Джеймс Паттерсон - Lost

I said, “Have you heard any more specifics about the time of arrival or method of travel? Just like you, we have limited resources. There’s no way I can cover all the ports in South Florida and all the airports.”

“I think it’s too many people to ride on a single commercial airliner. It would be too expensive. From what I hear, there are more than twenty people ready to be moved. That means it’s got to be by boat. We’re trying to figure out where and hopefully rescue the people while they’re still in Europe.” Marie paused, then added, “There’s something else.”

“What’s that?”

“Emile Rostoff is definitely involved. That means his brother in Miami will be too. My source says that the Russian we found in the street had been shot by Hanna’s brother.”

“Can you arrest him for it?”

“No. No evidence. But that means the Russians will be in no mood to fool around. I wouldn’t be surprised if our case ends with the murder of Hanna and Albert Greete.”

I let out a laugh. “Sorry. I guess I should sound more concerned. I’ve had narcotics cases end that way. We say they’re ‘exceptionally cleared.’”

“I like that term. Either way, it’s crucial to find these people being smuggled.”

“It sounds like you should come to Miami. We need to work this case together.”

“I agree. I’m trying to figure out the details now.”

We chatted for a few more minutes, then I stepped out of my office and ran into Steph. “Hi,” I said.

“Why are you in such a giddy mood?” she asked.

“How can you tell what kind of mood I’m in from a quick hello in the hallway?”

Steph smiled and put her hands on her hips. “Really? I spend more time with you than anyone else in your life does. Besides, if you’re not scowling, you’re probably in a good mood. All I’m saying is, keep it up. It’s a good look and good for the office.”

I was getting the sense that maybe I wasn’t as collegial as I could be at work. Thank God for honest people like Steph. Aside from my mom and sister, she might have been the only person in the world I could count on.

Chapter 49

WHEN I SAW Anthony Chilleo walking past my office, I grabbed him and pulled him inside.

After we talked for a minute about the task force and my trip, I got to my real concern. “Did anything happen with the Russians or my sister while I was gone? She claims that she didn’t even go out during my entire trip.”

Chill smiled. “She didn’t leave the house after six on any of the days you were gone.”

“Holy crap, you didn’t do a full surveillance on her the whole time I was away, did you?”

He didn’t say a word but pointed to the bag of technical equipment he had given me weeks before. It was still where he’d left it; I hadn’t bothered to put it away yet. I knew it held several trackers and other devices.

“You put a tracker on my sister’s car?”

“Yep.”

I stared at him as I searched for the right words. Then I nodded and said, “Brilliant.”

Chill just shrugged. He’d been around a long time and knew every possible trick. Why physically follow someone when you can just check your phone and see where her vehicle is?

But I didn’t like to think about how close Lila had come to being a bargaining chip in this deadly game. We were going to have to have a serious chat soon.

I asked Chill, “Do you have anything new on Rostoff?”

“He’s been holding off on a drug deal he was making with some Colombians. It must piss him off to know that someone is finally watching him. This is the first time he’s ever had a problem he couldn’t buy his way out of.”

“That means he might get desperate and try to threaten us. Or worse.”

Chill let out a snort. “Good luck with that.”

I liked his attitude. I sensed that Chill didn’t do anything in a half-assed way. Maybe that’s why he had been married twice.

I looked at him. “Keep your eyes open. You should probably warn your ex-wife as well.”

“It’d be a sad day for any Russians who bother her. A redneck from Ocala with a concealed-weapons permit? I think she’ll be fine.”

I believed him.

Chapter 50

Ostend, Belgium

HANNA GREETE HAD spent a lot of time on this load. Minors tended to listen well, but this group was mixed ages. Hanna had a few teenagers, several Eastern European women, and two Indian men. The total count was twenty-three.

Earlier, at her office, Hanna had supervised as one of her workers sewed the five blood diamonds Hanna intended to sell in the United States into a red Everest backpack. She’d already secured the tracking device in a pocket of the bag and had sewn the pocket shut. The woman had held up the backpack for inspection. Hanna ran her hands over the strap where the diamonds were hidden. Aside from a few bumps, there was no way to tell anything was concealed inside.

She’d touched the pocket holding the tracker. “It’s bigger than I remembered.”

Albert said, “It’s the same as the one I stuck on Marie Meijer’s car. I added a second battery pack so that it will work on the low setting for almost twenty days.”

“Why is there a low and a high setting?”

“It has to do with how strong the signal is. We’re losing some strength but gaining many extra days of use. I didn’t think you wanted to trust our cargo to switch out batteries halfway through the trip.”

Satisfied with that part of her plan, Hanna had to firm up the details that would mean the difference between earning half a million euros or hiding from the Russians for the rest of her life.

Hanna had noticed surveillance at the port in Rotterdam; she’d started looking at alternative ports. She’d finally settled on Ostend, Belgium, near Bruges.

Her brother had put her in touch with the first mate of the Scandinavian Queen, a midsize freighter that operated under a Danish flag.

Now Hanna was meeting the first mate at a bar in Ostend. The place didn’t even have a name. It was just “the bar near the port.” The bare concrete floor showed stains of old fights. Other stains represented where patrons had puked up the thick Belgian beer.

She looked across the table at the tall, weather-beaten first mate. “My brother says you’re reliable and will make sure everyone arrives safely,” she said.

The fifty-year-old sailor nodded, then took another giant gulp of beer from an oversize mug. Albert had told her the man had been on the ship for the past seven years.

“For what I’m paying you, I expect reliability,” Hanna added. “I should probably expect more than that for the cost.”

The sailor put down his mug and looked across the table at her. “You came to me. Not the other way around. I know Albert and trust him, so I agreed. But taking shit from a skirt is not part of the price tag.”

He seemed to think that he’d put her in her place, which bothered Hanna. She chose her next actions carefully. She stood up from the table and marched away. With every step, she expected the first mate to call out and stop her. She paused ever so slightly at the door, lifting her hand to the knob slowly.

Still silence.

She stepped through the doorway into the evening air of Ostend. A cool breeze blew from the water. She couldn’t have people she paid talking to her like that. She’d have to find another way to move the load.

The specially built storage container she’d bought had already been moved to a facility just outside the port, and the plan was easy. Just before the ship was set to sail, she would have her cargo loaded. The extra-large container, with four air vents and a small toilet built into one corner, could be used over and over.

Apparently, the container would now have to be on a different ship.