James Patterson - Blindside

As we pulled away, Fiore said, “The Estonian cops couldn’t care less what US law enforcement is doing in their country. As long as we don’t cause problems. And that’s the only reason you’re here, Detective Bennett. To cause problems.”

“And how would you know that, Special Agent Fiore?”

“Because I’m not a dumbass. You think I don’t know who helped you escape at the airport?”

“Maybe you’re not as stupid as you look.”

Fiore chuckled. “I could say the same about you.”

I said, “So we’re fighting a turf war four thousand miles from home?”

“It’s not a turf war. You have no jurisdiction. And now your ass is going home.”

I said, “You don’t even know exactly why I’m here. I’m looking for a missing girl.”

“I know, I know. Spoiled rich girl whose father could fire you.”

“It’s not like that. He hasn’t threatened me or offered me anything. You don’t understand. She’s fallen in with a group of cybercriminals. She could be in danger.”

He pulled the car roughly to the curb and turned to me. His voice ticked up in volume. “No, you don’t understand. She’s with that group. She’s helping them. They’ve caused all kinds of shit and made enemies on both sides of the law. Even the goddamn yakuza thinks they’ve been disrespected. A Colombian cartel wants them to pay tribute. And don’t get me started on the Russians. Who knows what those dickwads will do.”

“She may be a kidnap victim. I might even have a location. A warehouse over on Tartu Maantee, across from a café named Toit’s City.”

“Doesn’t matter. Too dangerous. We can’t have a shoot-out in Tallinn. It’s not the South Side of Chicago. I intend to get you to the airport and sit with you until your flight at 2100 local time. You’ll be back in New York tomorrow. As I understand it, you’re a pretty decent homicide dick. Go back to solving murders.”

I gave him a sideways glance as an idea popped into my head. “You had to be some kind of real cop before the FBI.” The real cop dig was inadvertent. Every big-city detective knows the FBI hates that. It just came naturally.

Fiore was used to it. He proudly said, “Brookline, Mass. How could you tell?”

“The ‘homicide dick’ comment. Only an old-school cop would use a term like that.”

He nodded his agreement.

“I can’t believe a cop would let a missing girl go without any investigation. You’ve been with the Feebs too long.”

“Suck it, Mr. NYPD. I’m just following orders.”

“So were the guards at Auschwitz.”

“That’s a low blow.”

I sighed and looked down at my lap. Then I set the trap. “I guess you know all about me.”

“More than I care to.”

“So you know my grandfather is a Catholic priest.”

“It’s about the only thing redeeming I’ve heard about you.”

“He asked me to pick up research documents while I’m here. They can’t be mailed or shipped. They’re at a Russian Orthodox Church named St. Laszlo’s. Do you know it?”

“Sure. It’s not a main tourist attraction like Alexander Nevsky, up on the hill, but I’ve passed it a million times.”

“If I leave the country quietly, will you just let me pick up the envelope first? At least I’ll accomplish one thing on this trip.” I felt a little guilty pulling the Catholic card, but Fiore relented.

“As long as it only takes a minute.”

CHAPTER 62

CHRISTOPH AND OLLIEhad wasted no time once their Nordica flight landed early in the morning. Henry had someone meet them at the airport who provided a car and a couple of Czech pistols, but Christoph still had to run by their apartment and pick up his favorite knife. He never knew when he might need it.

Ollie had slept only a couple of hours, but he seemed alert and ready to go. Christoph often marveled at his partner’s ability to bounce back after a hard night of partying. Although he’d seen that hash had less of an effect on Ollie than heroin.

They were lucky to catch the American cop just as he walked out of his hotel. They followed the cab and waited for the right moment to strike. Henry had instructed them to capture the detective and bring him back to their current headquarters. As a last resort, they were authorized to shoot him.

From the very beginning, Ollie mocked the American cop. He laughed at the way the cop stood in front of the hotel, waiting for a cab. He was tall and handsome and looked like a statue. Ollie stuck his hand in his shirt like Napoleon and posed. He said, “Why is an American detective here? Maybe he can scare criminals into surrendering in New York, but does he realize he has no pull here?”

Christoph laughed. He didn’t know why the American detective was here or what his interest in Henry was. All he knew was that his boss wanted the cop brought to him and that Henry paid well. For someone who made his living beating and killing people, it was a pretty simple task.

They were both shocked to see the cop go directly to the warehouse where Henry used to have an operation. This guy was well connected and informed.

Ollie said, “Let’s grab him as soon as he comes out of the warehouse. We can slip him into the back seat without anyone noticing.”

“What if he gives us a fight?”

“Henry said we could shoot him. You stand by with your pistol in case he gives me any shit.”

Christoph shrugged. His partner’s plan was simple and direct. He liked it.

The hitch came when they noticed an Estonian policeman they recognized approach the entrance to the warehouse.

Ollie said, “What’s that uptight prick doing here?”

“Probably the same thing as us.”

“Too bad Henry couldn’t get him on the payroll.”

Christoph said, “You think Henry would appreciate it if we blasted both of them right now?”

The decision was moot when a green Peugeot pulled up and the detective got inside.

Ollie said, “What should we do? Probably stay with him for a while, huh?”

Christoph had to agree.

CHAPTER 63

I CALLED MYgrandfather.

Fiore made me put the phone on speaker so he could hear everything we said. It was a pretty smart move. Too bad I had confidence that my grandfather was craftier than any FBI agent ever born.

He answered his personal residence phone immediately. He had a slight scratch in his throat and I knew I had woken him from a sound sleep.

I said, “Hey, Grandpa, it’s Michael calling from Estonia.” Me calling him “Grandpa” would’ve immediately alerted him that something was up. I could tell by the pause he was trying to figure it out.

He said, “What time is it there, Michael? Because it’s god-awful early here. Everything all right?”

“Sorry. I forgot you’re seven hours behind us in New York.”

“How’s the trip so far?”

I could tell he was stalling as he figured out what was going on. He had to hear that we were on speakerphone. I wasn’t going to make the obvious move and tell him. That might tip off the FBI agent that we were planning something.

“Everything’s good. I’m coming home early.”

“Why’s that?”

“The FBI is forcing me to go home. In fact, an agent is driving me to the airport right now. Can you call your friend at St. Laszlo’s and tell him I’ll pick up that reference material you needed?”

Seamus played it perfectly. All he said was “You bet, boyo.”

I thanked him and hung up. I looked over at Bill Fiore and said, “Satisfied?”

He nodded.

“I won’t tell an elderly priest that a good Catholic boy from Brookline, Massachusetts, didn’t trust him. And that you made me talk to him on speaker.”