Swimming with Sharks (33 page)

Sergio sighed. Fred Schumer was the powerful chairman of the House Oversight Committee, an influential man who usually didn’t care about rumors. Sergio had known him for over twenty years. Schumer had been extremely helpful on several occasions.

“It doesn’t look good.” Nelson looked concerned.

“These goddamn cowards,” Sergio growled. “Gutless opportunists. They can kiss my ass.”

He was tired, and his injured shoulder was hurting, but at least his mind was functioning impeccably again.

“But we need them,” Nelson said, voicing his concern.

“I know!” Sergio’s anger flared. “But what the hell am I supposed to do?”

Massimo and Luca exchanged a telling look. The situation was serious. Sergio could lose his power if he lost the protection of his political connections. The television was on, and the newscast reported hourly about the latest developments in the anthrax case. Then Mayor Kostidis appeared on the screen. He stood on the city hall steps with dozens of reporters and TV cameras crowded around him. Sergio sat up straight. Massimo, Luca, and Nelson also fell silent and listened.

“Mayor Kostidis, what do you think about the terrorist demanding your resignation?”
the NBC reporter asked.

“In my opinion, this is nothing but a clever diversion,”
Kostidis replied calmly.

He was filled with energy and seemed to be completely in control of the situation, although he had barely slept since Saturday.

“What kind of diversion?”
another journalist yelled.

“There was an assassination attempt on Sergio Vitali on Saturday night,”
Kostidis said,
“after a large shipment of cocaine was seized by the customs authorities at the Brooklyn port on Tuesday. The drugs were discovered on a freighter coming from Costa Rica, which is the drug cartel’s classic transportation route. The police and customs authorities received an anonymous tip. We’ve been monitoring Vitali’s connection with the port for a long time.”

“That goddamn bastard,” Sergio muttered with a stoic expression. The other men were silent.

“A gang war rages between Vitali and the Colombian drug cartel. Three men were shot dead at the port on Sunday evening—three Americans of
Italian origin—who likely worked for Vitali. It seems plausible to me that the attempt on Vitali’s life was revenge for blowing the cover of a drug shipment.”

“But the perpetrator has been caught,”
one of the reporters argued.

“That’s rather unlikely, isn’t it?”
Kostidis smiled.
“I assume that the man who confessed to this crime has been paid off by Vitali. He’ll be sentenced to two years in prison, and then he’ll be released again after one year for good conduct. The public is reassured that this is just one lunatic instead of a gang war.”

“How do you know about all this, Mayor Kostidis?
”

“I don’t know anything,”
the mayor replied,
“but I suspect that the sole purpose of this scheme to poison groceries is to distract us from the assassination attempt on Vitali.”

“These are dangerous speculations, Mayor Kostidis,”
one reporter said.
“Do you have any evidence?”

“Not yet. But I’ll have it soon. I was a US attorney fighting against these criminals long enough to know their methods and ways of thinking.”

“You can’t call Mr. Vitali a criminal!”

“Really? I can’t?”
Kostidis’s dark eyes sparkled.
“Well, I’m doing it! He may own many serious businesses and donate millions of dollars to charities, but if you could take a look behind his mask of altruism, you’d see that he’s a criminal. Sergio Vitali is the godfather of New York City.”

Massimo, Luca, and Nelson threw covert glances at Sergio, but he kept a straight face.

“You’ve got to give it to this man,” he said eventually. “He’s pretty clever. It’s a real shame that he’s not on our side.”

“He’s dangerous,” Nelson replied in concern, “extremely dangerous. He’s seen through everything.”

“But he has no evidence,” Massimo objected. “He talks and talks, and that’s all he does.”

“Kostidis doesn’t need evidence,” Sergio answered grimly. “Every word he says rattles the people who are on our side. Not one of them will
publicly side with us as long he utters such things on television. They can’t afford to because they’d lose their jobs otherwise.”

“Let’s do something about him!” Massimo shouted passionately. “Why don’t we sue him for libel and slander? How can he claim such things?”

Sergio threw a glance at his son and slowly shook his head. “We’ve got to do something,” he said.

“But what do you suggest?” Nelson asked. “I could try to obtain a preliminary injunction that prohibits him from—”

“That’s useless,” Sergio snapped. “Kostidis doesn’t give a crap about preliminary injunctions or libel actions. He’s obsessed with being right. As a matter of fact—he is.”

“We’ll shut him up!” Massimo said.

“Unfortunately, it’s not that easy,” Sergio countered. “He is the mayor of this city. He’s very influential and incredibly popular. There’s only one solution in his case.”

The room was dead silent. Each of the men understood what Sergio meant.

“No.” Nelson broke the silence and stood up. “You can’t kill the mayor.”

“Who said anything about killing?” Sergio stared at the television screen with a gloomy face. “An accident—a tragic, regrettable accident. A human life is so fragile.”

Nelson looked at his old friend and realized that he was serious. Sergio was in a precarious position: he was still recovering from the shooting, and he was distraught because of Cesare’s death and Constanzia’s violent reaction. Old friends were avoiding him, and the house of cards of sensitive relationships threatened to collapse. The trouble with Ortega and the port was the icing on the cake. Kostidis could cause severe damage. This crisis had come to a head. It was time for action. “He must disappear,” Sergio said at that moment, “the faster, the better.”

“We shouldn’t plan on that option right away,” Nelson objected carefully. “We could intimidate Kostidis and tell him clearly that it would be better for him to shut up.”

“Intimidate him?” Sergio laughed and immediately grimaced in pain. “How do you plan to intimidate this man? Kostidis doesn’t fear the devil himself!”

“We could…intimidate him physically.”

Sergio snorted disdainfully and held his empty glass to Luca, who instantly refilled it with whiskey.

“He’d crawl in front of the cameras to proclaim his allegations if he was half dead.” Sergio finished the glass with one gulp. “No, Nicholas Kostidis doesn’t understand threats.”

“But if he dies, they will immediately suspect you.”

“Once he’s gone, I’ll finally have my peace. Remember that the men who will investigate his death are on our payroll.”

Nelson van Mieren shook his head determinedly. He didn’t care if Massimo and Luca witnessed his insubordination.

“I won’t be a party to that,” he finally said. “I’ve always been on your side, Sergio. I’ve fought quite a few battles and wars with you. We’ve built up all of this and managed to make it legal. I understood that we needed to get some people out of the way every now and then. But if you order the assassination of the mayor, then it will have far broader implications than we’ll be able to handle. His death would drag all of us into the abyss!”

Sergio stared in surprise at his oldest and most loyal companion. He wasn’t used to hearing such explicit opposition from him.

“I know you’re not afraid of anything,” Nelson implored “but we can also solve this problem. Right now it’s important to come to an agreement with Ortega. Everything else will turn out all right.”

“Kostidis is destroying everything I’ve built,” Sergio said in a sinister tone. “He ’s tasted blood and won’t let go anymore. You know that as well as I do!”

“If you plan on killing him, I want no part of it,” Nelson repeated in a low voice as he looked away. Sergio raised himself up with difficulty, but he hadn’t lost all of his strength.

“Nelson,” he said softly, “you’re my oldest friend. You’re the only person on this planet I would call a friend. However, you know that I can’t afford this. You understand that Kostidis has turned into an incalculable risk, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Nelson nodded, “but that doesn’t mean you need to kill him!”

Sergio stared straight through him for a long time. After a while, Nelson bowed his head.

“If you’ll excuse me now,” he said, “I need to go to the medical examiner’s office. The results of the autopsy should be available at one o’clock. I also need to post bail for Silvio.”

Sergio sat down again after Nelson left the room. He looked around aimlessly, looking gloomy.

“Luca,” he said eventually, “please prepare a plan for how we can silence Kostidis once and for all. I don’t care how you do it. The most important thing is that it happens fast.”

Luca nodded.

“And pick two of your best men. They should keep an eye on Nelson around the clock.”

“Okay, boss.” Luca bowed slightly and left.

“Papa,” Massimo said, turning to his father after silently following this scene, “do you think that Nelson will betray us?”

“No,” Sergio replied, sounding tired. “Nelson’s sick. He’s getting old. His nerves aren’t the best anymore. He was different back in the day, but he’s forgotten what it means to wage a war.”

“But Ortega—” Massimo started to say.

“I’m not talking about Ortega,” Sergio said. “I’m talking about Kostidis. His weapons are much more subtle than Ortega’s, but no
less effective. He takes advantage of every sign of weakness. He’s clever, too.”

When Alex arrived at Sergio’s apartment, she had to admit that he seemed to be in control of his situation, although he was clearly still unwell. His face was leaner than usual, and his expression was more pronounced and colder. He looked like a general—proud, aware of his power. The apartment, which was usually deserted, was crowded with his men. Alex even had to put up with them searching her purse.

“I’m very sorry about your son,” Alex said, stopping a few feet shy of him. She made no attempt to kiss him. She had not forgotten that he’d knowingly put her life at risk.

“Thank you,” he replied, “it’s hard for his mother.”

“And for you?”

His eyes narrowed for a split second, and then he raised his shoulders.

“Cesare was a weak person,” he said. “He was a drug addict, a frail man.”

“But he was your son!” Alex was shocked by his indifference.

“And still, he didn’t mean more to me than anyone else,” Sergio countered. “Are you shocked now? Why should I pretend to be the grieving father if I’m not?”

Alex remained silent. If she thought that he needed comfort after all that had happened, then she was wrong. Sergio was miles away from any kind of human feelings.

“How are you,
cara
?” he asked.

Alex didn’t respond to his question. “How are you?”

“Getting better. They removed the bullet.”

Alex couldn’t believe it. He acted as if this were all as trivial as an appendectomy.

“I’m wondering why you’re keeping half an army of bodyguards in your apartment,” she said coolly. “The television said that they arrested the shooter.”

Sergio sat down on the sofa.

“Well, you never know.” His expression was inscrutable.

“Maybe you vaguely remember that I was standing right next to you when you were shot,” Alex countered harshly, “and without a bulletproof vest at that! It wasn’t this guy. So who was it then?”

“I know who it was,” countered Sergio, “but that doesn’t matter. It wasn’t meant personally.”

“It wasn’t meant personally?” Alex laughed in disbelief. “I think I’d take it personally if someone was trying to kill me!”

“I stepped on someone’s toes.” Sergio sipped his whiskey to numb the pain in his shoulder, at least a little bit. “And that was his response.”

Alex stared at Sergio. He felt more like a stranger than ever before. The presence of the armed men triggered the same uneasy feeling she had at the warehouse in Brooklyn.

“Come, sit down next to me!” Sergio asked her. Alex hesitated. She complied with his request but sat at the far end of the couch.

“Why did you want to see me?” she asked stiffly. “I dropped everything because your son said it was urgent.”

“I thought about our conversation,” Sergio said. “You mentioned that you wanted to end our relationship.”

Alex kept silent and waited for him to keep talking.

“I understand that you’re angry with me,” he continued in an unusually reasonable manner. “I’ve made some mistakes. But I don’t want to lose you, and that’s why I’d like to suggest something to you.”

Alex didn’t want to hear his suggestion. He leaned forward and grabbed her hand before she could get up.

“You don’t have to give me an answer right away. Take your time and think about it.” He didn’t smile. His eyes were inscrutable. He looked at her for a while and then let go of her hand. He stood up.

“I’m divorcing Constanzia,” he said to Alex’s complete astonishment, “and I want you to be my wife.”