“Listen to me closely, John,” Nick interrupted de Lancie in a low, threatening voice. “God knows that I have other things to take care of right now, but I won’t stand idle and watch you trying to publicly discredit me.”
“I don’t have a choice—” de Lancie began, but Nick didn’t let him finish his sentence.
“Oh yes you do!” he yelled. “I did the same job as you long enough to know that no one can put you under pressure—especially not the family of a man who was caught in the act of committing a crime—unless someone has leverage against you.”
“What are you saying?” De Lancie’s voice hardened.
“Should I express myself more clearly?” Nick was so enraged that he was about to call de Lancie one of Vitali’s henchmen.
“I warn you, Kostidis,” John de Lancie said, “don’t interfere with things that are none of your business.”
“You were surprisingly fast to show up at the police station yourself. Why didn’t you just send someone from your staff like you usually do?”
De Lancie’s voice became even frostier: “You may be the mayor of this city, and you may be incredibly popular, but I don’t care. What you insinuated is incredibly insolent. I’ve summoned you before the investigation committee; I advise you to show up. Good night!”
“Can I tell you something, Ray?” Nick slammed down the receiver on the hook, grinning ferociously. “This bastard’s scared. Someone is putting him under serious pressure, someone he’s obligated to. I’m sure it’s Vitali.”
“You think that Vitali bought de Lancie?” Howard opened his eyes wide. “The US attorney?”
“Yes, that’s what I think.” Nick ran his hand through his hair. “The only reason he ordered an investigation is to crucify me. It’s a joke! I didn’t speak to a single police officer that night. Nobody but Vitali himself had an interest in this kid’s death. He really would have been more useful alive.”
“They will charge you with slander if you publicly claim that,” Howard warned him.
“I don’t need to do that,” Nick countered. “De Lancie knows that I suspect him of corruption. But he’s losing his nerve. He’ll make a mistake one day. I’ll find out who’s behind this.”
Someone knocked on the door, and Mary entered the office. She saw her husband standing at the window with a grim expression on his face and his hands linked behind his back. He stared out across the river.
“Some of the guests are ready to leave, Nick.”
“I’ll come in a second,” he replied curtly.
“What are you going to do?” Howard asked.
“What do you think?” Nick looked at his assistant suspiciously.
Howard shrugged his shoulders. “You can’t afford too much negative publicity. Will you tolerate their attempt to publicly discredit you?”
“I’m accountable to my constituents and myself.” Nick turned around. “I won’t let the Mob and its paid henchmen throw me off course! Not through an investigation committee, not through extortion, not through threatening letters! I’ve never let myself be intimidated. Vitali should know better than that.”
His burning black eyes seemed to pierce Howard, and blood rushed into Howard’s face.
“This is my city, Ray. Do you understand?”
Howard turned his gaze away. He had mistaken Nick’s aggressive response for weakness, but Nicholas Kostidis was courageous, and he was tough. Tough as steel. He was the best mayor this city had ever had, but he was too straightforward for this job, too stubborn and unwilling to compromise. He stood in the way of influential men—some of whom didn’t care about human life.
“I need to go back to my guests,” Nick said. “Go home, Ray. I’ll see you here tomorrow morning at nine. And then we’ll devise a strategy.”
Howard responded with a smile, but it vanished after the mayor left the room. It was a shame. There were very few men like Nick Kostidis. But now he had really stepped on Vitali’s toes. He had no future; perhaps it would be better to side with someone who did. The letters warned that the mayor of New York didn’t have long to live.
A bright-blue sky arched across the city’s skyline with the promise of another hot day as Alex took a taxi to LaGuardia Airport. The party had left her with a strange feeling. She had long suspected that Nick Kostidis only wanted to use her for his own purposes, but now she wasn’t so sure. Last night, she had gotten to know his likable side, which made her both curious and insecure. She regretted that she couldn’t continue the conversation with Nick; he was certainly more concerned about her than she’d thought. He wasn’t the obsessed fanatic that Sergio claimed he was. He was natural, human. People in New York tended to look at their fellow human beings from the perspective of usefulness. Nick Kostidis was different, and Alex had to admit that she’d gotten him all wrong.
The taxi stopped in front of the airport terminal, and she paid and got out. Her heart tensed up when she saw Oliver standing at the Delta counter. More than a year had passed since she last saw him. Alex mustered all of her courage and walked over to him.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi, Alex.” His gray eyes gazed at her through his round glasses. He seemed just as relaxed and steadfast as ever. All of a sudden, she realized how much she had missed him. She smiled shyly, and he smiled too. He opened his arms, and she flung her arms around his neck.
“Are we okay?” she whispered, and Oliver nodded his head silently. “I’m so sorry about what happened. I had no idea until Mark told me about it.”
“I survived.” Oliver held her tight for a moment, and then he observed her closely. “You look pretty stressed out.”
“I wish I had listened to you,” Alex said, exhaling deeply, “but now I’m in too deep in this mess. Thank you for helping me.”
“I’m not going to let some Mafia thugs intimidate me,” he said, and Alex didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. The fear that had become her constant companion suddenly seemed a little bit more tolerable.
“I missed you, Alex,” Oliver said quietly and cradled her face in his hands, “and I was very worried about you.”
“I missed you, too.” She felt a thick lump in her throat. She quickly wiped away the tears with the back of her hand as she saw Mark walking toward them in the terminal. Oliver grabbed her hand and pressed it firmly. They boarded the flight to Boston at a quarter to nine. During the flight, Oliver explained to Alex and Mark how the incorporation process of an international business worked on the British Virgin Islands and what he hoped to find out with his friend Justin’s help.
At the Boston airport, they took a taxi to the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Justin Savier was waiting for them at the Wiesner Building, a futuristic structure that housed the world-renowned MIT Media Lab. Justin wasn’t the geeky computer nerd that Alex expected but a lean, sunburned man with an abundance of dark dreadlocks. He wore jeans, sneakers, and a washed-out T-shirt. The three men greeted each other, and after Alex was introduced, Justin handed out little plastic name tags. They passed through a turnstile at a security gate, and Alex was astonished to find herself in almost monastically simple corridors. There was no indication that scientists were working on the world’s most advanced technologies behind these doors. They rode an elevator two stories underground; they reached a large anteroom with a steel door that looked like a vault.
“The hallowed halls are behind this door,” Justin declared with reverence. Alex was amazed. “America’s intellectual elite spends half of their lives here. The Western world’s most powerful computers are here—supercomputers worth hundreds of millions of dollars. They’re the heart and the brain of our modern technological world.”