Джеймс Паттерсон - Lost

The first thing she noticed was the blood spattered across the sheet on the foldout bed.

The second was a bloody handprint on the bathroom door.

Hanna’s whole world started to spin as she tried to comprehend what had happened. She cried out, “Josie,” praying to God she would get some kind of response.

There was just dead silence.

Chapter 78

HANNA FOUGHT THE urge to scream. Nothing had prepared her for the scene she was witnessing. She cried out again, “Josie!” Then she heard a sound coming from the bathroom.

She and Albert rushed to the bathroom door. The smell of vomit was overwhelming. She pushed the door open and found Tasi kneeling next to the toilet with blood pouring from her nose and lips. She had two puffy black eyes. Josie’s babysitter had been beaten so badly, she was sick to her stomach.

Hanna didn’t like to see the young woman in such distress, but she couldn’t waste any time. “Where’s Josie?”

Tasi started sobbing, then leaned over the toilet to throw up again. The retro pink toilet made the blood and vomit stand out more. Even the kitschy palm-tree wallpaper seemed ominous now.

Hanna gently took Tasi by the shoulders and made her turn from the toilet. She said, “Tasi, what happened? Where is Josie?” She spoke slowly and clearly, as if she were talking to someone who didn’t understand Dutch.

Tasi took in gulps of air. Haltingly, she said, “A man tapped on our front door. He said he was a maintenance worker. I opened the door just a crack.” Tasi broke down and cried for a moment. “There was a woman there too, and she started kicking me in the stomach and the face. I was crying and couldn’t see but I heard Josie yell as the man dragged her out of the room.”

“When did this happen?”

“Less than an hour ago.”

“What did the man and woman look like?” Albert asked.

Tasi coughed and spit some blood into the toilet. She collected her thoughts and said, “The woman was tall with dark hair. The man had a goatee. It was dyed blue.”

Billy. Hanna would murder him right now if he were in front of her. She asked Albert, “How do you think they found us?”

Albert was silent for a moment, then said, “I know exactly how they found us.”

Five minutes later, Albert and Hanna were in the cluttered reception area of the Miami Gardens Inn. Ancient magazines, paperbacks with torn covers, and old VHS movies lay haphazardly on a shaky bookshelf. The clerk who’d checked them in looked up and said, “Good evening.” His Russian accent set Hanna on edge. Albert was already over the edge.

Without saying a word, Albert grabbed the young man by the shirt collar, dragged him over the counter, and threw him onto the hard floor. He’d stuck his pistol in the young man’s ear before Hanna even realized he’d drawn it.

Albert spoke slowly and clearly in English. “I don’t want you to make a mistake you’ll regret the rest of your life.” He shoved the pistol into the man’s ear harder. “I’m going to ask you a question. If you lie, I’m going to put a bullet through your head. Do you understand me?”

The young man nodded vigorously.

Albert said, “Let me see your phone.”

The clerk carefully reached into his pocket and pulled out a new iPhone. Albert made him open it, looked at a few numbers, and said, “Whose number is this?”

The young man hesitated and Albert pressed the gun harder into his ear. The man yelled, “Wait, wait, I don’t know his name! He runs a lot of the strip clubs. He told me to keep an eye out for you guys. I just did like I was told.”

Albert remained unnaturally calm and said, “Where did they take the girl?”

“I don’t know. I swear to God, I don’t know.” The clerk started to cry, and sweat poured down his forehead.

Albert said, “FaceTime him.”

“What?”

Albert smacked his cheek with the barrel of the pistol. He didn’t feel like explaining. The young man quickly hit Redial. After a couple of rings, an image came on the iPhone. It was Billy.

Friendly as always, Billy said, “Ah, Albert. I wondered what happened to you guys. Glad you made it away from the ship safely.”

“Where’s Josie?”

Billy kept smiling. He said something to someone else in the room.

Albert made sure the pistol in the clerk’s ear was framed in the phone properly. “Tell me where my niece is or you’ll be cleaning up this asshole’s brains for a week.”

Billy said, “The young man that works at that nasty little hotel? I don’t know him. Go ahead and shoot. I couldn’t care less. But you might be able to use the five hundred dollars cash I gave him. Perhaps you should check his pockets. But shoot him if you want.”

The young man sucked in some oxygen and started to shake.

Then Billy said, “If you’d like to be reasonable, I’m sure we could work out a simple trade. The diamonds for the girl. That’s the only thing I’m interested in talking to you about.”

Hanna grabbed the phone and said, “Is Josie okay?”

Billy chuckled and said, “Don’t worry, mama bear. We’re taking good care of your baby bear.” He turned the camera briefly so Hanna could see Josie sitting in a chair with a Kleenex in her hand.

Billy said, “It’s late. We’ll talk some more tomorrow. It’s a simple deal. Diamonds for the girl. It will make up for that disaster at the port.” The image disappeared and the line went dead.

Albert gave the clerk a hard look, then he patted his pants pockets. He reached in the right pocket and pulled out the wad of cash.

Just as Hanna opened the door, Albert turned and screamed, “Bang!”

The young man flinched and then burst into tears.

Chapter 79

I SAT BY Marie’s side at Jackson Memorial as a distressingly young ER doctor put nine stitches in her left cheek. She’d been right; most of the blood was not hers.

After Marie had been sewn up, she turned to me and asked, “How do I look?” Her sly smile broke the tension and I laughed.

“Beautiful.” I wasn’t kidding. But even with the scrapes and stitches, she was ready to get back to work. After the visit to Jackson Memorial, we searched the streets of Miami for the people who had fled from the ship. We managed to find six young women, two young men, and two older women. Most were wandering around the port area. Two were at a shelter.

Once back in the station, we began taking statements from the victims who spoke English. Their accounts of traveling over the Atlantic in the shipping container were harrowing.

About five days into the trip, they said, the older of the two men from India had fallen asleep and never woke up. The younger women, who spoke the same language and appeared to be friends, said they believed that the younger Indian man had had some sort of cardiac event when he discovered the other man was dead.

The two dead girls, they said, were from somewhere in Belgium. One of them had started getting sick a few days earlier, and the other girl, who never spoke to anyone and whose name they didn’t know, began throwing up as well. They had both died about a day ago.

It was heartbreaking. Marie, for all of her toughness, had a hard time dealing with it. She clearly felt like she had personally let them down.

I gave her a few minutes. She composed herself, but it wasn’t easy. Cops aren’t robots, and few civilians can comprehend what police officers see on a regular basis. It’s a miracle that there aren’t cops breaking down all the time.

I said, “It’s not your fault. It’s the traffickers and people like Rostoff. They don’t care about anything but money.”

“It’s just so sad,” Marie said. “Society has forgotten these people. I’ve seen it in Amsterdam. Young girls think they can make their fortune by coming here, but it’s all lies. I wish we could do something to hurt predators like the Rostoff brothers. The death penalty would be too good for them.”