Nele Neuhaus - Swimming with Sharks

“Yes,” he said, his bewilderment and horror genuine, “that’s her. Alex Sontheim.”

“Was it common for Mr. St. John to spend time at his office late at night?” the detective asked.

“Yes, that’s not unusual,” Levy confirmed. “We had some trouble with an important deal yesterday. It must have kept him late in his office.”

The officer grabbed the telephone. He told his people to search for Alex Sontheim, that she was the main suspect, and then he turned to Monaghan.

“Do you have a picture of this woman?” he asked.

“I’ll get you one,” Monaghan replied, “and Detective, you should search the building. It’s possible that she’s still inside.”

Munroe shot him an unfriendly look.

“You could have told me that right away,” he snarled, rushing out to his colleagues.

“No, I couldn’t have,” Henry Monaghan muttered. Vitali had left no doubt that he wanted to get his hands on Alex before the police could question her.

Alex was surprised to see the police. Every corridor and hallway was swarming with them, along with LMI’s security staff. Escape seemed impossible. She cowered in a heating shaft above an office, still on the thirtieth floor, and waited for an opportunity to get out. Her cell phone battery was dead, and she had no way of contacting Oliver or Mark. She was frightened, exhausted, and hungry, but she couldn’t afford to make any mistakes. It was seven thirty already, which meant that she had been crawling around these dusty shafts for almost three hours. Alex kept feeling her way forward until she suddenly heard voices beneath her. She carefully moved one of the panels half an inch and peeked inside an office through the crack. Her heart jumped when she caught sight of Vincent Levy.

“I don’t understand anything anymore! What’s going on here?”

“We caught Sontheim on our surveillance tape,” another man said, who was not visible to Alex. That must be Henry Monaghan’s voice.

“She was in St. John’s office and retrieved e-mails from his computer that possibly contain questionable information.”

They certainly do, Alex thought.

“Are you sure that Alex killed St. John?” Levy asked.

“I have no idea,” Monaghan replied, “but if the police believe it, then they’ll do anything to catch her. Vitali wants to get his hands on her first. We need to wait for the cops to leave, and then we’ll find her.”

Alex felt her throat constricting in fear. She was trapped. She might get out of here, but only to run straight into the arms of Sergio’s henchmen.

“Oh my God, this is terrible,” Levy whined below her. “The damage to LMI is incalculable! A dead body in my firm and a manager as a murderer.”

“There’s no need to panic,” Monaghan said harshly. “I have everything under control. Schedule a meeting at nine o’clock for all of the employees on the trading floor and tell them that St. John has been shot at his desk—most likely by Sontheim.”

“Ahh, how awful, how awful.”

“Pull yourself together,” Monaghan growled. “Nothing will happen to you! The story’s great, and the press will jump on it. St. John and Sontheim were in it together and executed insider trades through their small company, MPM. Then they fell out of favor with one another when they bit off more than they could chew with their last deal. As a result, Sontheim kills her partner in crime.”

Alex could hardly believe her ears. She and Zack in cahoots?

“The police will interrogate me,” Levy whimpered, and Alex wondered how she could ever have felt respect for this man. His spinelessness and his cowardice were shocking.

“Of course,” Monaghan impatiently cut him off, “you’ll tell them that, after serious contemplation, you already suspected that they were involved in some secret side deals together. After the deal blew up yesterday, they were sure to be discovered. They got into an argument, and then she killed him. That sounds great.”

Alex felt compelled to agree with them. It certainly sounded plausible. She and St. John as accomplices, insider trading, millions lost, a fight, and one dead. They’d charge her with murder, as well as insider trading, fraud, embezzlement, and several other crimes. Levy and Vitali were clean, in any case.

“We need to go,” Monaghan said.

“What about the bank statements?” Levy asked. “Did you find anything?”

“My people in Georgetown are working on it,” Monaghan replied.

Alex waited until the two men had left Levy’s office, pushed a ceiling panel aside, and then slid down gently. She would be done for if anyone saw her trying to escape the building. She wouldn’t survive a single day in prison—just like Cesare Vitali. It was shortly before eight. She grabbed the telephone determinedly and dialed Mark’s extension. He must be at work by this hour. With trembling hands, she waited, and she almost hung up right before he answered.

“Mark!” she whispered.

“Alex,” he answered, sounding relieved, “where are you? We’ve been trying to reach you all night long. We even went to LMI, but I couldn’t open the door with my badge. There’s a rumor going around that you shot Zack!”

“None of it is true,” she said. “Listen to me, Mark!”

She quickly recounted what had happened and what she had just witnessed.

“They want to pin this murder on me to cover everything up,” she whispered quickly, “and they know I have evidence that could ruin them.”

“They registered you and Zack as the owners of MPM,” Mark reported. “Justin found out about it. Where are you?”

“I’m still on the thirtieth floor. I have to get out and see Kostidis.” Alex hoped that the mayor would believe her, but she wasn’t sure.

“What can I do to help?”

“Nothing,” Alex replied after thinking a minute. “Get up, leave your desk as is, and get out of the building immediately.”

“But—”

“Mark, do as I say, please,” Alex whispered. “I’ll get out of here somehow.”

“Okay.” Mark hesitated. “Should Oliver and I pick you up somewhere?”

Alex bit her lip. As appealing it seemed to get some help, it would be irresponsible to drag Oliver or Mark even deeper into this mess. This situation was no longer clear to her.

“No, absolutely not,” she said quickly. “I’ll get it done by myself.”

“Alex, please, let us help you!”

“No.” She remained steadfast. “Get up and get out of the office. Right now. I’ll contact you as soon as I can.”

Alex hung up. She hoped that it wasn’t too late already for Mark. She closed her eyes for a moment and sorted her thoughts. She and Zack were the owners of MPM. Zack had liquidated all of the MPM holdings last night and wired fifty million dollars to his private account. Alex opened her eyes, and her gaze fell on Levy’s computer screen. She suddenly had an idea. With a grim smile, she sat down at his desk and pulled the keyboard and the mouse closer. She would make sure that Sergio and Levy had plenty more to be angry about.

“Mr. Ashton?”

Mark still had the telephone receiver in his hand when two men stepped up to his desk. His heart stopped for a moment. “Detective John Munroe, NYPD,” the taller one said, holding his police badge in Mark’s face, “and this is my colleague, Detective Connolly. We have a few questions that we’d like to ask you.”

Mark’s heartbeat went back to normal when he realized that these men were police officers and not Vitali’s bloodhounds. He sensed his colleagues’ curious looks behind him. All of the chatter in the large, open office—solely about last night’s incidents—fell silent.