Джеймс Паттерсон - Lost

A few cars rolled along Biscayne Boulevard. It was the perfect place to sit and watch for surprises. The red backpack sat on the table with nothing blocking the signal from the tracker. My pistol sat in my lap under the table, though I hoped it didn’t come down to fast gunplay. I wanted to be ready just in case. This was all my plan, from start to finish. No one else could be blamed if it went wrong. That was exactly how I wanted it.

It was a beautiful Miami afternoon with a breeze off the ocean. The sun was starting to dip behind some of the taller buildings, and I thought I could see some buzzards roosting on the state building downtown. It was one of the more famous quirks of the Magic City; no one had ever explained why the buzzards preferred that building.

I felt a trickle of sweat run down my back. It was nerves, I knew. A good cop doesn’t ignore little signs like perspiration. I took a breath and thought about how this might play out.

I’d never dealt with Dutch criminals before, but from what I’d heard about Albert Greete, he was a badass through and through. In Miami, I could usually spot badasses. They weren’t the guys in muscle shirts with big biceps; those were the showy loudmouths. The truly dangerous people in Miami were quiet and watched everything. They noticed when other people were nervous or tried to signal partners. The quiet, dangerous people never gave you a second chance.

If this Dutch dude Albert and his sister, Hanna, were like that, I had plenty to worry about. And that’s why I had kept Marie out of sight.

Then I spotted them. They weren’t hiding their approach. A man and a woman in their thirties walking across the parking lot, weaving between the cars.

The woman, Hanna, was very attractive, with brown hair and a lean, athletic body.

Her brother looked exactly like I’d expected him to—jeans, a loose shirt to cover a gun, and eyes that were fixed on me. He was shorter than me but in good shape, with broad shoulders and thinning hair. He was not intimidated.

Behind them, casually waiting by parked cars, were my partners and Marie Meijer.

Now the brother and sister were absolutely focused on me. They saw the backpack in plain sight and clearly wanted to discuss it. That meant Albert wasn’t checking his surroundings and didn’t see Steph and Chill start to follow him at a distance.

Hanna appeared calm as she approached. Maybe it was because she realized I was waiting for them.

When they were five yards away, they stopped directly in front of me. There were no civilians anywhere in the park. Looking at it tactically and as a police officer, I’d say the setting was perfect.

Hanna said in accented English, “You’re the man we saw with Marie Meijer in Amsterdam. So you’re a cop too.”

I waited in silence for a few moments, then said, “My name is Tom Moon. I’m a Miami police detective.” I kept a close watch on her brother as he gave me the stink-eye. I could tell Albert was used to people crumbling under his stare. Welcome to Miami, pal.

Hanna said, “At least you don’t work for the Rostoffs.”

Her brother added, “Or do you?”

I let out a laugh. “I would gladly trade you two if I could arrest Roman Rostoff.”

That seemed to satisfy them.

Hanna said, “So what do we do now?”

“Before you do anything stupid, I should probably point out that there are two armed federal agents behind you.”

Albert’s head snapped around as he swiveled to look behind him.

Chill smiled and waved with his left hand; his right hand held a Glock nine-millimeter.

Steph held her own Glock along the seam of her pants.

Albert turned so they could see his hand was on his gun too.

Just another day in Miami.

Chapter 91

I STARED AT the two Dutch human traffickers. I was not particularly shocked that everyone standing around me held a gun. I was holding one too, just not as obviously. On the bright side, no one had been shot yet. That was a plus.

A flutter of nerves ran through me. I had to look at my overall plan and take a few risks.

Hanna said, “No one would benefit from a gunfight. I have only one goal—to save my daughter.”

Steph Hall said, “Then tell your brother to drop his pistol. Have him put down the gun and we’ll talk.”

I was glad we had Marie stashed in one of the cars for now.

Hanna looked around at each of us, trying to decide what to do, for what felt like an hour. Her brother, meanwhile, was sizing us up, assessing whom to shoot first and what would be his best escape route. There was something about Albert that set me on edge, though I guessed he would hold off on using the gun. I assumed he didn’t want to risk his sister being shot.

I took a breath, trying to keep calm in case I had to start shooting. I gripped my pistol tighter; it was still hidden from view under the table. I calculated how long it would take me to raise it.

Both Chill and Steph showed great tactical sense by standing off to the side in case I did exactly that. It was just another example of our team starting to jell.

Albert raised his left hand and opened his fingers wide as he said, “What if we compromise?” He held his pistol in his right hand with only two fingers and slowly tucked it into the waistband of his jeans.

Normally, a cop would never let that kind of bullshit go. But this wasn’t a normal situation and these weren’t our typical Miami knuckleheads. I was sensing a possible inroad to the Rostoff organization if we played this right.

I kept the gun in my hand as I calmly said, “Tell me what happened to your daughter.”

Hanna surprised me by stepping over to the picnic table. She sat on the bench directly across from me. She had a pretty face and piercing brown eyes.

She said, “My daughter, Josie, was kidnapped last night from a hotel near the airport. The kidnappers will exchange her for some diamonds that are in that pack. I don’t think we have any other options. We couldn’t get her back if we were on the run for killing three police officers. That is, if we even managed to walk away from a gunfight. You have to believe me—the only thing that matters to me is getting my daughter back.”

I thought about that for a moment, then said, “Do you know the people who took your daughter?”

“The man I’ve been talking to is named Billy—”

I said, “Does he have a goatee that’s dyed blue?”

Her face told me we were dealing with Billy the Blade.

Chapter 92

I LISTENED TO Hanna with an open mind. Steph Hall holstered her pistol.

Albert looked at Steph like Wile E. Coyote looked at the Road Runner. He had no interest in becoming friends.

Hanna finished explaining about the diamonds and her daughter and the Russians. We sat in silence for a few moments. Then I said, “We could help you get your daughter back.”

“This man, Billy, is no fool. I know he’ll kill her if he has any hint the police are involved. The only way to get her back is to trade the diamonds for her. If you let me do that, I will turn myself in, I’ll testify against Billy, I’ll do anything. But I have to get my daughter back first.”

She was direct and to the point. It left me stumped. I wanted Hanna’s daughter returned safely too. I hadn’t forgotten that Hanna was a human trafficker who’d ruined the lives of dozens of people and allowed at least four of them to die, but that didn’t mean her daughter had to die as well.

I thought about it, and I was thankful no one felt the need to fill the silence with useless chatter. But I kept an eye on Albert. He was a wild card who might be a little crazy.

I looked from Steph to Chill. I bet they were great poker players, because they didn’t give me a hint of what they were thinking.