Джеймс Паттерсон - Lost

Hanna darted through a break in traffic on Ocean Drive. A red Ferrari swerved to avoid her. Groups of young partyers just starting out their night laughed and shouted as they passed her. She wondered if it was this loud all the time. If you were looking west, away from the ocean, this could be a sunnier, wider Amsterdam.

She twisted her head, scanning in every direction, but she didn’t see Billy or any of his henchmen. There were still a number of people sitting on the beach as the sun set over the city behind them.

She cut down a path and saw, through a gap between the bushes and the sand, Billy sitting at a picnic table. Hanna couldn’t help looking over her shoulder to make sure Albert hadn’t followed her. She caught a glimpse of him across the street, still sitting in the rental car.

He was watching her every step.

She approached the picnic table and Billy. As she got closer, her heart soared at the sight of her daughter, Josie, sitting next to Billy. Josie’s hands were folded on the table and her eyes were cast down. But she appeared unharmed.

The smile Billy gave her made her angry. When they’d first met, Hanna had liked his easygoing style. Now she realized it just masked a sociopath. When this was all over and she had Josie safely in her arms, she might let Albert kill this Russian son of a bitch.

Chapter 96

I KNEW ALVIN Teague would be able to conduct a quiet surveillance of Hanna Greete and her brother. I had my own issues to deal with.

Marie had a ton of questions, so I filled her in on everything. She looked at the road and said, “I might have been a complication at a meeting like that.”

As soon as I’d crossed the MacArthur Causeway to Miami Beach, following the general path of the tracker I’d put in the red backpack, my phone rang—my office. No way that was good news. I decided I couldn’t avoid my supervisor any longer. Hopefully, if I walked him through this carefully, he wouldn’t get too nervous. I answered the phone with a friendly “Hey, boss.”

The voice on the other end did not belong to the FBI supervisor in charge of the international crimes task force. That was clear.

The first thing I heard was a man with a harsh Brooklyn accent almost screaming, “Don’t give me that ‘Hey, boss,’ bullshit. This is Martin Lobbeler, assistant special agent in charge of the FBI. I’m your supervisor’s boss. The asshole who has to listen to your presentations and local-cop view of events. You know, the presentations I usually ignore.”

“Yes, sir. What can I do for you?” I needed to keep this professional.

“One thing I don’t need is a cowboy like you coming in and working after a shooting. Do you know how it looks for the Bureau to have to hold a press conference about a shooting? You’ve pulled a lot of shit, including not keeping your supervisory special agent in the loop. And I don’t need a local cop stirring up shit with other federal agencies.”

“Like which agencies, sir?”

“Like DHS.”

“Sir, I’d like—”

“I thought you were supposed to be smart. They told me you had a law degree from the University of Miami, but you’re not acting smart. I’m going to be talking to your chief tomorrow. You’ll be back in uniform writing tickets.”

I couldn’t help myself. “In that case, be prepared for a shitload of parking tickets on your car.” So much for professionalism. “I’m trying to make a good arrest and I’m sure not getting much support from jerk-offs like you.”

I was about to hang up when my supervisor’s voice came on the line. He spoke quietly, probably trying to keep the ASAC from hearing. “Calm down, Tom.”

“But that idiot ASAC just told me I’m off the task force right when we’re in the middle of an operation.”

“He said he’d talk to your chief tomorrow. Today you’re still a member of the task force and a sworn Miami police officer. I expect you to use your best judgment the rest of the day. Do what you think is right, and we’ll see what your chief has to say tomorrow. Am I understood?”

I sat in my car, silent. Had my meek and mild supervisor just given me a green light to move forward on this operation? That was sure what it sounded like to me.

Carefully I said, “I hear what you’re saying. I’ll call you when we resolve the current situation. I think you’ll be happy with the progress we’ve made on the case.”

My supervisor said, “You mean the human-trafficking case that I will attribute to Steph Hall if necessary?”

“That’s exactly the case I mean.” This guy was full of surprises. He already had a way of accounting for the arrests even if I got fired from the task force. That’s all I wanted right now. Just a little leeway to do the right thing.

I could always practice law if I had to.

Chapter 97

I MET UP with the others in a parking lot behind the Regal Cinema on Lincoln Road. I kept quiet for a minute. I was surprised at how much the angry ASAC’s threat bothered me. I really did love working on this task force. But there was no question that the only thing I cared about now was saving Hanna’s daughter from the Russians and dropping a big net on as many human traffickers as possible.

An FBI ASAC was not usually involved in operations. For the most part, the ASACs were administrators, and like all administrators, they could be a help or a hindrance. I didn’t like him saying that I was a cowboy. Just because I didn’t follow the FBI rules didn’t mean I was a cowboy. I didn’t risk my partners’ lives and I always made clean cases that held up in court.

Steph and Chill came up to my car as I was on the radio with Alvin Teague. “Do you have eyes on the target, Smooth Jazz?”

“Ten-four. There’s no one we can’t follow in the city.”

“Especially when you have a tracker on them.”

“I barely even looked at it.”

“Right. And I was a great football player in college.” I purposely said it over the radio so anyone who was helping me would get a good laugh. Now I got more serious and turned to my partners in front of me.

“As soon as Hanna has the girl, we’ll swoop in. Smooth Jazz and the other Miami cops know to look after the girl and her mother. That leaves us able to focus on the Russians.”

I looked at Marie. “You don’t have tactical gear or a gun. I don’t want to risk—”

She held up a hand. “I know, I’m a civilian here. Just like you were in Amsterdam. Yet, by chance, you still got involved in our operation when the suspects ran. I’ll use common sense. I’ll help with the daughter if I’m needed.”

I nodded. She’d made it easy for me.

Chill had a half smile on his face. I knew the ATF agent liked the idea of the three of us going against the Russians. I knew he had an ax to grind with Rostoff. I just hoped he didn’t do anything crazy.

On the radio, Smooth Jazz said, “The woman is out of the car and crossing Ocean Drive almost in front of the Clevelander. It looks like the male driver is staying with the rental car. She’s looking for someone on the beach side of the road.”

I grabbed the radio. “Be there in two minutes. Can you keep eyes on the female? She’s the one who’ll meet the Russians.”

Alvin Teague said, “You forget who you’re talking to? I can keep eyes on anyone.”

I needed to hear that confidence about now.

Chapter 98

HANNA GREETE’S LEGS trembled as she headed down the gentle slope of the green area between the street and the beach to the picnic table where Josie was sitting quietly next to Billy the Russian.

Mosquitoes buzzed around her as she approached. She caught a glimpse of couples on the beach gazing out at the Atlantic. This would be a lovely place if it weren’t for these crazy Russians.