I sit back down next to her. And I put my arm around her, looking out the small airplane window at the fuel trucks and all the ground workers—at everyone starting to come closer to us.
“Mom,” she says. “What do we do?
“At the moment?” I say. “I think we pray.”
Thirty-Eight Years Ago
“I pray that I’m wrong,” Frank said. “But I don’t think I am.”
“No,” Nicholas said. “I don’t think so.”
They were on a trip in Europe, in a small town in the South of France that Nicholas hadn’t even known existed. It was a town called Cap Ferrat. The two families were vacationing together, staying in the most beautiful home that Nicholas had ever been in. It was an eighteenth-century Mediterranean villa with a clay tile roof and sunlit balconies and a pool hugging the edge of the coast. Frank’s treat, of course.
Even with what Frank paid Nicholas, he couldn’t afford a night in this villa, let alone eight. But Frank loved sharing this with Nicholas’s kids, who he viewed as family, the closer they were all getting. Charlie and Katie were playing in the pool with the other kids. Jenny and Meredith dipping their feet in the water, talking about how they should make this a yearly tradition. What a way to ring in a New Year. Champagne and a rocky beach, the Mediterranean stretched out before them. Even more than the beauty of their surroundings there was this: everyone happy. Together, all of them. And happy.
Except for Frank.
The organization was back in the news, which Frank hated. He organized his business differently from his father—and from his father-in-law before that. He organized it to stay out of the news as much as possible.
And yet… here they were.
Six of the organization’s associates had been arrested in a sting operation in New York. Charges included racketeering, conspiracy, violent extortion, assault. Arson.
It was all connected to the demolition industry—an old stronghold in the organization’s business, a holdout from when Frank’s father was still running things. These associates, all six of them, had thirty-year tenures in the organization—and were really his father’s men. They were playing by the old rules of engagement.
“So we agree,” Frank said.
“On what exactly?”
Even though Nicholas knew. He knew what was coming before Frank said it. He’d felt it coming for a long time.
“You know I hate to ask you to take lead on this, Nick…” Frank said. “You know I hate it.”
“But you’re asking me to take lead on this?”
Frank didn’t answer at first. If Nicholas didn’t step in, it would be Bobby and his team running point. Bobby had been with the organization for nearly as long as the associates that were causing this latest round of trouble. Bobby was a good lawyer. He wasn’t as good as Nicholas though.
At the same time, Bobby was willing to do things that Nicholas wouldn’t. He was willing to cross lines that Nicholas wouldn’t.
Still, Nicholas was moving closer to the most important line, wasn’t he? The line he swore he wouldn’t cross. Frank and his children were splashing in the pool together, their wives sipping their sparkling pink wine. Their fates were intertwined.
Nicholas had a thought, in that moment—as clear as anything he’d ever known in his life. If he agreed to this—this could be it. The last time he could even see the line.
“They’re coming for me, Nicky, you know that,” Frank said. “That’s their strategy here…”
Nicholas couldn’t disagree with Frank on that. If this case didn’t get shut down (if Nicholas wasn’t able to shut it down), it would give the FBI ammunition to get closer to the leadership. To get closer to Frank himself. Sometimes that boost was enough. You think you’re making progress and that is just enough to propel things forward—to help you find the threads to get the rest of the way there.
“I can’t move to Miami, Frank.”
“No one is asking that. I would never ask you that.”
That was cold comfort, Nicholas almost said out loud. Because, really, Frank wasn’t asking him this either. He was just waiting for Nicholas to catch up.
Their kids were in the pool. Their wives were side by side.
How many ways, after all, were there not to say no?
Less Than Friendly Skies
