Nele Neuhaus - Swimming with Sharks

“Yes, I did.”

“There you go. He had to show up because he’s obligated to Vitali. I was also there, which he didn’t like at all. He was acting strange for a US attorney. I told him straight to his face that I questioned his loyalty.”

Connors nodded slowly.

“It was also strange that they captured the guy who allegedly shot at Vitali within just a few hours. Furthermore, there was this obscure terrorist case that—in my opinion—served to distract from Vitali and his son’s death.”

“So who actually shot at him?”

“I suspect that it was the Colombian drug cartel. Vitali tipped off customs, which in turn busted a huge cocaine shipment. The shots at Vitali were the Colombian’s revenge. I saw through it, but I made the mistake of publicly announcing it. The attempt on my life was the final proof of how dangerously close I got to the truth.”

“Good Lord. Nick, do you know what all of this means?”

“Yes,” Nick said, frowning, “I know very well.”

“But how does Sontheim fit into this? Why did she disappear?”

“She’s understandably frightened after everything that’s happened.”

Connors started pacing. He frowned, chewing on his lower lip.

“I hope you get this, Lloyd,” Nick said. “I’m pretty sure Vitali spread the rumor that Alex killed St. John to create a distraction. A murder suspect is useless as a witness in court.”

The deputy US attorney stopped.

“Looking at it that way, it doesn’t sound as absurd anymore.” He took a deep breath and exhaled again. “But I can’t rush things. A case like this must be prepared carefully.”

“We don’t have much time left. With every passing hour, Vitali has more opportunity to destroy the evidence.”

And he could find Alex. And kill her …

No, he mustn’t think about that now. Above all else, he had to make sure that no one caught on to his feelings for this woman, who was the key witness in one of the biggest corruption scandals in New York’s history. Connors leaned forward, his hands braced on the tabletop; he stared at the papers spread out in front of him.

“I don’t know what kind of avalanche we may trigger here,” he said to Nick’s relief, “but we’ll get to the bottom of this.”

“We have a lead,” Luca announced. “She bought something at a department store in Boston this morning with her credit card.”

Sergio had been lying on the sofa with his eyes closed; he jumped up. Alex had gotten out of the city. Did she make a purchase with her credit card on purpose, or was it just poor judgment? She must know that credit cards could be traced.

“The FBI is watching every international airport,” Massimo said. “She won’t be able to leave the country.”

“Of course she can,” Sergio replied, annoyed. “She probably has new papers and a different appearance by now. Alex is damn clever.”

Massimo, Luca, and Silvio looked at each other. They had never seen Sergio Vitali admit to a mistake.

“We have to catch her before the cops do,” Sergio said, more to himself than the other three men. “Luca, send two guys to the airport in Boston. And Silvio, what about this lawyer in LA?”

“We’ve got all the documents,” Silvio responded. “Our man is already on a plane back to New York. His tracks have been covered up carefully.”

“Will the lawyer keep his mouth shut?”

“Yes, he will,” Silvio confirmed. “He swallowed a bit too much water.”

Sergio nodded in satisfaction. Levy would fly to Georgetown tomorrow morning to close all of the secret accounts. He hadn’t heard anything yet, but there was still the possibility that Alex had told someone about these accounts. It was better to temporarily close them. The US Attorney’s Office seemed to have swallowed the bait. The television news reports were all about the fugitive Alex Sontheim. The evidence against her was overwhelming. The FBI’s involvement in the search had blown St. John’s murder so out of proportion that MPM’s bankruptcy had become a side issue. Exactly as planned. Sergio’s friends at the SEC and the US Attorney’s Office would pursue the investigation in their usual superficial way, and in two weeks no one would give a damn about it anymore. Oliver Skerritt was in a single cell at the police department. Alex’s closest employee, Mark Ashton, was in a basement at LMI. All they could do now was wait.

The telephone rang shortly before midnight.

“The money was wired from California S&L to an account at Bank of America at eleven this morning,” Levy announced. “A few hours later, it was transferred out of the country. This was all done electronically.”

“Do you know where it was sent?”

“Of course,” Levy replied with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “That’s one of the advantages of modern data communication. It was wired to Switzerland.”

“There are hundreds of banks in Switzerland.”

“Exactly. And this is where we lose the trail. It was transferred to an anonymous numbered account. Alex knows what she’s doing. We’d better just accept it: that money is gone.”

Tracy Taylor and Jason Bennett—Lloyd Connors’s two closest staff members—arrived at city hall just after midnight. Frank had ordered some pizza and brewed a pot of coffee, and now they were sitting at the conference table with all of the papers spread out in front of them as they worked through a strategy. It was almost like old times, when Nick was still a US attorney planning the takedowns of Mafia bosses. But in contrast to those days, they needed to proceed with extreme caution because they could not discern friend from enemy. They couldn’t trust a soul. Anyone working in the city could be on Vitali’s payroll.

“We have to keep de Lancie out of this,” Nick said. “He’s one of Vitali’s most important connections at the moment.”

“We still don’t know how bulletproof this evidence is,” Connors said. “Where did this woman get these statements? Who obtained them?”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“Yes,” the deputy US attorney objected, “it does. We must prove without a doubt that these people actually used this money. We also need to prove how they accessed these accounts. They may be totally unaware of it. In that case, we’d have a case of attempted bribery, but no criminal offense.”

“Above all, we need the woman,” Jason Bennett spoke up. “She’s the only one who understands all the connections.”

Nick leaned back in exhaustion. If they confronted the people on this list with the bank statements, then they’d willingly testify just to save their own skin—he had no doubt about that. He didn’t care whether or not Alex was the key witness, but he was still seriously worried about her. There was no doubt Vitali had ordered his people to track her down.

“We need to bring in the FBI,” Connors added. “This thing is too big for us alone. Imagine what will happen when we arrest Governor Rhodes…”

“So what?” Nick walked back and forth restlessly. “He accepted money from a criminal.”

“Did he really?”

Someone knocked at the door, and Allie Mitchell peeked in. She had come back to the office when Frank called her at home.

“There’s a gentleman here by the name of Justin Savier,” she said. “He claims to be a friend of Alex Sontheim.”

“Send him in!” Nick exclaimed.

A skinny man in his midthirties with shoulder-length dreadlocks entered the office of New York City’s mayor. “Excuse me for interrupting, but Alex Sontheim asked me to come here.”

Nick looked at the man suspiciously. Was he really one of Vitali’s spies just pretending to be Alex’s friend?