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  I WAS CONCENTRATING so hard that when the phone on my desk rang, it startled me. As soon as I heard Marie Meijer’s voice on the other end of the line, a goofy grin spread across my face.

  After some small talk, Marie said, “I visited the kids at their facility. Monnie was reunited with her father and they’re leaving for Nairobi in two days.”

  I didn’t tell her that Monnie had already sent me a message on Facebook about it.

  Marie went on. “They’ve also made contact with Olivia’s mother. She’s been frantically searching for the little girl for the past four months. The Spanish authorities thought it was some kind of custody dispute with her ex-husband and never took the matter too seriously. The others are all fine and living like a little family. It’s really quite sweet. They’re just missing their giant, dim-witted father.” She let out a great laugh after delivering her little dig.

  I said, “I’m setting things up on this end in case another load of people comes in.”

  “One of my sources said they’re getting ready to move any day. I have surveillance on the Amsterdam and Rotterdam ports. We’re also monitoring all the airports in Western Europe with flights to Miami. My source thinks that’s where they’re headed again.”

  I said, “Have you heard any more specifics about the time of arrival or method of travel? Just like you, we have limited resources. There’s no way I can cover all the ports in South Florida and all the airports.”

  “I think it’s too many people to ride on a single commercial airliner. It would be too expensive. From what I hear, there are more than twenty people ready to be moved. That means it’s got to be by boat. We’re trying to figure out where and hopefully rescue the people while they’re still in Europe.” Marie paused, then added, “There’s something else.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Emile Rostoff is definitely involved. That means his brother in Miami will be too. My source says that the Russian we found in the street had been shot by Hanna’s brother.”

  “Can you arrest him for it?”

  “No. No evidence. But that means the Russians will be in no mood to fool around. I wouldn’t be surprised if our case ends with the murder of Hanna and Albert Greete.”

  I let out a laugh. “Sorry. I guess I should sound more concerned. I’ve had narcotics cases end that way. We say they’re ‘exceptionally cleared.’”

  “I like that term. Either way, it’s crucial to find these people being smuggled.”

  “It sounds like you should come to Miami. We need to work this case together.”

  “I agree. I’m trying to figure out the details now.”

  We chatted for a few more minutes, then I stepped out of my office and ran into Steph. “Hi,” I said.

  “Why are you in such a giddy mood?” she asked.

  “How can you tell what kind of mood I’m in from a quick hello in the hallway?”

  Steph smiled and put her hands on her hips. “Really? I spend more time with you than anyone else in your life does. Besides, if you’re not scowling, you’re probably in a good mood. All I’m saying is, keep it up. It’s a good look and good for the office.”

  I was getting the sense that maybe I wasn’t as collegial as I could be at work. Thank God for honest people like Steph. Aside from my mom and sister, she might have been the only person in the world I could count on.

  Chapter 49

  WHEN I SAW Anthony Chilleo walking past my office, I grabbed him and pulled him inside.

  After we talked for a minute about the task force and my trip, I got to my real concern. “Did anything happen with the Russians or my sister while I was gone? She claims that she didn’t even go out during my entire trip.”

  Chill smiled. “She didn’t leave the house after six on any of the days you were gone.”

  “Holy crap, you didn’t do a full surveillance on her the whole time I was away, did you?”

  He didn’t say a word but pointed to the bag of technical equipment he had given me weeks before. It was still where he’d left it; I hadn’t bothered to put it away yet. I knew it held several trackers and other devices.

  “You put a tracker on my sister’s car?”

  “Yep.”

  I stared at him as I searched for the right words. Then I nodded and said, “Brilliant.”

  Chill just shrugged. He’d been around a long time and knew every possible trick. Why physically follow someone when you can just check your phone and see where her vehicle is?

  But I didn’t like to think about how close Lila had come to being a bargaining chip in this deadly game. We were going to have to have a serious chat soon.

  I asked Chill, “Do you have anything new on Rostoff?”

  “He’s been holding off on a drug deal he was making with some Colombians. It must piss him off to know that someone is finally watching him. This is the first time he’s ever had a problem he couldn’t buy his way out of.”

  “That means he might get desperate and try to threaten us. Or worse.”

  Chill let out a snort. “Good luck with that.”

  I liked his attitude. I sensed that Chill didn’t do anything in a half-assed way. Maybe that’s why he had been married twice.

  I looked at him. “Keep your eyes open. You should probably warn your ex-wife as well.”

  “It’d be a sad day for any Russians who bother her. A redneck from Ocala with a concealed-weapons permit? I think she’ll be fine.”

  I believed him.

  Chapter 50

  Ostend, Belgium

  HANNA GREETE HAD spent a lot of time on this load. Minors tended to listen well, but this group was mixed ages. Hanna had a few teenagers, several Eastern European women, and two Indian men. The total count was twenty-three.

  Earlier, at her office, Hanna had supervised as one of her workers sewed the five blood diamonds Hanna intended to sell in the United States into a red Everest backpack. She’d already secured the tracking device in a pocket of the bag and had sewn the pocket shut. The woman had held up the backpack for inspection. Hanna ran her hands over the strap where the diamonds were hidden. Aside from a few bumps, there was no way to tell anything was concealed inside.

  She’d touched the pocket holding the tracker. “It’s bigger than I remembered.”

  Albert said, “It’s the same as the one I stuck on Marie Meijer’s car. I added a second battery pack so that it will work on the low setting for almost twenty days.”

  “Why is there a low and a high setting?”

  “It has to do with how strong the signal is. We’re losing some strength but gaining many extra days of use. I didn’t think you wanted to trust our cargo to switch out batteries halfway through the trip.”

  Satisfied with that part of her plan, Hanna had to firm up the details that would mean the difference between earning half a million euros or hiding from the Russians for the rest of her life.

  Hanna had noticed surveillance at the port in Rotterdam; she’d started looking at alternative ports. She’d finally settled on Ostend, Belgium, near Bruges.

  Her brother had put her in touch with the first mate of the Scandinavian Queen, a midsize freighter that operated under a Danish flag.

  Now Hanna was meeting the first mate at a bar in Ostend. The place didn’t even have a name. It was just “the bar near the port.” The bare concrete floor showed stains of old fights. Other stains represented where patrons had puked up the thick Belgian beer.

  She looked across the table at the tall, weather-beaten first mate. “My brother says you’re reliable and will make sure everyone arrives safely,” she said.

  The fifty-year-old sailor nodded, then took another giant gulp of beer from an oversize mug. Albert had told her the man had been on the ship for the past seven years.

  “For what I’m paying you, I expect reliability,” Hanna added. “I should probably expect more than that for the cost.”

  The sailor put down his mug and looked across the table at her. “You came to me. Not the
other way around. I know Albert and trust him, so I agreed. But taking shit from a skirt is not part of the price tag.”

  He seemed to think that he’d put her in her place, which bothered Hanna. She chose her next actions carefully. She stood up from the table and marched away. With every step, she expected the first mate to call out and stop her. She paused ever so slightly at the door, lifting her hand to the knob slowly.

  Still silence.

  She stepped through the doorway into the evening air of Ostend. A cool breeze blew from the water. She couldn’t have people she paid talking to her like that. She’d have to find another way to move the load.

  The specially built storage container she’d bought had already been moved to a facility just outside the port, and the plan was easy. Just before the ship was set to sail, she would have her cargo loaded. The extra-large container, with four air vents and a small toilet built into one corner, could be used over and over.

  Apparently, the container would now have to be on a different ship.

  As she reached her car, Hanna heard a man say, “Hold on.” It was the sailor.

  She opened the car door as if she hadn’t heard him.

  He raised his voice. “Perhaps I was a bit too blunt.”

  Hanna glanced at him. “Too stupid is more like it.”

  The man looked sheepish. Finally, he said, “I’ll do it. I can check on the container every day and bring them extra food. If I do it late enough, when most of the crew is asleep, I can even let them out onto the deck.”

  Hanna thought about it, then said, “No. I’ll hire someone else.” She slid into the car.

  The sailor stepped closer and said, “C’mon, I’ll do a great job.”

  Hanna said, “For half the money.”

  “You mean half the money up front?”

  “No, nothing up front and half of our original price when the load arrives safely. That’s my only offer now. Consider it a tax on being reactionary and sexist.”

  The man stood there, mulling over the offer. Finally, he said, “Damn, I thought your brother was the tough one.”

  Chapter 51

  Amsterdam

  MAGDA ANDRUSKIEWICZ SAT on the edge of the bed. If she looked out the window, she could catch a glimpse of the moon. She’d turned sixteen a few months earlier, but to the other girls in the room with her, she was something like a mother.

  Sitting next to her on the edge of the bed was a thirteen-year-old Belgian girl who couldn’t stop crying. The only common language they had was English, but the other girl’s accent was so thick it was difficult for Magda to follow what she was saying. As best she could tell, the girl was homesick. That didn’t explain why she was trying to get to the United States, but it did explain why Magda’s shoulder was soaking wet from the girl’s tears.

  Magda didn’t know what else to do but put her arm around the girl and tell her everything would be all right. That approach had worked with the other girl crammed into the room with them. She was also sixteen and had been crying earlier, but Magda had gotten her to lie down quietly and close her eyes. The exhausted teenager had fallen asleep almost immediately.

  Magda had left Poland with her older brother, intending to come to Amsterdam. They had met a nice man in Poland who’d said there was plenty of work in Amsterdam and easy transit to the U.S. from the Netherlands’ largest city.

  The trip was a series of bus rides and hostel stays until they reached Germany. There, in a chaotic Berlin station full of refugees from various nations, they’d been caught up in a crushing crowd, and she’d gotten separated from her brother. Magda didn’t have any identification or a working mobile phone, and she was too scared to go to the police.

  She waited in Berlin for three days, hoping to find her brother again, searching the streets; she’d even tried e-mailing him from an internet café.

  Out of options, she had found a way to get to the United States, thinking she could get in touch with her brother from there. The lady who had set everything up, Hanna, had even given her a new backpack with clothes and a few other things. Hanna told Magda that she could get her into the United States and that all Magda would have to do was work for someone in Miami to pay off the expense. It sounded like a pretty good deal.

  The girl Magda was comforting quieted down. After a few minutes, Magda realized she had fallen asleep in her arms. Magda looked through the window to see the moon one last time for the night.

  She settled the younger girl on an air mattress, then lay down on her own thin mattress and stared up at the ceiling. It was only then, after trying to comfort the two other girls in the room for most of the evening, that she wanted to cry as well.

  Magda wondered who would comfort her.

  Chapter 52

  Miami

  I KNEW EVERYONE in Miami, and as more information came from Marie Meijer, that was really starting to pay off.

  I had run down a dozen tips and confirmed some details, but we still didn’t know exactly how the load of humans was going to come into the United States. And as much as I wanted to know everything about the case and get it done as quickly as possible, I had other responsibilities.

  That’s why at lunchtime I drove my FBI-issued Ford Explorer at incredibly unsafe speeds back to my home in Coral Springs. I was well aware of the FBI restrictions on vehicle use, but sometimes you just had to be efficient and flout the rules. In my case, sometimes was all the time. My sister claimed I had a complex about authority and enjoyed breaking rules. I could never admit to her that she was right, I did enjoy it. Breaking rules had become my hobby.

  My mom had a doctor’s appointment, and I’d decided to take her to it since my sister had already done a lot more than her share of looking after her. I was also starting to worry about Lila’s drinking, but I was still working out a way to talk to her about it.

  That’s why I didn’t mind taking my mother to the neurologist, just across the county line in Boca Raton.

  My mom had been acting a little differently recently. I’d really noticed it since I’d gotten back to Miami. It wasn’t just being in the moment versus living in the past; she had started to get confused about exactly where she was and she wasn’t shy about expressing that confusion.

  In the car on the way to the doctor’s office, my mom asked, “Are you going to bring those kids by the house again? It was wonderful having young people around.”

  “I don’t think so, Mom. They were just visiting.”

  “I don’t suppose you’ll be supplying me with grandchildren anytime soon?”

  “Not unless I kidnap them. If I go the normal route, it could take a while. First I have to find a woman that I’m attracted to. Then we have to date and fall in love. We should share the same goals with regards to kids. And then, finally, we’d start the process of having one. I wouldn’t hold my breath.”

  “Nonsense. A tall, handsome, educated man like you should have his pick of women.”

  “Says his mom.”

  She laughed at that. The laugh lines that formed around her eyes made me smile. It was just like when I was younger, when I could talk to her about anything.

  We got to the doctor’s office and I checked us in while my mom took a seat in the lobby. There were a few people there, the usual assortment of elderly men accompanied by concerned wives or children. I had seen it all before in the three-year odyssey of my mother’s disease.

  While we were sitting there waiting, out of the blue my mom said very loudly, “Where are we?”

  “At Dr. Spirazza’s office.”

  “Who? Why aren’t we at Dr. Goldman’s office? I like her.”

  “Because Dr. Spirazza is a neurologist. He might be able to give us some tips on how to manage your issues.”

  My mom said, “What issues?” Her voice got louder; it was starting to make me nervous. “The only issue I have now is that I’m not seeing Dr. Goldman.”

  I could see in her posture and movements that she was getting agitated. I had no real respons
e to it. The man sitting next to her slid over another seat. A woman who was accompanying her father gave me an understanding look. But my mom became more upset.

  I held her hand and stroked her arm, but it had no effect. I kept my cool and finally thought of something. I looked at my mother and said, “What’s the difference between a jellyfish and a lawyer?”

  The question immediately caught her attention and she calmed down. She was intrigued as she considered the options. Finally, she asked me, “What’s the difference?”

  “One is a spineless, poisonous blob. The other is a form of marine life.” It was an old joke, but it made her laugh hard. And then, for no apparent reason, she went back to normal and started quietly flipping through an AARP magazine.

  The woman with the older man smiled and said, “You’re a pro, aren’t you?”

  “You can catch my show nightly at the Improv.”

  Even my mom chuckled at that one.

  Chapter 53

  NO ONE EXPECTS a philosophy major to be terribly organized. And by FBI standards, I was not. That didn’t stop me from being effective, but still, sometimes the mess got to me.

  It took me an hour to get my office just the way I wanted it. Stacks of papers that had been sitting on the credenza behind the desk were now in either the shred basket or the filing cabinet. The stuff pinned to my bulletin board was updated. I recognized that some of the previous reminders, like a to-do list from two and a half years ago that I’d carried with me from the Miami Police Department, were probably no longer useful.

  I’d even used the tiny vacuum cleaner someone had brought in to give the carpet a good once-over.

  Steph Hall stepped into the doorway and said, “Wow, I didn’t know you had so much room. What’s the occasion?”

  “No occasion. It was just getting a little messy.”

  “We all assumed that was the natural order of things with you. The office looks about the same as it did right after you moved in. What are you going to do for an encore this afternoon? Maybe wash your Explorer?”