“I certainly won’t,” he replied.
“Damn it!” Tension was etched into the US marshal’s face. “I don’t want to argue with you! Do what you want!”
Frank objected, but Nick wasn’t listening. “Nick, maybe we really should—”
Nick’s dark eyes were black with fear. He felt like charging past the officers. At that moment, the private ward’s glass door was flung open, and a young nurse came out screaming.
“Dr. Walters!” she screamed. “Dr. Walters is dead!”
Spooner and Khazaeli ran past her, with Nick and Frank following. In front of the nurses’ station a collapsible stretcher held a man whose eyes were wide open. Blood dripped from his half-closed mouth onto the light-gray linoleum floor. Terrified doctors and nurses were shouting hysterically and some were crying. Frank, who couldn’t stand the sight of blood, fought his nausea and turned away.
“Which room is Sontheim in?” Deputy Spooner yelled at Nick.
“Sixteen,” Nick whispered. His heart was racing: his mind refused to accept what seemed obvious after seeing the murdered doctor. Vitali had heard that Alex was still alive and didn’t hesitate. His killers had already finished their bloody job. Ginnie Summer was suddenly standing in front of him. Her usually friendly face looked shocked, terrified.
“Nick!” she shouted in a shrill voice, grabbing his arm. “What’s going on here?” Who did this?”
“I…I don’t know.” His watched as the two marshals as they ran down the hallway, then returned his gaze to the dead doctor. He didn’t want to know what had just happened in room 16. He didn’t want to see Alex’s body riddled with bullets. He had failed once again. Hadn’t he promised that he would protect her?
“Nick…” Frank touched his arm, and the mayor flinched.
“Mr. Kostidis!” Deputy Spooner shouted at the same moment and waved to him.
“No,” Nick whispered, “please, please don’t…”
The few steps to the door of Alex’s room felt like miles to Nick. But he registered that Spooner looked relieved; soon he was staring uncomprehendingly at a bed riddled with bullets.
“Someone stuffed blankets and pillows beneath the bedding,” Deputy Khazaeli explained. “The killers probably thought it was a human body and blazed away at it.”
“But where is she?” Nick whispered.
“Here,” Spooner said, “she seems to be okay.”
Alex cowered on the floor of the adjoining small bathroom, her arms wrapped around her knees, staring at him with wide, frightened eyes. When she realized it was Nick, she silently extended her arms, and he fell on his knees in front of her. His relief was overwhelming as Alex flung her arms around his neck and pressed her face against his chest.
“I’m so sorry,” Nick whispered in a tearful voice. “I’m so sorry. I promised that you would be safe here.”
“Please get me out of here.”
“I will,” Nick said as he stroked her hair. “Don’t cry—everything will be all right.”
Gordon Engels accompanied them out to the hallway with five US marshals.
“Is she all right?” he inquired.
“Yes,” Nick replied, “but what about your people who were supposed to guard her?”
“They’re both dead,” Engels said, his expression frozen. “I don’t know yet how it happened, but they were both shot in the neck just like the doctor. We found their bodies in the laundry room.”
Nick felt Alex shudder in his arms.
“I know who shot them,” she whispered. “I was just about to leave the room. I don’t know why, but I had a really strange feeling. Then I saw the doctor standing in the hallway with two paramedics. One of them suddenly pulled out a gun, and from behind, he shot the doctor in the head. I knew they were here for me because I recognized them.”
She started sobbing.
“Who were they?” Nick asked in soft voice.
“Sergio’s closest men. Luca di Varese. Silvio Bacchiocchi.”
The bloody murders at Goldwater Memorial Hospital dominated news broadcasts that day. Camera teams from all over the country besieged the hospital building. Gordon Engels decided to disseminate false information in order to protect Alex. He announced to the waiting television reporters and journalists that unidentified perpetrators who fled the scene had shot two police officers, a doctor, and a hospital patient for no apparent reason. Engels assumed that both perpetrators wouldn’t go into hiding because they believed they were unidentified; he knew they’d be arrested the following evening. Nick took Alex to the St. Ignatius monastery. She’d be safe behind the Jesuit monastery’s fortresslike walls.
Alex wore a gray hooded sweatshirt and jeans. Her hair was tied in a simple ponytail. Traces of terrible abuse were still clearly visible on her face. For the questioning by the US attorneys, the Jesuit fathers provided a large room, empty save for a table and chairs. Punctually at seven in the morning, Lloyd Connors and Royce Shepard from the US Attorney’s Office arrived at the monastery accompanied by Gordon Engels and Truman McDeere. Nick and Frank Cohen were there of course, and Nick felt a sting in his heart as Alex entered the room accompanied by Oliver Skerritt. He had his arm protectively around her shoulders and only reluctantly let go of her when the questioning commenced. The deputy US attorney introduced himself and his colleagues and then asked Alex if she had any objections to them recording the conversation on tape.
“Ms. Sontheim,” Lloyd Connors began, “because of the urgency of this situation, we’ve decided to postpone the questioning by the SEC. Mr. Kostidis told me that you waive your right to legal representation. Is that correct?”
“Yes.” Alex’s voice sounded firm. She sat upright, her hands placed on the table in front of her, looking at the deputy US attorney attentively.
Connors cleared his throat. “The sole purpose of today’s questioning is to compile evidence of Mr. Sergio Vitali’s involvement in this bribery affair. You could potentially serve as the prosecution’s key witness should there be a court trial. At this point, you may be the only person testifying. Please tell us briefly about your job at LMI.”
Alex nodded and gave them the information they needed. She recounted Levy’s propositions. She recalled all of the deals she had closed for LMI, and identified those from which Levy and Vitali illegally profited, with the help of St. John. She told them about the first time that she suspected someone was conducting secret deals with her information behind her back, and she described the trap that she’d set for St. John with Syncrotron. She made no secret of her relationship with Vitali. Then she told them about the birthday party at his house in Mount Kisco, where she accidentally overheard the conversation between Sergio and the man with the yellow eyes. Truman McDeere frowned, but he remained silent. Alex spoke in an emotionless voice, never averting her eyes from Connors.
“What can you tell us about the night Mr. Vitali was shot?”
“Everything,” she said. “I was there.”
Alex told them how Nick had warned her that afternoon about Sergio’s conflict with the Colombian drug cartel. She gave a detailed description of the assassination attempt and described the warehouse in Brooklyn where she’d been taken. Gordon Engels had been silent until then, but he asked a few questions.
Finally, Connors asked her to tell them how she became aware of the corruption conspiracy. Alex drank a sip of water and then recounted her inquiries and how they all led to dubious stock purchases through an investment firm called MPM. She told them about her trip to MIT, where she learned about the secret accounts on Grand Cayman and Vitali’s involvement in MPM. The deputy US attorney appeared to be satisfied with her statement.