“I promised my constituents I’d make New York a more honest place,” he had replied to Rosenbaum. “I intend to keep this promise.”
“What’s dishonest about the deal that I’m proposing?” Rosenbaum’s eyes were wide in fake surprise. “I treat the city to a beautiful new kindergarten that’s modern, bright, and equipped with all the bells and whistles. This is great publicity for both you and me. In return, I get a retroactive permit. Tax-paying businesses will move into those six stories. There are only benefits for the city. Who really cares whether a skyscraper has a hundred and sixteen or a hundred and twenty-two stories?”
“It’s the principle.”
“The principle! Nick! The city needs private investors because it’s broke. I invest, but I expect consideration in return. That’s how business works. No one can live on charity alone.”
“That’s bribery.”
Rosenbaum’s face took on a sinister expression.
“An evil word for such a good deed. It would provide a safe place for many children who’d just be hanging out in the street and smoking crack in a few years, and then becoming criminals.”
It was all too tempting! The city’s coffers were indeed chronically empty, and a new kindergarten in the South Bronx or Harlem was simply not feasible due to a lack of municipal funds.
“Charlie,” Nick said, “how can I get you this permit without my constituents accusing me of being an opportunist? Of course, I would love to have a new and beautiful kindergarten that doesn’t cost the city anything, but I can’t just walk into the Department of Buildings and say, Hey, Mr. Rosenbaum has built six more stories than originally planned on his building. He’s very sorry, but now he needs a permit even if you rejected it during the planning stage.”
“You’re the mayor, Nick. You can do this.”
“I can’t do it without losing face in the process. I’m sorry.”
“I’ll get the permit. It’s only a question of time, and it will cost me a lot of money. Money that I’d rather spend on a kindergarten than on lawyers and appraisers.”
“I can’t do it.”
Rosenbaum shrugged his shoulders with a thin smile on his face.
“I’ve always taken you for an intelligent man. But apparently I was mistaken. You’re harming this city with your stubbornness and unwillingness to compromise. The financiers and investors will go somewhere else. To a place where they are welcomed with open arms and a good deed isn’t considered bribery.”
Rosenbaum had expressed his opinion more clearly than anyone before him, and Nick painfully realized for the first time that because of his strict morality, perhaps he wasn’t the right person for this job. For the benefit of the city and its citizens, he would have been forced to agree with him and forget his black-and-white thinking. Hundreds of children would benefit from this new kindergarten, and it probably wouldn’t bother anyone that a new skyscraper turned out to be a bit taller than initially planned and permitted. Nevertheless, if he accepted this bargain just once, then he wouldn’t be able to say no the next time. He’d once called his predecessors “the establishment’s corrupt puppets.” The people of New York had voted for him because he promised to be different.
“It’s a shame,” Rosenbaum said. “I thought that you’d been around long enough to understand that you won’t get anywhere with these small-minded policies. You’ll go down in history as the mayor who ruined this city with his exaggerated moral standards.”
Nick had mulled over Rosenbaum’s words ever since. Serious doubts about his approach had tormented him. He lay awake at nights thinking, but Nick ultimately decided that he couldn’t compromise if he wanted to stay true to himself.
The taxi stopped at Gracie Mansion, and Nick paid the driver. The security guards saluted the mayor and his wife politely. They were used to seeing Nick taking taxis or the subway, rather than traveling by private car. Mary and Nick silently strolled toward the house, which looked like a Southern mansion, with its surrounding veranda and white railings. The fragrance of lilac mixed in the air with that of the roses. The foliage was so thick and dark that the driveway seemed narrow. It was a beautiful night.
But Mary’s search for comfort in the beauty of the garden was in vain. Her husband walked next to her like he was a stranger, with his hands buried deep in his pockets and his eyes downcast. She was desperately searching for the right words to liberate him from this mood that she knew all too well. Recently, he suffered from these bouts of melancholy more often. He closed himself off, and he got this empty, bitter look on his face, which hurt Mary very much.
“Nick,” she said. She couldn’t take his silence anymore. Moths were flitting around the streetlight, and the unceasing sounds of the city could be heard as a muted mumbling from the distance.
“Yes?” He avoided looking into her eyes.
“It hurts me to see you so desperate and discouraged. You’ve always kept fighting no matter how hopeless the situation seemed. You can’t give up now!”
Nick didn’t answer.
“I love you,” Mary said softly. “I don’t give a damn what other people say.”
Nick was silent and shook his head.
“I have to accept that I’m not the right man for this job.”
“But that’s nonsense! You’re the best mayor this city ever had!”
Nick’s gaze, helpless and scornful at the same time, hit Mary like a slap in the face. He laughed mockingly. “Well, at least one person thinks so.”
Then he turned and quickly walked to the house. Mary followed him slowly. He had never rebuffed her this harshly before. Tears burned in her eyes, and a lump rose in her throat. He was distancing himself from her, and she couldn’t understand why.
The next morning, Nick Kostidis passed the gate and assured the two security guards—as he had done so many times before—that he was quite capable of getting downtown himself. He walked along Eighty-Sixth Street to the subway station at the corner of Lexington Avenue. He rushed down the stairs with quick steps, just barely catching the downtown express train, and sat down on an empty seat in the very last car. At this early hour on a Sunday morning, the subway was deserted save for a few early-rising tourists. The train rattled and raced through the dark tunnels, flying past the brightly lit local stations.
Nick leaned back and closed his eyes. He’d hardly slept last night. He woke up drenched in sweat from a nightmare at four in the morning. He couldn’t remember the details, but he could still feel the dream’s sensation of powerlessness. Until the crack of dawn, he’d lain awake in his bed wondering which one of his employees was double-crossing him. Who knew that Zuckerman was brought to that hotel and that he had agreed to testify against Vitali?
The train came to a screeching halt and the doors opened, just to close again seconds later with a pneumatic sigh. Coming out under the blue sky at City Hall Park, he squinted into the bright August sun. He stopped for a short moment and looked at his office building with a mixture of pride and resignation.
Thinking about how many mayors before him had tried to govern this incomparable city more or less successfully since 1821 filled him with awe and respect, as it always did. At the same time, he felt that the arrogant proximity of the modern glass-and-steel skyscrapers towering so mightily above city hall was symbolic. The people sitting in these skyscrapers—the banks and corporations with ruthless men at their helms—held the true power over this city.
Nick Kostidis sighed and walked up the steps to city hall. A horde of press people lurked in the entrance hall, immediately storming toward him when they saw him coming. They had somehow heard he would be there.