Swimming with Sharks (43 page)

“Maybe it would be best to admit him to a—”

“For heaven’s sake!” Father Kevin interrupted the senior physician. “He’s not crazy! Give him time to accept his family’s death. The only thing that can help him now is time. He’ll come to terms with it one day. I’m sure of it.”

The three senior physicians were perplexed as they looked at each other.

“Okay, Father,” the head physician finally said. “We’ll release Mr. Kostidis on Tuesday. We should respect that he doesn’t want to talk about something that’s still so fresh and painful. Maybe you’re right, and time will heal his wounds.”

Frank Cohen and Michael Page invited all the people Nick himself would have if he had been up to the task. They waited at the old, tree-filled cemetery of the St. Ignatius monastery in Brooklyn. Francis Dulong and his wife, Trevor and Madeleine Downey, Michael Campione and his wife Sally, and Christopher Kostidis’s best friends were among the group of about eighty mourners. The grounds of the monastery were sealed off by over a hundred police officers. No one without a permit was allowed near the cemetery. Countless reporters, camera teams, and also citizens of the
city, who wanted to support their mayor in this hardest hour of his life, crowded behind the police barriers.

Nick’s face looked as if it were set in stone as he walked along the cemetery’s winding paths between his in-laws. He stared straight ahead and seated himself in the first row of chairs at the open grave into which the urns had been placed. Piles of funeral wreaths and flower arrangements, which had been diligently checked by FBI and NYPD explosives experts, were piled around the open grave. The mourners took their seats. No one uttered a word. The tragic deaths of Mary, Christopher, and Britney Edwards had shocked them, but the sight of Nick Kostidis had them speechless in dismay. They’d come because they wanted to stand by him and express their compassion and deep sorrow, but he didn’t give them a chance to do so. He sat stiffly on his chair, as white as a sheet, without expressing the slightest emotion, without even once averting his gaze from the urns. When Father Kevin stepped over to the grave with a procession of four altar boys, everyone except Nick stood up. It was as if he hadn’t even noticed them.

“Out of the depths I call to you, O Lord,” the priest began in a low voice that still carried to the last row. “Hear my voice, O Lord! Let your ears be attentive to my voice in supplication. If you, O Lord, mark iniquities, who can stand? But with you is forgiveness, that you may be revered. I trust in the Lord; my soul trusts his word. My soul waits for the Lord, more than sentinels wait for the dawn.”

The Jesuit priest sprinkled holy water over the urns. The words he spoke were simple but full of compassion, and few mourners were able to hold back their tears.

Mary’s mother sobbed and blew her nose loudly. Father Kevin said the first words of the Lord’s Prayer aloud, and then he continued to pray in silence, sprinkling the urns with holy water again and swinging small incense censers back and forth. “And lead us not into temptation, but
deliver us from evil. O Lord, save their souls from the gates of hell! Let them rest in peace.”

The church bell of the abbey chimed. Mourners continued sobbing quietly, but Nick sat motionless with a frozen face.

“I am the resurrection and the life,” Father Kevin said. “Whoever believes in Me will live, even though he dies; whoever lives and believes in Me will never die.”

In conclusion, the Jesuit priest took some soil from the bowl standing next to the grave and threw in three handfuls.

“For you are dust and to dust you shall return. The Lord will raise you up on the last day.”

By request, the mourners refrained from giving their condolences to Nick after paying their last respects to the deceased. They exited in silence, until he was the last one left sitting in the first row of chairs. Despite the oppressive heat, he didn’t seem to sweat in his black suit and hadn’t moved once since he sat down an hour ago.

Frank watched his boss with an uncertain look. Did he even realize that the funeral was over? The gravediggers arrived and started to shovel dirt onto the grave and pile the flowers and wreaths on top of it. They were used to grieving relatives and performed their duty quickly and quietly. Frank and the bodyguards waited patiently a few yards away in the heat of the July afternoon.

Only now did Nick stand up and step toward the grave where his parents and brothers had been buried. He swayed slightly, but then he managed to straighten his shoulders and take a deep breath. He didn’t feel the heat that had built up between the old cemetery’s ivy-covered walls. He didn’t see the clear blue sky, which arched brightly over the city despite his sorrow. He couldn’t hear the birds singing in the crown of the dense old trees. The sun was setting in the west by the time Nick Kostidis finished his silent dialogue with all those whom he’d accompanied to this place. He left the cemetery with a lowered head, the epitome of grief and despair.

Early October 2000

Zack disappeared to California for a few weeks after the Syncrotron debacle. The official story was that he had to organize the restructuring of LMI’s West Coast office. But Alex knew better. Levy had sent Zack to LA until the dust settled and she had calmed down. Even Sergio left the city for a while in August, and she was happy that there was no follow-up on his marriage proposal. She was also relieved that he hadn’t asked her to see him, since the sheer thought of seeing him caused her physical discomfort.

Oliver had helped her find a new place, because she could no longer stand living in Sergio’s apartment. The converted loft was in Tribeca, in a secure complex that had residential units, offices, and a film company headquarters. Alex liked the underground parking garage the best. In case Sergio was still watching her, it had exits to two streets so she could escape from possible pursuers.

Over the past few months, she had often considered calling Nick Kostidis, but she simply didn’t have the courage. She had sent him a condolence card and received a printed thank-you note soon thereafter, which he had signed personally.

The entire financial world seemed to be on vacation in August. But with the start of September, Wall Street was once again flooded with new transactions, and—thanks to Alex—LMI was involved in the biggest and most profitable deals.

On October 1, she ran into Zack in the LMI Building lobby. He was leaner and seemed relaxed.

“Let’s bury the hatchet, Alex,” he said in a friendly tone. “I made a silly mistake and got roasted because of it.”

Alex trusted him as little as before, but she shook his hand for tactical reasons.

“Truce?” Zack asked.

“Truce,” she replied.

She wasn’t surprised when Sergio called her that very same afternoon, right after Levy had ordered her into his office to request a meeting Saturday morning. It was clear they feared that she would resign because Zack was back in town. Their game was annoyingly transparent to Alex. She would have simply loved to tell Sergio to go to hell and leave her alone, but she couldn’t do it just like that. Instead, because of his persistence, she reluctantly accepted an invitation for dinner at his apartment on Park Avenue that coming Friday.

Sergio was suntanned, and his blue eyes were gleaming. The bullet wound and his son’s death—all of it seemed to have passed him by without a trace. But for the first time since she had known him, Alex wasn’t taken by his handsome looks; she saw that his beauty was as cold and empty as that of an antique statue. The smile didn’t shine in his eyes, and his charming exterior was like a thin layer of varnish over what she knew was a ruthless and brutal core. The moment Alex saw him, she realized that there had never been anything more between them than pure physical attraction.

They entered one of the apartment’s huge salons where a table was set for two. During the multicourse dinner, Alex had to muster all her strength to pretend that she was happy to see him again after such a long time. But really, she wanted to tell him that she knew he was a murderer. She longed
for this arduous evening to end, but the time passed so painfully slowly. They finally made it to the digestif, and Sergio led her to a different salon.

“I also have a little gift for you,
cara
,” he announced with a smile and handed her a small package. “Open it. I’m sure that you’ll like it.”

Alex obeyed and froze when she opened the jewelry box. A diamond-studded white gold necklace lay on black velvet. She would not allow herself to be bought by this gift. Thirty pieces of silver for her silence. Sergio took the necklace and placed it around her neck. She shivered when the cool metal touched her skin. “Wonderful,” he said, satisfied. “I knew that it would look magnificent on you.”

“I can’t accept this,” Alex refused. “It’s much too valuable.”

“Yes, you can.” Sergio leaned toward her and kissed her. “You can. The most beautiful jewelry for the most beautiful woman I know.”

“Sergio, I…” Alex felt more uncomfortable by the minute, but he put his index finger on her lips, smiling.

“This past year has been difficult for my business,” he said, “but now I’ve solved all the problems and come to the conclusion that it’s time to change my life.”

Alex felt a chill. She thought about Nick Kostidis, David Zuckerman, and the assassination attempt by the Colombian drug cartel. Oh yes, Sergio had definitely solved his problems in his own way.

“I think,” he continued, “that you should live here. With me. I’ll file for a divorce from Constanzia, and then we can get married.”

Alex had hoped that he would never mention this topic again. She didn’t know how to react. His hand was resting on her knee and wandered up her thigh. Then he leaned her head back and kissed her.

“I love you,
cara
,” he murmured. “I’ve longed for you so much in the past weeks.”

Alex cursed herself for accepting Sergio’s invitation. She didn’t want his gift, and she couldn’t stand his touch. The mere thought of being married to this ice-cold killer filled her with horror.

“We’ll have a wedding that people will still talk about fifty years from now.” His hands slid beneath her blouse, and he started breathing heavily. “And then we’ll cruise on the
Stella Maris
for our honeymoon—just you and I. For as long as you want. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”

Sergio pulled her on top of him, and she was filled with disgust when she felt his erection. But what could she do in this situation other than play along with him?

“I wish we could get married tomorrow,” she lied, responding to his kiss. She felt like bursting into tears. “It was always my dream to live on Park Avenue. I’m curious what Trevor and Madeleine will say. Maybe you can buy a house on Long Island. Perhaps I’ll resign my position at LMI.”

Sergio paused for a split second.

“If that’s what you want,
cara
,” he whispered hoarsely. “You can do whatever you like.”