Джеймс Паттерсон - Lost

“That noticeable, huh?”

I immediately apologized. “I was just kidding.”

Steph said, “I’m not. I’m exhausted. My mom came down from Riviera Beach to watch the baby.”

I said, “Baby up late? Is she sick? And what about Chaz?”

She waved off my questions. “You know the DEA. If they wanted you to have a family, they’d issue you one. Besides, he’s not the most attentive father in the world.”

I had to wonder what she saw in the conceited DEA agent she’d been living with for two years. “What about his parents? Don’t they ever help out?”

She shrugged. “They’re still coming to grips with the fact that their precious only child is shacked up with a black woman. They’re a little old-fashioned.”

“You mean racist.”

“Either way, they’re no help.”

I knew Steph wanted to marry the bozo, but the guy couldn’t see the gold that was right in front of his face. That was enough to convince me that Chaz was an idiot. The fact that he wouldn’t help out with his own kid sealed it for me.

Steph said, “I’m glad you’re back. The boss tends to focus on me when you’re not here. He had me running around doing all kinds of stupid shit that I’d much rather you would do.” Her laugh positively lifted my spirits. She stood up and said, “What do you think about lunch today?”

I nodded and smiled as she walked out of my office.

Two minutes after Steph left, a new visitor surprised me. I heard someone say, “What’s happening, Anti?” and I looked up to see Alvin Teague’s grinning face.

“What the hell are you doing here, Smooth Jazz?”

“Just checking out the office I intend to move into once I replace you.” Then he straightened his tie and added, “I was also hoping to run into Lorena Perez.”

That explained it. “Look, Jazz, the only way she’d talk to you is if you literally ran into her with your car.”

“Since when do you know so much about women?”

That was a good question. I pivoted. “I know about smart women, and smart women aren’t impressed by a Brooks Brothers suit—”

“Armani.”

“Or that shit you call flirting.”

Teague looked unfazed. “Tell that beauty I was looking for her and that I said hello.” He winked and was gone.

Chapter 47

I NEVER LIKED doing briefings in front of my own squad. Cops tend to ignore any information that comes from someone they know. That’s why a lot of agencies use outside trainers. To paraphrase Jesus, you can’t be a prophet in your own hometown.

A few years ago, I was in a briefing for a narcotics warrant where an undercover detective, Willie Hodge, went on too long about what a little apartment looked like on the inside. That’s all it took for Willie to earn the nickname “Cameron”—as in James Cameron, director of movies that run way too long, like Titanic and Avatar . One slip-up and you could be stuck with a nickname for your entire career. I still call Willie “Cameron.” And he answers to it.

Studying philosophy occasionally gives me insights into why people react to certain things the way they do. But philosophy doesn’t help me connect to high-achieving cops who are anxious to get out and work.

Now I wanted to find a way to make each of these experienced cops understand how important this case was to me, even if I had to begin with an educational seminar. Human trafficking is not a crime commonly investigated by U.S. authorities, and our laws and understanding of the crime are evolving. Too many cops still equate human trafficking with prostitution. There are overlapping elements, but human trafficking encompasses all kinds of exploitation. And it’s not confined to faraway, impoverished places; it’s a growing blot on wealthy countries.

I wanted to make sure everyone on the task force realized that human trafficking was all I would focus on until we wrapped up this smuggling ring. I recapped everything that had happened to me in Amsterdam. (Almost everything. I might’ve left out a detail or two, like smoking pot.)

I could tell it would be a hard sell when the smartest member of the task force, our resident CPA, Lorena Perez, said, “Isn’t it mostly just prostitution?”

“I gotta tell you, Lorena, a month ago I might’ve said yes. We all know how dirty a business prostitution is, how some of the girls work for rough pimps and make almost no money. Prostitution is not a career most people choose if they can avoid it.

“But human trafficking is bigger and ten times worse. Essentially, traffickers are taking people, both male and female, and turning them into slaves. The victims earn almost no money while they’re trying to pay off what they think their debt is. Pretty girls are often forced to become sex slaves. Someone’s got to do something about this.”

To her credit, Lorena nodded and said, “I guess that’s why every strip club in Miami-Dade now has only Russian dancers.”

“It’s one of the reasons. Chill and I had a talk with Roman Rostoff before I left. He’s wrapped up in human trafficking, as well as all the other shit he’s into. We may end up tangling with his organization.”

That got everyone’s attention. Good.

Lorena Perez said, “What are you going to need from us, Tom?” She flipped her dark hair; it looked like she’d spent hours styling it.

“Lots of surveillance until we can interdict the next load of people being smuggled in. I’m in close contact with the Dutch national police. They have a couple of sources giving them information.”

After the meeting broke up, Steph Hall caught up to me before I made it back to my office.

“You have such a good grasp of the issues we’re facing,” Steph said. “But maybe try acting a bit more fun-loving. Not so intense. I’ve seen you outside of work; I know how you joke with your sister and how you take care of your mom. We could use that guy around the task force a little more.”

All I could say was “Understood and noted.” I thought about it for a moment, then added, “Thanks. Not everyone is so honest.”

“There is something you could do for me to show your appreciation.”

I looked at Steph and said, “Anything you want.”

“Explain to me how you got the nickname Anti.”

It bothered Steph to no end that I’d never given her the backstory on my street name, and it tickled me that it frustrated her not to know. Still, I was almost about to say something when our supervisor asked me to come into his office. I smiled at the look on Steph’s face, shrugged, and said, “Sorry, some other time. Duty calls.”

Chapter 48

I WAS CONCENTRATING so hard that when the phone on my desk rang, it startled me. As soon as I heard Marie Meijer’s voice on the other end of the line, a goofy grin spread across my face.

After some small talk, Marie said, “I visited the kids at their facility. Monnie was reunited with her father and they’re leaving for Nairobi in two days.”

I didn’t tell her that Monnie had already sent me a message on Facebook about it.

Marie went on. “They’ve also made contact with Olivia’s mother. She’s been frantically searching for the little girl for the past four months. The Spanish authorities thought it was some kind of custody dispute with her ex-husband and never took the matter too seriously. The others are all fine and living like a little family. It’s really quite sweet. They’re just missing their giant, dim-witted father.” She let out a great laugh after delivering her little dig.

I said, “I’m setting things up on this end in case another load of people comes in.”

“One of my sources said they’re getting ready to move any day. I have surveillance on the Amsterdam and Rotterdam ports. We’re also monitoring all the airports in Western Europe with flights to Miami. My source thinks that’s where they’re headed again.”