“How is that?” Nick squinted at the police commissioner. “Because I prevented de Lancie from covering up this incident as quickly as possible?”
“That’s not your job anymore,” Harding replied vehemently. “Do you know what Vitali will do once he finds out that you’ve slandered him?”
Nick jumped up. “I don’t give a damn what he does. I represent my city’s interests, since nobody else cares to. The US attorney only cared about Cesare Vitali’s well-being on Saturday night. He didn’t say a single word about the injured police officer or the endangered citizens. It almost seemed he was trying to sweep these incidents under the rug, and I have to ask myself why. What interest would Mr. de Lancie have in protecting the reputation of someone like Vitali? I have the same question for you, Jerome. Why do you care what Vitali thinks?”
Harding’s face turned a deeper shade of red, but Nick continued, unperturbed.
“There are stacks of files on Vitali in the basement of the US Attorney’s Office. Everyone knows that, but we can’t prove any wrongdoings. Now we have a tiny chance to convict him of a crime. I won’t allow some corrupt bureaucrat to destroy this opportunity.”
“Be careful, Mayor Kostidis.” Harding’s voice was reduced to a threatening whisper. “What are you trying to suggest with that comment?”
“What am I trying to suggest?” Nick stopped just a few inches before the gigantic police commissioner, who was at least a head taller than him. “I have the suspicion that there are many influential people on Vitali’s payroll. Because of their silence, he’s in a position to do what he wants. I won’t tolerate the Mob ruling my city any longer, and I hope that you agree with me, Jerome.”
Harding stared at him and took a deep breath. But then he ran his hand through his dense white hair and sighed. Suddenly, his anger seemed to have blown over.
“You’re right,” he finally said, and let himself fall into a leather chair at the conference table. “The city is as corrupt as it’s ever been. We’re tilting at windmills. But the way you’re doing it won’t work.”
“Yes, it will,” Nick disagreed. “It’s the only way. We must publicly denounce this corruption. No politician will dare to side with a man like Vitali. His political network is paralyzed, at least for now.”
The police commissioner was silent.
“Jerome!” Nick looked at him imploringly. “This is my job, my struggle. I won’t capitulate because of convenience or fear and look the other way like so many others do. I want to put a stop to Sergio Vitali’s game.”
“When he’s gone another man will take his place,” Harding said, frowning. “It’ll never end. You know that as well as I do.”
Someone knocked on the door, and Frank Cohen entered the room.
“They caught the guy who tried to kill Vitali. It’s on the news right now. He’s even confessed.”
Harding and the mayor jumped to their feet.
“They say he was a former bodyguard of Vitali’s who wanted revenge.”
“Not the Colombian drug cartel, Nick,” Harding said disdainfully. “Just a frustrated ex-bodyguard.”
Nick didn’t answer and shook his head in silence.
“In case you should need me, I’ll be at police headquarters,” the police commissioner said. “I should take care of this matter personally before even more damage is done.”
Harding had barely left the office when Nick turned on the television. He and Frank silently watched a report about the alleged perpetrator’s arrest.
“Isn’t it strange,” Frank said, “that this guy turns himself in to the police and confesses even though they weren’t even searching for him? That’s too good to be true.”
“Simple solutions always make me suspicious.” Nick furrowed his brow in thought. “Four days after a sizeable amount of cocaine was seized due to an anonymous tip, someone makes an attempt on Vitali’s life. We know from our informants that a war is in the making between the Colombian drug cartel and the local crime syndicate. Then three men are shot dead at the port—all of them Italian—who, if we dug deeper, would surely turn out to be Vitali’s men.”
He turned off the television.
“Vitali has disappeared. He must have been wounded, and that’s why we haven’t seen or heard from him. Damn it, all of this is related. But everyone else refuses to believe it.”
“How could this guy drive the car and shoot a Kalashnikov through the open window at the same time?”
Frank shook his head.
“It seems to me that there are people who would prefer for all of this to simply disappear,” Nick said. “This whole thing is—”
The telephone rang, and he pushed the button of the intercom system.
“It’s Eugene Varelli,” Allie said, “and he says it’s urgent.”
Eugene Varelli was the New York State commissioner of health.
“Hello, Nick,” he said. “I’m sorry to bother you, but it looks like we have a serious problem on our hands.”
“Great.” Nick rolled his eyes. He put the telephone on speaker so that Frank could listen in. “What kind of problem is it this time?”
“The FBI tried calling but couldn’t reach you. I said I’d call myself. We received an anonymous threat in the mail today, so my people didn’t take it seriously,” Varelli said, “but then I received a phone call about an hour ago. A man threatened to infect groceries with anthrax spores. He named the addresses of two stores in Queens and Morningside Heights. He allegedly infected some Freezo brand frozen hamburger patties. I’ve sent some people there to check all possibly affected products.”
“Great.”
“The FBI is taking this threat pretty seriously, Nick. The man didn’t sound like a nutcase. Furthermore, he made precise demands and announced that he wanted to make it public.”
“What are his demands?”
“Three million dollars to a numbered offshore account. And…”
“And what?”
“Your resignation.”
“He doesn’t want me to personally hand over the money, does he?”
“I don’t think sarcasm is appropriate in this situation,” Varelli replied stiffly. “How should we proceed?”
Nick threw a glance at Frank and then sighed.
“Inform the police and the US Department of Health.”
“Okay.”
“Oh, and Eugene,” Nick said. “Keep me posted.”
He hung up. It was silent for a moment, and then Nick leaped out of his chair.
“Sergio Vitali is calling in the cavalry,” he said. “I’d bet my right hand that this act of terrorism is just a diversion to get Cesare’s death and the assassination attempt out of the headlines.”
Frank looked concerned.
“And what if this is a genuine terrorist?”
Nick grinned wearily. “Then I’ll resign and spend the rest of my life playing golf and fly-fishing. And I won’t turn around to look at Sodom and Gomorrah. That I swear to you, Frank.”
Naturally, the anthrax story was leaked to the press in spite of being highly classified information. The public’s reaction bordered on hysteria, and the media did its part to fuel the panic. The press focused on the anonymous terrorist and his strange demands. Old documentaries that had gathered dust in the TV station’s archives were dug up showing people who had been infected with anthrax. There were reports about how dangerous anthrax was, and interviews with any obscure expert they could find confirming that the disease would lead to certain death within two to three days. All of the Freezo brand products in the city were confiscated, which in turn led to vehement protests by the company’s management. The FBI checked laboratories across the country in order to find out where the pathogen could possibly have originated. The mayor established a crisis committee and a hotline where concerned citizens could get more information. The telephones rang off the hook, and many families decided that it would be better to visit distant relatives outside the city.