Nele Neuhaus - Swimming with Sharks

Connors’s staff member Tracy Taylor entered the office.

“What’s up, Tracy?” Connors asked. “Did you find anything about this lawyer from California?”

“Yes,” the young woman said, frowning apologetically. “I’m afraid that someone else got to him before us. Someone set his house on fire two nights ago. The police found a burned body that was most likely that of Sturgess’s girlfriend. They initiated a search for John Sturgess after he didn’t show up at his office yesterday. A surfer found his body close to the pier in Newport Beach two hours ago.”

“Oh shit,” Connors said. Nick just raised his eyebrows. It wasn’t the first time that he’d seen the silencing of a witness.

“Nick,” Frank Cohen said as he entered the room, “Mr. Engels and Mr. Jenkins just arrived.”

“Great,” Connors said gleefully, rubbing his hands eagerly, “let’s get this party started.”

Justin had booked a double room with a view at a five-star hotel on Lake Zurich under the names of Frank and Emily Chambers. There was an international warrant out for German citizen Alex Sontheim for suspected homicide, but no one would care if an American couple booked a hotel room—even if the husband never showed up. Alex almost fell asleep in the taxi that drove her from Zurich’s Kloten Airport. Throughout the flight, she was frightened that someone would discover she was traveling under a fake passport, but nothing happened. Furthermore, her transformation was perfect. When she caught her relection in the mirror, Alex could hardly believe that the woman with the short dark curls and blue eyes was her. After almost seventy-two hours without sleep, she longed for a hot bath and a comfortable bed.

There was complete silence as Lloyd Connors finished his report. Gordon Engels and Tate Jenkins had showed up with three US marshals, Deputy Thomas J. Spooner, Deputy Randy Khazaeli, and Deputy Joe Stewart; and three FBI agents, Samuel Ramirez, Jeffrey Quinn, and Steve O’Brien. Everyone, including Nick, Frank, and Connors’s staff, sat at the mayor’s conference table.

“So these are the facts that we’ve gathered so far,” Connors said, looking around the table. “It appears that Vitali has been bribing almost every important man in New York City and Albany for years. We have everyone listed here: the governor, senators, the police commissioner of New York City, the US attorney of the Southern District, federal judges, city council members, officers of the Securities and Exchange Commission, and even officials from the Department of State, the Department of Justice, and the Department of Commerce in Washington.”

“Unbelievable,” Engels commented after a brief silence. He was a skinny, gray-haired man with alert eyes behind thick glasses.

Jenkins remained skeptical. “How credible is this information?” he wanted to know.

“Very credible,” Connors replied.

“I’m afraid,” Engels said with a frown, knocking his knuckles on the copies of the bank statements, “that this is going to be an enormous scandal. We don’t know what might happen when the people find out that almost every high-ranking official in New York accepted bribes.”

“Before I take concrete action,” Jenkins added, “I still need to talk to Mr. Horner. I can’t move ahead with a case this huge without his approval.”

Nick and Connors exchanged a glance. Engels and Jenkins seemed to be anything but delighted about the prospect of uncovering such a huge corruption scandal.

“In my opinion, it’s imperative to act with urgency.” Connors sat down. “Vitali hasn’t just bribed these people. We have the written testimony of a man who did the dirty work for him. This man was shot last Thursday night. The lawyer who recorded his statement was killed two days ago. If Vitali gets wind of the fact that we’re on his heels, he’ll cover up his tracks and more people may die.”

“What was the name of the man who was shot?” Gordon Engels inquired.

“His name was Zachary St. John.”

“Oh,” Jenkins said, raising his eyebrows, “the investment banker who was killed by his accomplice?”

“He wasn’t killed by Alex Sontheim, but by Vitali’s people,” Connors replied, hardly suppressing his impatience. “Alex Sontheim is a threat to Vitali. That’s why he’s trying to put the blame on her for this murder.”

“Do you have any evidence, Connors?”

Jenkins leaned back. The deputy US attorney threw him a quick glance.

“Nick,” he said, “could you please explain this?”

Nick cleared his throat and sat up straight. He hadn’t said a word yet, but he observed the reactions of Engels and Jenkins closely. Jenkins was hard to read, just like most FBI people. His face remained emotionless. Nick knew he needed to convince Jenkins how dangerous Vitali was. Briefly, he explained why he seriously doubted that Alex Sontheim had committed St. John’s murder. He repeated in summary what Justin Savier had told him the night before, and he finally voiced his suspicion that Vitali had been shot by Colombian drug dealers in July of last year.

“How do you know all of this, Nick?” Engels asked in astonishment.

“I’ve been dealing with Vitali for many years now,” Nick replied, “and prosecuted him myself at least a dozen times for various crimes. He managed to squirm free every time. I know him. I know his methods. I know his business. In July, I was sure that I would finally get my hands on Vitali. The same night that someone shot at him, his son was arrested during an illegal raid to clear out a building in the Bronx. As soon as I heard about it, I went to the precinct and—to my surprise—Mr. de Lancie was already there, even though everyone knows he prefers office work. He acted strangely for a US attorney, and I asked him which side of the law he was on. Cesare Vitali was then found hanged in his cell. The next day, a mysterious terrorist appeared and threatened to contaminate groceries with anthrax spores. On top of that, the man who allegedly shot Vitali turned himself in to the police and immediately made a confession. Both of these stories pushed the shots fired at Vitali from the headlines. It was a classic red herring, and it almost would have worked if I hadn’t voiced my suspicions publicly. I was so sure of myself, but my excitement caused me to disregard how ruthless and dangerous this man can be when threatened.”

Nick paused for a moment and then continued in a quiet voice.

“I personally had to learn through painful experience how close I had come to the truth.”

“No charges were brought against Vitali,” Engels interjected. “How can you be so sure that he was behind the bombing?”

“One of my closest employees was also on Vitali’s payroll.” Nick shrugged his shoulders. “Raymond Howard informed him about everything. He also died in the bombing.”

“But—” Jenkins started to speak, but Frank Cohen interrupted. He couldn’t take his boss’s agonized expression.

“Howard personally told me who was behind the bombing. Just before he died, he told me that Vitali ordered the assassination.”

“What exactly did he say?” Jenkins asked.

Frank took a deep breath, haunted by the memory. “He said that Vitali wanted to kill Nick.”

Everyone sitting around the conference table was stunned.

“Why didn’t you tell me before, Nick?” Connors asked.

“Because it wouldn’t have brought my family back to life,” the mayor replied. “When Frank told me about it, Ray was long dead. There were no witnesses. I didn’t have the strength to endure such an investigation.”

“Did Ms. Sontheim know about this?”

“No,” Nick said, shaking his head, “I don’t think so.”