“Let me know if you find out anything new,” Nick said. He was relieved that Alex wasn’t injured, if it actually was her.
“Mr. de Lancie?”
Manhattan’s US attorney pressed the phone receiver between his shoulder and ear. He searched for his glasses and the light switch since he was still half asleep.
“Y…yes,” he cleared his throat. “Who’s calling?”
“This is Massimo Vitali.”
John de Lancie’s drowsiness vanished in an instant, and his heart started pounding.
“Listen, de Lancie,” Massimo Vitali said in a harsh voice, “my brother was arrested last night in the Bronx. I’d like to ask you to make sure that he’s released immediately.”
“I… um… why are you calling me?” John de Lancie didn’t appreciate Massimo’s tone. Furthermore, he was startled that someone besides Sergio Vitali knew about their secret agreement. Vitali was anything but his friend—especially after the Zuckerman affair last year. And de Lancie had only dealt with Sergio himself so far, which is why he preferred to play dumb. This call could actually be a trap.
“My father was shot an hour ago,” Massimo continued. “So I can hardly bother him with this. We need your help. My brother must not go to jail, do you understand?”
“What am I supposed to do? I’m sure you have a lawyer who—”
“I know that you owe my father a favor,” Massimo interrupted him rudely. Apparently, he had no time to be polite. The wheels started turning in de Lancie’s brain. How could he possibly show up at the precinct in the middle of the night and release a man who had been arrested for perpetrating a crime? After all, his job was to do the opposite.
“I’ll see what I can do,” he replied and hung up. Less than thirty seconds later, the telephone rang again. It was one of the junior attorneys from de Lancie’s office confirming what Massimo just said. An apartment building had been raided. One police officer was wounded, and one of the gangsters was dead. Vitali’s son was among those arrested, and the Forty-First Precinct had requested someone from the US Attorney’s Office. John de Lancie found himself between a rock and a hard place. He was obliged to Vitali, but it would be extremely difficult for him to help in this situation without exposing himself. He’d promised Vitali his assistance, but he’d always pulled strings in the background. On the other hand, nothing much could happen to him. Most likely no one would notice yet another unsolved shooting in the South Bronx—such incidents were the order of the day. There was hardly a reporter who’d get up on a rainy night to wait for an arrest in the infamous Forty-First Precinct.
“I’ll go there myself,” he said to his staffer—who seemed astonished. “It’s better if I take care of this personally. The press is sensitive at the moment when it comes to Vitali, and we can’t afford any mistakes.”
Lieutenant Patrick Peters broke out in a cold sweat.
“I can’t do this,” he said quietly. “It’s impossible.”
“You’ll find a way.” Luca di Varese didn’t smile. “Here’s three grand. There’ll be more when it’s done.”
The police officer swallowed. Luca didn’t like this, but his boss’s order during their ride back from Brooklyn that day some weeks ago had been crystal clear. Vitali suspected Cesare would sing like a nightingale in jail out of fear and cowardice. The boss was willing to sacrifice his son to protect his business. This scenario had now come to pass. Sergio Vitali was too incapacitated to make a decision, so it fell to Luca to execute his order. Massimo, Silvio, and van Mieren mustn’t know about this. After a moment’s hesitation, Lieutenant Peters accepted the bundle of bills.
“You want him…dead, if I understood you correctly?” he whispered.
“That’s right.” Luca nodded, his face a mask. He turned around, left the parking lot of the Forty-First Precinct without anyone seeing him, and headed back to Long Island.
Captain Tremell reported on the previous night’s incidents.
“Vitali Junior spilled the beans,” he said in a low voice.
Nick couldn’t believe it.
“It seems that he was part of all this by coincidence,” Tremell continued. “These thugs raided and set fire to the building by the order of someone named Silvio Bacchiocchi. This guy Bacchiocchi is Vitali’s strongman; we’ve known this for a while. He’s got a few prior convictions, but small stuff; that’s why we’ve got him in our computer system.”
“Which means that there’s a connection to Vitali,” Nick stated. He had a hard time remaining calm.
“Well,” Lucas Morgan said, nodding slowly, “we already have a warrant for Bacchiocchi, and we’re going to ask him some questions. Vitali Junior gave us some information that Bacchiocchi needs to rebut, for starters.”
“And this kid revealed all of this just like that?” Nick asked in disbelief.
“No, not just like that.” Tremell coughed slightly in embarrassment. “My men are very upset. One of their colleagues was gunned down during the bust. They grilled Vitali pretty hard, and then he… hmm… came clean.”
“A forced confession,” Morgan cut in, “is useless in court.”
“That doesn’t matter,” Nick responded vehemently. “Most important, we have a connection to Vitali.”
There was a knock at the door.
“Captain,” the lieutenant on duty said. “Vitali’s lawyer is here demanding the kid be released on bail.”
“No bail’s been set yet,” Tremell replied. “He won’t be arraigned until tomorrow morning.”
“This guy is enraged, sir.” The lieutenant frowned. “He’s screaming that this is unlawful detention and coercion.”
“Tell him that we’re allowed to keep Vitali in custody for twenty-four hours. There’s reasonable suspicion of trespassing, arson, battery, armed resistance, and who the hell knows what else. He’s going to remain in his holding cell until he appears before the judge in the morning.”
“Okay, sir.” The lieutenant disappeared again.
“How the hell does the lawyer already know that we’ve arrested the kid?” Tremell was pissed off. “We’ve ordered a complete news blackout!”
“If the reporters already know about it…” Morgan said.
“Vitali’s reach extends even into the Forty-First Precinct,” Nick said and sighed. Someone had informed Cesare’s father—either one of the officers or even one of the police commissioners. The payees on Vitali’s list of friends were everywhere. Not only in the police department, but also at city hall.
Captain Tremell, Lucas Morgan, Nick, and Frank walked toward the booking room. They could hear excited voices from a distance. It was Vitali’s lawyer arguing with some officers, but the sergeant on duty wasn’t having it. Three officers stood at the door blocking the reporters from storming the building.
“I demand,” Vitali’s lawyer screamed, “to see my client immediately! He has the right to legal representation!”
Nick stopped.
“Hi, Nelson,” he said calmly. “Why are you so agitated?”
Van Mieren turned around quickly, staring at Nick in astonishment. But he quickly regained his composure.
“Ah, Mayor Kostidis!” he exclaimed. He had the sonorous voice of a defense lawyer projecting to the farthest corners of even the largest courtrooms. “I should have expected I’d find you here!”