Levy sighed as he grabbed the telephone and dialed Sergio Vitali’s number. He had hoped that Alex would calm down after three months, but this apparently wasn’t the case. If she stuck to her threat and left LMI, it would put an end to these lucrative side earnings for quite a while. Finding someone as good as she was would be difficult, if not impossible.
On the other end of the line, Sergio personally answered the phone.
“I’m afraid that she’s suspicious,” Levy said. “She demands that I fire Zack. If not, she’s threatening to quit LMI.”
Sergio replied calmly. “Just take it easy. We’ve opened an account for her, and we’ll tell her about it when the time is right. I bet that she’ll become agreeable by then.”
“I don’t know. It’s not easy to intimidate her. She’s really clever.”
Sergio knew that. He smiled slightly. Although he still couldn’t figure her out, she had seemed sincere with him last night. She had seemed pleased with the necklace and the prospect of living on Park Avenue. They made plans for their future together. She had even confided in him about her mistrust of St. John and her desire to leave LMI. She even told him that she’d been at Gracie Mansion, and how shocked she was about the attack on the mayor. Never before had Alex talked this openly to him.
“She’ll be reasonable, Vince,” he reassured his business partner. “Don’t worry about her.”
“I hope you’re right.”
Levy wasn’t so convinced.
“I will be, as usual,” Sergio countered. “I have Alex under control.”
Alex left her office after sitting at her desk for a few hours. She hadn’t accomplished anything. She was preoccupied with Sergio’s behavior and all of the things that she had uncovered. It was obvious that Levy wasn’t about to fire Zack—after all, he was the man for his dirty work. Furthermore, he knew too much. But despite all of this, she was also indispensable to this elaborate scheme to generate dirty money. This was obviously why Sergio and Levy wouldn’t let her leave LMI. Sergio’s renewed marriage proposal could have been earnest, but Alex wasn’t sure whether his primary motive was to tie her to him and to LMI. It would be a lie to claim she wasn’t afraid of Sergio. He terrified her.
Alex sighed and closed her eyes. Last night she had decided to call Nick Kostidis. She needed to talk to him. He was the only person who could tell her what to do with the information she had. From a phone booth, she dialed the number that Nick had given to her. A man named Frank Cohen answered.
“This is Alex Sontheim,” she said. “I need to speak to Mayor Kostidis. It’s important.”
“Mayor Kostidis is unavailable at the moment,” he replied.
“I was a guest at Gracie Mansion in July. Mayor Kostidis knows me.”
Cohen hesitated.
“Listen,” Alex said emphatically, “I know that this might be a bad time, but I have information that could shed light on the bombing.”
“Mayor Kostidis is in no condition to talk about this. I hope you understand.”
“Of course,” Alex replied. “But when can I speak to him?”
“I can’t help you. I’m sorry. Try his office again in a few weeks.”
In a few weeks! This guy must be joking! Alex thanked him and hung up. It occurred to her that she’d read somewhere that Nick’s family had been buried at the St. Ignatius cemetery in Brooklyn. It was too late now, but she planned to drive there the next morning. Maybe she’d be lucky and find Nick there.
The St. Ignatius cemetery was so old it almost felt medieval. With its tall old trees and ivy-covered walls, it seemed like a film set for a historical movie.
In the taxi to Brooklyn, Alex kept looking through the rear window, but her fear of being followed seemed unfounded. The air was cool for early October, and morning fog made the cemetery even darker than it already was.
Alex walked slowly through the rows of graves. Weeds were sprouting from the cracks in the veined, bulging stone slabs. The lettering on the gravestones was faded from the wind and weather. Mold-covered marble angels stared stoically into the distance with unfocused eyes.
Although the aura of mortality was oppressive, she was fascinated by this cemetery—a peaceful, surreal oasis in the middle of this restless city. Alex had no clue where the graves of Mary and Christopher Kostidis were, and she seemed to be the only living person there. She wandered among the graves until she finally saw Nick Kostidis. He was sitting on a bench with his back hunched and his head lowered. He seemed so lonely, so unhappy, that her heart constricted in sympathy. How could she even consider bothering him with her problems? Who was she to disturb him in his grieving? It was far too late to help him.
Alex hesitated and was about to turn around when the church bells started chiming. Kostidis looked up, and their eyes met. She walked over to him.
She looked down at the grave. Reading the names etched into the granite gravestone, she realized that Nick Kostidis’s entire family was buried here: his parents, his brothers, and now also his wife and son. Suddenly, she felt his pain and fought back tears while folding her hands and murmuring the only prayer that she could remember from her childhood—the Lord’s Prayer.
How terrible and senseless these deaths were. She slowly turned her gaze toward the dark eyes of this man she had met that night at the Plaza almost two years ago. He had warned her at the time, but she didn’t listen to him. Alex remembered the intensity of his eyes and his laugh. He had aged years during the past few months.
She suddenly couldn’t remember why she had come here. Without saying a word, she sat down next to him on the bench. The bells stopped chiming, and the quiet sound of an organ seeped through the thick walls of the church, its silhouette visible in the morning fog.
“For almost three months now, I’ve been sitting here for hours every day,” Nick said quietly after a while. “I’m waiting for the moment when I can finally cry.”
He ran a hand through his hair, which had turned increasingly gray.
“I suggested that they take my car because Christopher’s car wouldn’t start, and now they’re dead.”
Alex was deeply touched by his trust. She could feel Nick’s need to talk in order not to suffocate. He stared off into the distance.
“I’d love to be able to cry. But I can’t. Everything is dead inside of me. I keep asking myself why? Why Mary? Why my son? Why the girl? It’s not their fault that I…I…that I refused to listen to the warnings. It’s my fault because I thought of nothing else but chasing Vitali, even though Mary kept asking—no, begging—me to stop.”
He fell silent, and Alex heard him take a deep breath before continuing.
“How can I live with this? How can I ever fix what I’ve caused?”
“But you didn’t do anything. He did.”
“No,” Nick said, shaking his head. “I was obsessed by the thought of stopping him. I shouldn’t have provoked him.”
He grimaced.
“What difference would it make if he were in prison today? With his connections, he’d be out in no time, and nothing would have changed. If I’d stopped chasing him and attacking him in public, they would still be alive today.”
Nick hid his face in his hands. Alex hardly understood a single word he said.
“I was arrogant. Fanatical. But I was wrong. It almost seems as if God wanted to punish me for my pride and arrogance.