempest in a teapot,” Sergio muttered and shrugged his shoulders. It wasn’t anything more than that.

Alex felt like the fall had broken every single bone in her body. Unable to move, she lay flat on her back, gasping for air. Tears of anger soaked her face as she heard hurried steps. She was surrounded by a half dozen angry-looking men who pulled her up roughly and dragged her back into the building. Despite her pain and fear, she kicked at them, bit the hand of one, and wriggled like a fish. Her attempt to escape made Sergio’s men even angrier. Her situation had worsened significantly.

Alex fought against the terror and weakness with all her might. Things couldn’t get worse. She was determined not to collapse in front of Sergio, begging for mercy. When she heard his voice, she closed her eyes.

“The bitch ran away from us,” one man said. “We had to use a bit more force with her. I’m sorry, boss.”

“Put her on her feet,” Sergio said coldly. “I want to look her in the eyes. And then leave us alone.”

They roughly pulled Alex up. She stumbled and leaned against the wall, suppressing a groan.

“Look at me,” Sergio ordered, and Alex slowly raised her beaten face. She realized in surprise that her fear of dying had vanished, giving way to a strange serenity. She wasn’t afraid anymore. Instead, she felt nothing at all.