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  Ollie looked placidly at his partner. “It’s my image. I have to sell it. No one expects a sloppy, fat guy like me to be a killer. You, you look like a professional. Tall, handsome. You scare people. I’m an asset when I look like this.”

  Christoph saw his point. He said, “Henry’s expecting us. I’m sure he wants us to do something with the cop.”

  Ollie said, “I think the American is too risky. He doesn’t look like any kind of pushover. Henry hasn’t offered any bonus for this job, either.”

  “Are you saying we should pass on the job?”

  “I’m saying, as professionals, we need to evaluate the assignment, not just agree to everything Henry says. If you haven’t noticed, he’s become a little unhinged. He’s into feuds and grudges. He may not be our best choice of employer going forward.”

  “Do you want to tell him that now?”

  Ollie shook his head. “Let’s see how much trouble the American is first. If we even pick up on his trail again. We need to think about ourselves and our future.”

  Christoph realized how much he’d underestimated his partner.

  Chapter 67

  I crossed the street in front of the little café. There was no real traffic. Not by New York standards, anyway. A tiny Fiat, a Mini Cooper, and some odd eastern European car whizzed by. They made me feel like a giant.

  The building I was walking to was more of an office than a warehouse. It was modern and stood three stories high. The windows were on the small side, making me think it was an older building. No doubt it was solid.

  Inside the tiny lobby, I checked the directory. The only business officially listed was a web designer on the top floor. The five other nameplates were blank.

  A ground-floor door to the left of the directory was ajar. I looked through the opening but couldn’t see much, so I tentatively touched it and pushed it open. I was trying not to give away my element of surprise, all I had in this situation.

  The wide room was about fifty feet long with high ceilings. A catwalk ran around the edges of the room with a few office doors spaced along it. The space looked like it’d been a small factory floor where a boss could walk around and watch the workers below.

  The place was empty except for a few desks and tables. I didn’t see anyone around. I slipped all the way inside. When I had stepped about twenty paces from the door, I heard a voice.

  “Hello, Mr. Bennett. I’ve been expecting you.” The speaker had a slight accent. It almost sounded Russian, with a hint of Scandinavian.

  A man stepped onto the catwalk. It was the same man I’d seen from the café, still in his blue T-shirt and casual slacks. “I thought you’d have been here sooner.”

  I said, “You must be Endrik Laar.”

  “Please, call me Henry.”

  I wasn’t sure what I had expected. The file description had just said white and male. Jennifer Chang had mentioned he was about thirty, on the short side, and a workout buff, but I guess I hadn’t thought of all the variables.

  He was shorter than I’d imagined. Maybe five six. He was definitely ripped. The veins in his arms told me he was serious about weights. His whole look screamed steroids. Add in the agitated pacing and I could see why people were afraid of him. Maybe he really was as smart as I’d heard. A mix of smart and crazy was rarely good.

  I kept my composure when two men stepped through the doorway near me. They kept walking until they were positioned on either side of me, about a dozen feet away. They didn’t know I had a gun, and I thought I’d save that surprise. Maybe it would teach Henry something as well.

  Then a man stepped through a doorway across the room from me. It was the janitor from the last warehouse, Gunnar. That surprised me.

  Henry smiled and said, “I didn’t want to take any chances. We thought it would be easier for you to come to us than for us to find you. Gunnar was kind enough to wait for you at our last location and tell you where to go. But then you didn’t show up here right away.”

  The gray-haired “janitor” smiled and said, “And by the way, mate, my English is pretty good. I was raised in North Hampton.”

  Son of a bitch, Henry had already made me feel stupid.

  This was not the first impression I had wanted to make.

  Chapter 68

  Staring up at the master cybercriminal standing on the catwalk, my mind raced. Even with the surprises Henry was throwing at me, I tried not to show what I was thinking. It was time to get some answers. I decided to treat our conversation like any other interview: start with easy questions, then move on to the hard ones. Simple.

  I said, “How’d you know I was in Estonia?”

  Henry gave me a laugh that sounded fake. Practiced. “We break corporate security systems. Did you really think we couldn’t clone the mayor’s phone and hack his email? I’ve known everything you were going to do. I even know the nasty name the NYPD calls the mayor. And, by the way, so does he. Shame on you. LFP indeed.” He wagged his finger at me.

  I no longer thought of the mayor as a little fat prick. Now I realized there were too many people fitting that description. Take out the fat and Henry was at the top of the list at the moment.

  I said, “I’m impressed you could hack the mayor of New York’s phone without being detected. It’s really quite clever.” I chose my words carefully. To Henry, clever would be an insult.

  Henry said, “It seems I can do whatever I want and the authorities will never catch me. It’s almost not fun anymore.” He flexed his arms when he moved. It must’ve impressed someone at some time.

  I laughed aloud. And it wasn’t practiced. It was a sincere chuckle.

  “And what’s so amusing?”

  I made sure to look Henry in the eye. “If I had a dollar for every half-assed crook who said something like that, I could retire.”

  “I can assure you, there is nothing half-assed about me.”

  “If you have to tell people, that means you probably are half-assed. It’s sort of like when you have to tell people you’re in charge. That means you’re probably not.” That little comment would get under his skin, too.

  Henry was silent for a moment. Finally he said, “I’ve read about the great homicide detective. The newspapers say you never give up.”

  I didn’t know where this conversation was leading, but it wasn’t going anywhere good. I stole a quick look at the men on either side of me. They were both young and fit. They didn’t look like computer programmers. One of the men had a blue teardrop tattoo near his right eye. The other was tall and sleek. His shirt almost looked like a uniform with his broad shoulders and narrow waist. He was ready for action right now. I also knew if I went for one, the other would be able to strike me from behind. I didn’t think it was time to pull my pistol.

  I looked up at Henry and said, “It’s true I’m not known for giving up. But I’ll make you a deal right now.” I noticed how our voices echoed in the wide, open room.

  “I’m intrigued. Please, go ahead.”

  “If you give me Natalie right now, I’ll leave and you’ll never hear from me again. I won’t say a word to any law enforcement entity. All I want is to bring the girl back to her parents.”

  “And you leave Estonia?”

  “Tonight. I already have a flight.”

  Henry chuckled and clapped his hands together. I was starting to wonder if this asswipe believed he was some sort of super villain from a James Bond movie.

  Henry said, “Ah, the great savior. I’m afraid you’re too late to save Natalie from a life of crime and return her to her loving parents.”

  My heart sank. Had this asshole killed her? I stood there in stunned silence. I considered pulling my pistol right then.

  It would’ve been a pleasure to show this arrogant prick how smart he really was.

  Chapter 69

  I still hadn’t said another word, but the way I’d turned my body must’ve alerted Henry’s hired thugs. Gunnar and the other two changed positions slightly and looked like they we
re ready to jump me.

  The one with the teardrop tattoo worried me. At least in the US you had to earn that particular tattoo. And it wasn’t from winning a softball tournament. He wouldn’t hesitate to pull the trigger.

  Then a thought flashed through my head. If I was going to die anyway, maybe I really should dispense a little street justice. I wasn’t sure what my grandfather would say about something like that. And I knew it wasn’t what Jesus would’ve done, but he was a pretty high standard to live up to.

  I calculated the shot. There would be no time to aim carefully with the pistol. And it was a pistol I was unfamiliar with. But I reckoned it could be done. I’d have to tune out all the others. That meant I’d be plugged a dozen times before I fired five shots.

  The alternative was to do nothing and get plugged only once later, while kneeling. Either way, the outcome wasn’t what I would have preferred. But by shooting Henry now, I might help another girl in the future.

  I said a silent prayer. I said to Maeve: Keep watching over the kids.

  Then a door on the catwalk, to the right of Henry, opened. A young woman walked out. She was in a simple dress with a heavy wool sweater. Her light-brown hair was now cut short. She wore stylish, wide-framed glasses.

  It was a new look, but after a moment I recognized her: Natalie Lunden.

  I turned my attention back to Henry and said, “What kind of asshole plays a game like that?”

  He grinned.

  Natalie spoke up. “I wasn’t forced here. No one made me leave New York and come to Tallinn. I even paid for my own airline ticket. There’s no reason for you to worry about me or cause problems here.”

  Her voice was steady and calm. She still sounded like a young person, but she didn’t sound nervous or under duress.

  I thought of the photo her father had on the wall of his office. She wore a little dress and was about five or six years old, smiling from ear to ear, holding the mayor’s hand. What had happened?

  I said, “Your dad and mom are worried sick about you.” That had the effect I wanted. She looked stricken. Then I threw in, “Why haven’t you called them?”

  She took a moment, then her brown eyes settled on me. “I wouldn’t bother my father about anything. He’s too tied up trying to save the world and raise his new sons. But I don’t want my mom to worry. I’ve thought about calling her, but I can’t risk exposing our operation. We still have a lot of work to do. I’ll figure a way to get a message to her tonight.”

  Damned if she didn’t sound sincere. I was starting to think I’d wasted a trip. I hoped I hadn’t wasted my life. I wasn’t here to compel someone to return to the US. I was here to save a girl I thought had been forced into doing something she didn’t want to do. I knew she was smart, but I’d still been worried about her.

  When she put her arm around Henry’s waist, then dropped her head to his shoulder, I understood the situation.

  The door behind me opened and closed again. I turned and watched an odd pair of men strut toward the center of the room. One was tall with neat, blond hair. The other looked like a character actor in a cheap stoner movie. His stringy, dark hair spread out over his shoulders. The T-shirt from an AC/DC concert drooped over his belly like an awning.

  Henry stepped up to the railing and leaned over it. He was clearly annoyed. He said, “Finally Ollie and Christoph have decided to grace us with their presence. And they never completed their assignment. I had to do it for them.”

  The slovenly man smiled and said, “Thanks, Henry. It’s nice to get a little help once in a while.”

  I didn’t try to hide my smile. I liked a radical, no matter who he worked for. Radicals tended to make life more interesting. It was the kind of comment I might have made. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that I knew this guy. At least I knew I’d seen him.

  I studied the two men. They looked so familiar. Then it hit me. They were the shooters from the coffeehouse, Brew, back in New York.

  Chapter 70

  I wasn’t in New York, where someone might call in the cavalry, or at least the cops. I would’ve loved to see a SWAT team about now. I’d never again make fun of their fixation on tactics and training. In fact, if I got out of this, I had some apologies to make. Maybe to some cybercrime experts in the Intel Bureau as well.

  I felt like I was doomed. Henry wouldn’t have called in these two if he was going to let me walk away. These were the kind of men who killed you, then stuffed you in the trunk of a car. The irony of it was, now that I knew Natalie was safe, I would gladly walk away. That is, if I was given a choice.

  The guy with the teardrop tattoo and the sleek thug were still on either side of me. I couldn’t just break and run. They’d have no qualms about shooting me in the back.

  Still, no one had searched me. That was going to be a hell of a surprise. I calculated the advantages of pulling the pistol now or waiting. The longer I waited, the better chance someone had of discovering the gun. It also gave them the opportunity to bind my hands and keep me from moving.

  But if I waited, I could surprise whoever drove me in the car. It would probably be just the three of us. I liked those odds if I had the element of surprise.

  I still had hope. That was the key to a happy life. Hope. Just like I hoped to see my children grow up. I still had hope that Brian would get out of prison. I hoped to marry Mary Catherine soon, and I hoped these assholes would be careless enough not to search me.

  I looked up at Henry. “You don’t have the guts to do your own dirty work?”

  “I see you still haven’t given up. Good for you. I don’t know what kind of trap you’re trying to walk me into, but I already told you I’m too smart for that. No matter what you think you’ve worked out. I’m a step ahead of you.”

  I could tell by the way he’d delivered the little speech that he believed it. Absolutely and completely. In his eyes, he was equivalent to Einstein. And that would be his weakness. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually someone with that high of an opinion of himself always got knocked down.

  The main problem, at least in my mind, was that if he was knocked down in the future it wasn’t going to help me now.

  The two men I’d seen in New York—Christoph and Ollie—stepped closer to me. They spoke English with an accent different from anyone else’s in the room. It sounded German or Dutch. It wasn’t anything I could use at the moment.

  I said to the slovenly man in the AC/DC shirt, the one who looked like an Ollie, “I was in the coffeehouse in New York when you and your buddy opened fire.”

  He chuckled. “Wild show, eh? Good thing those don’t happen every day, no?”

  “I imagine in your line of work they happen more often than most people think.”

  It was his buddy, the tall guy—probably Christoph—who answered. “We’re professionals. It depends on the circumstances and what our assignment is. If we don’t want a public shoot-out, we don’t have one. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. If it wasn’t for Alice and Janos, there wouldn’t have been any problems at all.”

  “Are those the other killers you gunned down?”

  The neat, well-groomed Christoph smiled. “We’re used for contracts on professionals.”

  The heavy, sloppy Ollie added, “And on cops.” He had a breezy, endearing smile. It’d be hard not to like him in other circumstances.

  Christoph said, “Aren’t Americans used to public shootings?”

  “Not by slipshod amateurs like you. It must’ve been embarrassing knowing you had to use that kind of firepower on two unsuspecting people. Now you had to get extra help just to deal with me. Don’t you have any standards?”

  I could tell I was getting to the neat killer. He had an image he was trying to maintain. Just like Henry. The fat one, Ollie, couldn’t have cared less. He said something in Dutch and his buddy didn’t say another word.

  From the catwalk, Henry called out, “Enough. You can chat with him on the way. Just get him out of my sight
. We have work to do. We need to go to the new office.” He clapped his hands to get everyone moving quickly.

  It was more information but nothing that could help me right now. I felt a little desperation creep into my mind. I might have to do something drastic soon.

  Then the door behind me burst open, and I turned quickly. The door hung at an odd angle, swaying on broken hinges, as someone began to enter the room. I saw the gun first.

  It was the FBI’s finest: Bill Fiore.

  Chapter 71

  All eyes were on the FBI agent. Fiore looked focused as he stepped all the way into the room. He took a position near a concrete support column close to the door. He showed good tactical sense.

  Everyone stood perfectly still. Including me. They just stared at the portly FBI agent with his Glock 9mm held out in front of him. Just as I was thinking, Don’t say something like “Freeze” or “You’re all under arrest,” Fiore opened his mouth.

  He said, “Nobody move.”

  Great. That should scare them into submission. I stepped backward until I was close to him. The heavy support column was a few steps to our left. I checked it out because something told me we might need it.

  Then the handsome Christoph, the one who’d started shooting in New York, pulled a pistol from behind his back. At almost the same time the “janitor,” Gunnar, did the same thing.

  Out of instinct, I yelled, “Gun.” It was the universal signal among police that there was real danger in real time.

  Fiore fired three times quickly before we both jumped to our left, behind the column. Before I did, I saw Gunnar go down. His pistol clattered on the hard, tiled floor. Blood quickly leaked into the grout and spread all around him. There was nothing neat or clean about a bullet wound.

  I had to ask Fiore, “How’d you find me?”

  “You gave me the address, you moron. You said it was across from Toit’s City.”