“My God!” Mary knew how much it meant to her husband to find a witness to provide testimony against Sergio Vitali and to nail his powerful enemy—who had triumphed over him time and again. “That’s terrible.”
“No,” Nick said, walking with his head down. “It’s sickening.”
They left the park through the Metropolitan Museum exit. Passersby greeted Nick, but he didn’t respond. Nick was normally in his element in public, known for having an open ear for anyone, but tonight he looked exhausted. They crossed the street, and Nick signaled the passing taxis.
“I wonder whether Frank has a private life at all,” he said pensively.
Mary smiled and shrugged her shoulders.
The third taxi stopped.
“Christopher is coming home this weekend,” Mary said as the yellow taxi turned from Fifth Avenue onto Eighty-Sixth Street toward Carl Schurz Park, the location of Gracie Mansion.
“Oh,” Nick mumbled, lost in his thoughts, “how nice.”
“He’s bringing his girlfriend.” Mary noticed that her husband wasn’t really listening. “He wants to introduce her to you. You can spend some time with them on the weekend, right?”
“Pardon me?” Nick gave his wife an apologetic look. “I was just thinking about something.”
Mary sighed and patiently repeated what she’d said.
“Chris has a girlfriend?” Nick asked in surprise. “This is the first time I’ve heard about it!”
“That’s why he’s coming to the city,” Mary replied. “Her name is Britney Edwards, and she’s studying art history and philosophy at Harvard. Her family lives somewhere in the Hudson Valley, and her father is a high-ranking officer at West Point.”
“Aha. And how serious is Chris about her?”
“I think he’s very serious. He told me he wants to marry her.”
“Get married?” Nick stared at his wife in irritation.
“Why not?” She laughed. “After all, he’s already twenty-nine. We were already married and had a child at that age.”
“Yes, sure, but…” Nick shook his head. Unbelievable that their boy was already twenty-nine. It felt like his first day of school was just yesterday. How quickly time flies! Christopher was a good kid who had never caused him any trouble. High school, Air Force, and medical school. Now he had a good job at Washington Memorial Hospital—his résumé was exemplary. And he had never reproached Nick for spending so little time with him. He’d never blamed his father for rarely going to the ballpark or the movies like his friends’ fathers did.
“You realize how old you are when you look at your kids,” Nick said and wiped his hand across his face. “I have so many plans for the future, but more and more, I feel that time is running out.”
“You’re not old, my love,” Mary said, grabbing his hand. “You’re a man in his best years.”
“That’s tactful.” Nick’s smile was bitter. “I feel ancient. Everything’s getting harder. I used to be so enthusiastic, so sure that I would be successful. And now…”
He fell silent.
“Don’t take Zuckerman’s death personally.”
“I don’t. It’s just the situation. I’ve failed. It’s not like in the movies where the good guys always win.”
“Are you sure that Vitali is behind this assassination?”
“Yes, I’m pretty sure.” Nick sighed. “Somehow he found out that Zuckerman agreed to testify. And he acted immediately. I blame myself that I pressured this man into cooperating with us. I’m responsible for his death.”
“No, you’re not. He was the one who got involved with criminals.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that he’d still be alive if I hadn’t pushed him to testify.”
The grim expression on her husband’s face made Mary feel queasy. She anticipated that there was more than this man’s death behind his dejection.
“But it was the US Attorney’s Office that decided to keep him in custody,” she said carefully. At least he was talking to her instead of falling into his gloomy silence of recent weeks.
“De Lancie wanted to let him go six months ago.” Nick made a dismissive gesture. “He had no interest in pursuing this. In fact, he seemed uneasy about upholding the charges against Zuckerman.”
“Uneasy? He could have revealed a bribery scandal!”
“That’s exactly what bothers me.” Nick shrugged his shoulders and stared out the window. “It almost seems that this is exactly what de Lancie wanted to prevent.”
Mary cringed.
“Do you think that de Lancie…”
“Yes. I have the suspicion that he’s on Vitali’s payroll.”
“My God, the US attorney?”
“You can buy anyone with enough money.”
“Not you.” Mary touched Nick’s hand, but he didn’t react to her affection. He didn’t feel like being comforted, so she pulled her hand back again.
“Yeah”—Nick laughed unhappily—“Not me. I’m the idiot tilting at windmills. Not only do I have all of the powerful people in the city against me, but worse—I also have a traitor among my ranks.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Vitali found out about Zuckerman’s change of heart within twelve hours. Only the FBI and my people—no one else—knew about it.”
“And de Lancie?”
“I suspected him at first, but he was in Europe and wouldn’t have been informed.”
Mary was taken aback. She remained silent. A traitor among his own ranks—a mole! Now she understood why her husband was so discouraged. He was capable of fighting the enemies he knew without fear, but it was a terrible realization that someone on his staff—a confidant—had been secretly informing the enemy.
“I won’t win this,” Nick said quietly. Mary saw the gloomy expression in his eyes illuminated by the headlights of oncoming traffic. “I’ve won so many times when it seemed impossible, had so many unexpected victories. But this time I’m going to lose. I know it.”
“That’s not true,” she whispered.
“Yes, it is.” He shook his head without looking at her. “They’re stronger. They’ll do everything to destroy me because I’m in their way. I can’t defend myself if they corrupt my closest staff members.”
He sighed wearily. Sometimes he had the feeling that he was bailing water from a sinking ship with a teaspoon. The second he filled a hole, a bigger one opened up somewhere else. He couldn’t have imagined that trying to keep his campaign promises could be so frustrating and hopeless. He certainly could have done the same thing as so many of his predecessors. He could have made deals with people like Vitali, instead of fighting them and wearing himself out in the process. But Nick knew that he wouldn’t be able to look at himself in the mirror if he did that. Many of New York’s prominent individuals from business, finance, or politics had approached him more or less openly, but he categorically rejected anything that could have been misconstrued as a payoff.
Just two weeks ago, he’d had a dispute with Charlie Rosenbaum—one of the city’s biggest real-estate tycoons—at one of those pompous receptions. The party was nothing but a business development meeting disguised as a charity event. Rosenbaum had promised to build a kindergarten in Harlem. When Nick asked him the price of such generosity, Rosenbaum answered that it would be nice if the Department of Buildings could retroactively issue a permit for six additional stories that had been built on top of his new downtown skyscraper “by accident.” This was how things worked in New York, but that’s exactly what had always bothered Nick. The rich got away with everything; laws and prohibitions didn’t apply to them. They put money on the table, and then they could do whatever they pleased. They drove drunk, ignored building codes, cheated, lied, stole, and even killed people.