Джеймс Паттерсон - Lost

I might be able to use that fear.

I scanned the beach around me, searching for my pistol. As I glanced to my left, I took a hard punch to the right side of my face. It made me stagger. Blood started pouring from my nose.

Before I had my full senses back, Billy kicked me hard in the stomach. Now we were both short of breath. I stumbled back and caught a glimpse of Billy running straight at me. With his goatee, the blood on his face, and his eyes open wide, he looked like some kind of demon.

Just as he hit me, I fell backward on purpose and rolled with it. It was the first time in my whole life that that little move worked. He ended up rolling right over the top of me and landed with a hard thump on some sea oats in the sand.

I sprang to my feet, and when Billy got up on his knees, I pretended his head was a football and punted him as hard as I could. The top of my foot connected with his blue goatee. His head snapped up hard. A tooth flew up in the air and disappeared into the sea oats.

Billy grunted as he flopped over onto his back. All the fight had gone out of him. Quickly, I fell on top of him and patted him down for more weapons. He didn’t even carry a gun. I guess that’s how he’d gotten the nickname Billy the Blade.

It took me only a few seconds to handcuff him and retrieve my pistol.

Chill and Steph were holding their prisoners on the sidewalk about fifty feet from me. I shot Steph a quick thumbs-up to let her know I was okay.

Hanna was sitting next to her dead brother, weeping.

I pulled Billy to his feet so he was standing right next to me, a shell of the well-dressed confident jerk I had dealt with before. His face and suit were covered with blood. His hair was no longer neatly slicked back but stuck up in every direction, revealing his scalp. His face was caked with blood and sand, and his left hand needed immediate medical attention.

I said, “You’re done. Kidnapping, murder, human trafficking—your days of living near the beach are over. I might die poor, but I guarantee you’ll die in prison.”

Billy said, “Wait, can’t we work this out?” He spit blood and fragments of teeth into the sand.

“Billy, are you trying to bribe me? I don’t mind being poor.”

I thought the muscular Russian was going to cry. It was oddly satisfying.

Chapter 103

I HELD A shaken Billy upright. His whole world had just collapsed. I needed to give him time to understand that. I needed him . He could sink the entire Rostoff organization. I felt the tremor of fear as I held his arm.

Billy said, “I can’t go to prison. That’s why I fled Russia. I’m sure we can work something out.”

I had him. “The only way we can work anything out is if you give up your boss. You make a statement right now to me about Roman Rostoff and maybe I can help you.”

“I can transfer any amount of money into any account. Immediately,” Billy said.

I snorted. “This isn’t the movies. It’s not Russia either. That shit doesn’t usually work here. That’s why I didn’t say you could walk, only that I might be able to help you.”

Billy considered it and finally said, “How can you help me?”

“Tell us all about the Rostoff organization. I know I can get a prosecutor to work with us. You’ll do time, but it’ll be in some country-club federal lockup, not a hellhole state prison like Raiford.”

Billy stared at me with an unreadable expression. Blood seeped from a dozen places on his face. He was a beaten, broken man. Finally, he mumbled, “Mr. Rostoff will kill me.”

I had to think fast. “Unless we arrest him first. We have ways to protect you.”

Billy looked down at the ground. I wondered how many people he had killed to protect his boss. This wasn’t an easy decision for him, but it was the best time to hit him with the proposal.

I just stood there in silence, letting him consider his options. It took longer than I’d thought it would. He started to speak a couple of times, then stopped. At last he nodded and said, “Okay.”

I felt like I had just found a hoard of gold. I finally had a chance to land the big fish: Rostoff.

I heard Steph Hall shout, shaking me out of my daydream. I turned my attention away from Billy. Steph aimed her pistol at someone coming from the beach.

It was another Russian asshole in a black suit. He must’ve heard Billy and me speaking from the other side of the sea oats. My right hand moved quickly while I held on to Billy’s arm with my left hand. He raised a pistol and at the same time I drew my Glock; we were like gunfighters in the Old West.

The man in the black suit got off three rounds before Steph opened fire on him. I popped off two more rounds. Between the two of us, we caught him in the center mass of the chest, and he went down onto the sand in a heap.

I felt Billy pull away from me, and for a moment I thought he was trying to escape. Then I realized the man’s shots hadn’t been directed at me—Billy had three holes in his chest. He sank onto the beach.

My best shot at taking down Roman Rostoff was gone.

Chapter 104

AFTER THE INCIDENT on the beach, it was a crazy few days. I was suspended while the FBI investigated the shooting. All the Russians had been armed, and the media painted law enforcement in the best possible light for a change.

I remember the relief I felt when Alvin Teague walked back to the scene with Hanna’s daughter, Josie. Marie was with them. She had been instrumental in protecting Josie and calming her down. Once she’d spoken Dutch to the girl, Josie realized she was safe.

Teague had managed to cover the surveillance, help save the girl, and make it sound like a normal day at the Miami PD. Like I said, Smooth Jazz might’ve been a pompous ass, but he was a hell of a cop.

I attended Hanna Greete’s first court appearance. I was still suspended, but there was no law that said I couldn’t follow the proceedings closely as a civilian. The judge was a former federal prosecutor named Alice Jackson, someone I had dealt with a few times. She gave me a quick smile when I stepped into the back of the courtroom.

Hanna looked much different in the simple tan correctional scrubs she wore to face the judge. Her public defender, Chad Laine, asked for bail. I thought Judge Jackson might laugh out loud.

The judge looked over some paperwork and finally said, “Based on the crimes you’re charged with, your lack of residency, and your lack of ties to the community, there will be no bail at this time.”

Laine, a tall charmer in a cheap suit with a Florida Gator pin on his lapel, stood and said, “If I personally vouched for my client, would that influence the court?”

Judge Jackson smiled and said, “Yes, it would. It would make me think you were a good attorney who really cared about his client.”

“What about in regard to bond for Ms. Greete?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. She’s a citizen of the Netherlands who appears to have entered this country only for a criminal endeavor. In addition, the indictment details the deaths of four people smuggled into the port of Miami.”

The attorney hung his head.

Judge Jackson said, “Good effort, Counselor. I’d like to help out a fellow Gator, but I have no choice in this matter.”

Josie had been allowed to return to Amsterdam in the custody of her babysitter, Tasi.

When the hearing was over, I stood at the rail between the public seats and the prosecutor’s table. I said hello to the prosecutor and thanked her for her hard work.

The deputy U.S. marshals started to lead Hanna back to the holding cell. As they passed me, she looked up and said, “Thank you for letting us save my daughter.”

That’s not what I’d expected after such a demanding investigation. Now I felt like the Amsterdam connection on this case was closed. That didn’t mean we were done. Though it did mean that Marie Meijer would be going back to Amsterdam, accompanying Magda so she could be reunited with her brother, Joseph.