“Yes, it is. I didn’t take those letters seriously. I didn’t listen to Mary. It’s my fault that they had to die.”
Nick’s face was expressionless. He seemed neither desperate nor close to a nervous breakdown. He was completely devoid of emotion, which was terrifying.
“Ray was the mole I was looking for. He knew about the bomb in the car. He would have let me die, but he wanted to prevent my family from dying.”
Frank swallowed and fought his tears.
“Why? Why did he do that? I knew him for such a long time, and I trusted him.”
Frank didn’t know how to respond. He’d asked himself this very same question over and over again.
After he was alone again, Nick stood up and walked to the window with heavy steps. He pressed his forehead against the cold glass and closed his eyes. If he had more strength, he would have tried to jump out the window. The strong sedatives prescribed by the doctors had put him in a semiconscious, trancelike state.
But the kind moment of numbness granted by the drugs seemed to be coming to a close. He was forced to face the brutal reality that slowly and frighteningly approached him like an all-encompassing black tidal wave. Mary was dead. Christopher was dead. His entire family had been extinguished in a few seconds, vanished forever. He didn’t even have the chance to say good-bye to their lifeless bodies because there was nothing left of the two people who meant the most to him in this world. As if in an endless, slow-motion loop, Nick saw Mary’s smile, her wave, and the look of panic in Raymond Howard’s eyes. And then he saw the bright spark of the flame and felt the incredible force of the explosion that ripped the heavy armored car into two pieces like a toy.
Desperately, Nick pressed his burned hands over his ears and closed his eyes, but he couldn’t dispel the noises and images in his head. And yet there was no sorrow in his heart, nor pain and anger—only emptiness and numbness. He could hear their voices when people talked to him. He saw their worry and compassion and knew that they wanted to help him, but what could they do? A torrential black river rushed between them, and this river was his guilt. There was no consolation, no salvation for him, because he was guilty of Mary’s and Christopher’s deaths. He’d gone too far with his obsession, and now he had to atone for it. He would have to live with this guilt for the rest of his life. Fate had spared him, but at what cost? Nick convulsed from the pain. His heart was as heavy as a rock, and he feared the day when he had to leave the protective walls of the hospital and look life in the eye again.
Frank burst into tears when he got into his car in the hospital’s parking garage. He pressed his forehead against the steering wheel and sobbed. If only he could do something for Nick, something that would relieve his pain and suffering! But there was nothing, no chance, because Nick wouldn’t allow it. He had shut down, he was lost inside of himself, and nothing, no one, could reach him. Suddenly, Frank stopped crying and lifted his head. Yes! There was someone who might be able to help! He remembered how much Nick admired his old friend, the Jesuit priest Kevin O’Shaughnessy of the St. Ignatius monastery in Brooklyn. The priest had once been a practicing doctor. Although Frank was completely exhausted, longing only for his bed after ten terrible days, he started the engine and drove out of the underground lot. He headed straight to Brooklyn. He knew he was grasping at straws, but perhaps this straw could save someone’s life.
“Zack, you know as well as I do that we need Alex!” Vincent Levy yelled in annoyance. “So stop sulking like a baby and control the damage that you’ve caused!”
“How dare she give her clients false names?” St. John clenched his fist in anger.
“How dare you snoop around on her desk and her computer and then admit it to her?” Levy countered angrily. Through a mistake like this, the entire lucrative scheme could blow up. Alex was too smart; her suspicion could have dangerous consequences.
“That dumb bitch,” Zack said. “I could—”
“You’re acting like a jealous prima donna,” Levy interrupted him harshly.
“I’m not jealous!” LMI’s managing director disputed.
“Whatever.” Levy glanced at his watch. “Given the circumstances, I think it’s appropriate to get some leverage against Alex.”
“Leverage?” Zack looked up in surprise.
“Yes.” The voice of LMI’s president sounded scornful. “Thanks to your hysterical reaction, she has cause for suspicion. And she’s intelligent enough to see through all of this.”
He opened his desk drawer, took out a German passport, and tossed it to Zack.
“That’s her passport. This afternoon, you’ll fly to Nassau with a young lady traveling under Alex’s name. You’ll help her open an account there at the local branch of the Teignier & Fils Swiss bank. Then you will deposit two hundred thousand dollars in cash and fly back again.”
Zack’s eyes widened, and then he grinned.
“That’s one hell of a plan. It sounds like something I’d come up with!”
Levy shrugged his shoulders and handed him two airline tickets.
“Perfect. That’s a great idea, Vince.” Zack rubbed his hands. His irritation was gone and felt back on top again.
“It wasn’t my idea,” Levy answered stiffly.
“I thought so.” Zack gave his boss a mocking look and then grabbed the tickets and passport. “You don’t have that much imagination.”
“Don’t forget why you are on LMI’s board. Another faux pas like this and you’ll be working in the mail room,” Levy said.
Zack’s face turned grim, and a hateful twinkle appeared in his eyes.
“By the way, Zack,” Levy said without a smile, “you’re flying to LA on Monday and will stay there until the dust has settled around here. We can’t afford to upset Alex.”
“As you wish, sir.” Zack faked a submissive bow. “I’ve heard that our esteemed M&A head has a meeting with Michael Whithers of Whithers Computers in Dallas next Thursday. This could turn out to be a huge deal if she doesn’t screw it up.”
“The only person screwing things up here,” Levy said coolly, “is you.”
Zack grimaced. Alex was in for the shock of her life, and so was this arrogant idiot Levy if he kept treating him in this demeaning manner. He had enough information to take them all down.
Father Kevin O’Shaughnessy didn’t hesitate for a second when Frank Cohen asked him for help. He had just returned from Europe the day before and had been thinking of paying his old friend a visit. At Mount Sinai, he learned that the doctors considered his visit the last attempt before they admitted their most prominent patient to the psychiatric unit. Nick sat on a chair by the window staring at his hands.
“Good evening, Nicholas,” Father Kevin said. Nick raised his head, and a spark of interest glimmered in his eyes, but it disappeared again at once.
“Good evening, Father,” he replied indifferently. The Jesuit priest’s heart grew heavy with sympathy when he realized what fate had done to this human being who had once been so fearless, so full of energy. A broken man sat in front of him. Horror and shock were visible in his dark eyes. Kevin O’Shaughnessy knew this expression all too well. He had seen it in the eyes of the many soldiers he’s seen return from Vietnam. Some of them were never able to overcome the trauma of war. They couldn’t forget the dead, the atrocities that they had witnessed. How much more terrible it must be to witness your own family’s death. What could he possibly say to a person who’d just suffered such a loss?
“Nicholas.” Father Kevin put his hand on the mayor’s shoulder, “Words can not express the deep sympathy that I feel for you, and how much I grieve for Mary and Christopher.”