Somewhere in her clothes, which she had carelessly tossed on the floor, her cell phone started ringing. She jumped up, rummaged through her clothing, and found it in her coat pocket, under the armchair. To her surprise, it was Madeleine Ross-Downey. Alex walked out on the terrace. Madeleine apologized for calling so early, but she had to travel to the West Coast for three days and wanted to say hello before she forgot. She thanked Alex again for her courageous intervention and invited her to dinner at their home that Friday evening. Some other friends were also coming, and it would be a casual evening, but she and Trevor would be delighted if she could join them.
Alex’s first impulse was to excuse herself, since she almost always turned down invitations, but she had instantly liked Madeleine and her husband. Furthermore, the thought of getting to know some friends of Sergio’s enemy Kostidis intrigued her. When she turned around, she saw Sergio standing in the open terrace door.
“It was Madeleine Ross-Downey,” Alex said. “She invited me to come to her apartment on Friday evening.”
“Really?” Sergio raised his eyebrows. “How did you achieve this honor?”
Alex told him about the incident at the museum two days before.
“Unbelievable.” Sergio looked at her with a mixture of amazement and amusement. “You charged two street thugs with your bare hands? I should hire you as my bodyguard.” He grinned.
“Don’t mock me,” Alex said, annoyed. “I could hardly pretend I didn’t see anything.”
“I’m not mocking you,” Sergio answered. “I really mean it! There aren’t many people who would do the same. I’m sure Trevor was happy nothing happened to his Maddy.”
“Yes, he certainly was. I also visited their home that night. Do you know the Downeys?”
“Of course. I know everyone in the city.”
Anyone else would have sounded arrogant making this kind of statement, but Sergio was simply stating a fact.
“Do you like them?”
“Madeleine is really a magnificent singer—I admire her art very much,” he replied, but then his voice filled with contempt. “On the other hand, Trevor Downey is weak and spoiled. He lucked into a department-store chain because his older brother who inherited the business was a hemophiliac and passed away at twenty. Moreover, he is a close friend of our highly esteemed Mayor Kostidis.”
“I hate it when you’re so sarcastic.” Alex noted the mocking glint in his eyes.
“And I hate it when you think about business while you lie in bed with me,” Sergio responded.
“To tell the truth, I wasn’t thinking about business,” she said quietly.
“Then why did you say that?”
“Because…” She fought with herself for a moment and avoided looking at him. “Because I didn’t want to admit that I was thinking last night was one of the most beautiful nights of my life.”
Sergio didn’t respond. He walked back to the bedroom to get dressed. She followed him, annoyed by his silence.
“Do you want to know why I didn’t tell you the truth?” she asked, trying to restrain the angry tremble in her voice.
“Yes.” He sat on the edge of the bed while tying his shoelaces.
“Because I was afraid that you would react exactly like this. With no reaction at all. You expect honesty from me and don’t say a single word yourself.”
A shadow drifted across Sergio’s face, and when he looked up again he had dropped his mask. He was attentive and tense, and he looked surprisingly vulnerable. He grabbed her wrists.
“Alex,” he said softly, “are you really being honest with me?”
She hesitated. She had an opening to confess that she’d had an affair with Oliver because she was jealous and angry. She could choose this moment to tell him the details about Oliver’s accusations that had caused her doubts. And she could admit how much she longed for his love and his trust. But she was afraid to let her guard down, and so she let this opportunity pass by.
“I think,” she answered instead, “that I’m as honest with you as you are with me.”
Sergio sighed. He let go of her wrists and stood up. “Well then, let’s leave it at that,” he said. “But I can tell you one thing in all honesty: it was a wonderful night. I enjoyed it very much.”
August 15, 1999
Sergio Vitali entered his office at the VITAL Building. His oldest son Massimo and his lawyer Nelson van Mieren were already waiting for him. He smiled briefly when they wished him a happy birthday, and then he sat down behind his desk.
“So?” he asked, looking at his son. Massimo was courageous and intelligent, but his uncontrollable violent temper led him to make mistakes time and again. Fortunately, his screwups had not yet triggered any major consequences. “We have a problem at the port,” Massimo said without introduction. “Johnnie Craven—president of the dockworkers’ union—isn’t keeping his end of the bargain.”
“What did he do?”
“A shipment from Germany arrived yesterday—Russian Kalashnikovs and control mechanisms for ICBMs. They were declared as ‘cooling units’ as usual. Craven normally makes sure that the stuff clears customs, but yesterday he didn’t.”
“Did you talk to him?”
“Yes.” Massimo leaned forward. “He claims that his people somehow forgot to keep the customs officers from boarding. But he lied to me. It’s no one’s fault but his. That’s what we pay him for, and not too shabbily at that!”
“Go on…”
“Ficchiavelli was listed as the delivery address. The cops searched all the warehouses. We were lucky that the last shipment was already out for delivery, so they didn’t find anything. I claimed that they must have mixed up the cargo in Germany.”
“Nelson?” Sergio looked at his lawyer.
“They can’t prove that the weapons were meant for us. The shipping documents for the cooling units were okay. But we do have a problem in that the Port Authority Police has involved the FBI and confiscated the entire shipment.”
“Where was the delivery headed?”
“Houston.” Massimo clenched his fist. “Tommasino was mad as hell when I told him that we can’t deliver for at least three more weeks. Not only has a two-and-a-half-million-dollar deal gone down the drain, it looks as if we might also get into trouble with the dockworkers’ union.”
“Can we reason with Craven?”
“No. He said that he wouldn’t let himself be bossed around by fucking wops.”
“Is that so?” Sergio raised his eyebrows. “Then let’s not waste our time with him. Who is second in command after Craven?”
“His name is Michael Burns. He’s the up-and-coming man. The dockworkers have a lot of respect for him. And it also appears that we owe this disturbance to him.”
“Can this man be persuaded?”
Massimo understood what his father meant and shook his head.
“He’s Irish, Papa.”
“Hmm.” Sergio thought for a moment. The port was strategically important, and they couldn’t face the risk of losing more valuable shipments. Above all, they needed the port for drug imports from Colombia and the Far East. They could hardly afford any trouble.
“Do we have a reliable man on the docks?”
“Yes.” Massimo nodded. “Angelo Lanza, Giuseppe Lanza’s nephew. He’s a good man.”