“Alex!”
It was Mark, and he sounded unusually agitated.
“Please answer if you’re there! It’s urgent!”
Alex quickly wrapped a towel around herself and grabbed the phone.
“Hey, Mark. What’s so important?”
“Can we meet for dinner tonight?” Mark asked. “We’ve figured out a way to—”
“Hold on!” Alex interrupted. She still feared that Sergio had tapped her telephone line.
“I’ll call you back on my cell phone in a second.” Punching Mark’s number into her cell phone, she stepped out on to the terrace. She’d been invited to Gracie Mansion that evening. Just as Kostidis had promised, she’d received a written invitation. She accepted it after some consideration and also because of Madeleine’s insistence.
“What’s up?” she asked when Mark answered.
“Maybe it would be better not to discuss this over the telephone.” Mark spoke hastily. “Could you fly to Boston with me tonight?”
“No, I’m invited to Gracie Mansion this evening,” Alex replied. “Come on, Mark, tell me. What’s going on?”
“Oliver thinks that it’s virtually impossible to get legal access to the registration documents of an offshore company,” Mark said, “but he had an idea yesterday. We know someone from our college days who works at MIT in Boston. This guy is a real computer geek.”
“Slow down.” Alex shook her head in confusion. “What does this guy have to do with offshore companies?”
“Nothing. But he’s a professional hacker. He works as a programmer at MIT, where he tests the security of software. Oliver’s talked to him over the phone and discussed the problem—without mentioning any names, of course. Our friend knows how to infiltrate computers.” Mark lowered his voice to an excited whisper.
Alex began to understand.
“That sounds pretty illegal.”
“It’s also illegal to trade on insider information.”
Alex contemplated this for a moment. It seemed like this could work. And if it failed, then they’d at least have given it a try.
“We could fly to Boston tomorrow morning,” Mark pushed. Alex felt her heart beating in excitement. She needed to know who was behind these rotten deals. On the other hand, she was afraid of what she might uncover. But her curiosity was ultimately stronger than her fear.
“Book an early flight to Boston,” she said after a short pause. “Leave me a message on my cell phone about when I need to be at the airport. Will Oliver come with us?”
“I think so. If you’re okay with that.”
“For heaven’s sake, yes!” Alex was worried about spending time with Oliver, but she still looked forward to seeing him again.
“I’ll stay in touch. Have fun tonight.”
Alex drove with Trevor and Madeleine to the mayor’s reception. Security guards checked their invitations and then let them pass through the gate. The colonial-style mansion was in a magnificent park at the East River, nestled between tall, old trees. Since Mayor Fiorello LaGuardia chose this house as his residence in 1942, it had become a tradition for every successor to live here. Alex felt her heart pounding when she entered the house. She wasn’t quite sure whether or not she liked Nick Kostidis, and she also didn’t know whether it was a good idea to accept his invitation. In the foyer, Kostidis rushed toward them with open arms and a hearty smile.
“My wife and I are extremely happy that you’re our guest tonight, Alex,” he said with sincere cordiality.
“It’s an honor and pleasure for me,” she replied politely.
Through the wide-open glass doors, they stepped out onto a large terrace that offered a magnificent view of the East River. Alex met Christopher—Nick and Mary Kostidis’s son—and his fiancée Britney Edwards. Then Kostidis introduced other guests such as Canadian ambassador Jacques Toussaint and his wife Véronique; Patrick Grimford, the legendary publisher of the New York Times; Hollywood actor Michael Campione, who lived in Tribeca; fashion czar Kevin Lang; and Francis Dulong, who was a senior partner of the prestigious law firm Dulong & Kirschbaum.
Alex enjoyed lively conversation. It was wonderful to talk with interesting people and forget about her worries for a while. There were champagne cocktails and Japanese hors d’oeuvres offered to the guests by a liveried waiter. After the sticky July day, the mild evening air added to Alex’s good mood.
Mary Kostidis was an unobtrusive and courteous host. Alex liked her right away. They talked for a long time, and Alex sensed the trust and deep connection between her and Nick that can only result from true love, similar to that shared by the Downeys. She shivered, imagining what it would be like to actually marry Sergio Vitali. At the very least, she would stop receiving invitations to Gracie Mansion. During dinner—which was served in one of the splendid salons, with wide-open terrace doors—Alex sat between Kevin Lang and Michael Campione.
Around eleven, the Canadian ambassador and his wife said their good-byes, which lightened the atmosphere, making it less formal and more sociable. All of the people present seemed to know each other fairly well, and the party moved to a different salon with comfortable sofas and armchairs. Alex was talking to Trevor, Madeleine, Michael Campione, Francis Dulong, and his wife when Nick Kostidis joined them.
“The only possible reason for me to consider running for mayor of New York would be this house,” Trevor said jokingly.
“Really?” Nick replied. “Actually, to be honest with you, it was an important reason for me. And hey, you don’t have to mow your own lawn.”
Everyone laughed. Alex found the mayor was downright likable when he was relaxed like this.
“I hope you’re having a good time.”
“I really am. It’s a highly enjoyable evening.” She smiled.
“Would you like a drink?”
“Yes, I’d love another.”
Nick waved a waiter over to fill Alex’s glass with champagne.
“Let’s go outside for a moment to get some fresh air,” Nick suggested, and Alex agreed. They stepped out onto the terrace. It was a mild, warm night. It almost felt like being in the countryside. The city’s lights sparkled on the river’s ink-black water, and there was a scent of lilac and sweet fading flowers in the air.
“Wonderful.” Alex stepped toward the railing of the terrace, taking a deep breath. “It’s hard to believe that we’re in the middle of New York City.”
“Do you sometimes miss your homeland?” Nick Kostidis asked as he stood behind her. She turned around. He had one hand in his pocket and held his glass with the other, observing her with friendly interest.
“Sometimes I miss certain places where I spent my childhood.” She smiled. “Have you ever been to Germany?”
“Unfortunately not,” Nick replied with regret. “Actually, I’ve never even been to Europe.”
“I spent almost all of my holidays with relatives in France or Ticino,” Alex told him. “My family is large. We have uncles, aunts, and cousins everywhere. I especially liked to go to the mountains in the winter. They’re…one of a kind. Just before the first snow falls, the air is as clear as glass. And when you get up in the morning, the entire countryside is white. And the icy winds really push the snow around on the ground. You don’t really feel the seasons in the city.”
She looked pensively into the park’s darkness.
“I miss the smell of fall—the scent of the moist earth and decaying leaves and the fire. Sometimes in Germany the sky is high and wide, and then it’s all foggy again. In the spring, I clearly remember the feeling I had the first time I could go horseback riding outside and gallop across the meadows after a dark winter. I was so happy.”