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  As I approached the Charger, I noticed how dark the windows were tinted. I couldn’t see a thing in there. Before the alarm traveled to my brain, someone poked a TEC-9 out of a cracked-open window.

  You’ve heard of an Oh, shit moment? I literally said, “Oh, shit,” as I fell back, drawing my service weapon as I went down. I don’t know how many times the asshole in the car fired. I’m not even sure how many times I fired. I just pulled the trigger on my way to the ground. Forensics later found three slugs in a parked car and one in a tree behind me.

  The car squealed away, but three hours later, a twenty-two-year-old convicted carjacker showed up at Jackson Memorial with a bullet deep in his shoulder and a wounded left ear. The surgeon later told me it was almost a perfect circle in his lobe, like the wide-gauge ear-piercings kids have. The surgeon was amused. He’d seen a lot of bullet wounds, but this was the most entertaining.

  Good for him, but personally, I’ve never found bullet wounds or gunfights entertaining.

  I was on leave for only three days before I was cleared of the shooting, but it left me shaky. For almost six months after that, I was nervous whenever I approached a car. It didn’t help when the shooter pleaded guilty and got only a year in the county jail. There are always side effects to a shooting for a cop. And the effects are cumulative.

  I hoped Lorena snapped back quickly. Like any nice Cuban girl born in Miami, she had plenty of family around her. The same family that had begged her not to go into police work in the first place. I once met her father, a dermatologist who lived in Weston. He didn’t seem like he would ever give up trying to convince his daughter that it wasn’t too late for her to become an accountant.

  I briefed Chill and Steph about finding Magda, now safe at the station with my friend Tosha watching her, and told them that Miami Police had located all the other people from the container.

  Chill said, “What now?”

  “We can make a case against the traffickers from Amsterdam, but it’s the Russians I want to tie up in this mess. No way we can let them skate,” I said.

  “Can’t let that prick Rostoff get away with shit like this.”

  I agreed with him.

  “How do we find the Dutch traffickers?” Steph said. “They could be anywhere.”

  I smiled. “We make them come to us.” I grabbed a backpack from inside my car and started walking toward the band shell in Bayfront Park.

  I intended to let the cheap tracker and wide-open sky do some legwork for us.

  Chapter 89

  HANNA AND ALBERT brooded on a bench near Miami Dade College’s downtown campus. Hanna had just checked on Tasi, who was recovering from her injuries at a hotel in Little Havana. Earlier in the morning, they had left her lying on a king-size bed with ice bags on her face.

  Hanna had never seen her brother hang his head before, but right now, his head was drooping toward the sidewalk.

  Hanna thought about Josie and started to cry. Her brother put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her tight to him. He said, “We’ll get her back.”

  “How? We need that backpack.”

  “I have several plans ready. By the time I’m done with Billy and his friends, there won’t be many people left in Miami who speak Russian.”

  Hanna shook her head. “I can’t risk Josie. We’re going to negotiate.” She stared hard at her brother and said, “Understand?”

  Albert nodded.

  Hanna thought about her own teenage years, about the abuse she took from her father. Albert would always step between the two of them. She didn’t know how many beatings her brother had taken for her, but it was more than she could ever pay back. And he was still willing to risk everything for her and her daughter.

  This had all turned into a tremendous mess, and Hanna had no idea how to fix it. She decided that if she hadn’t found Magda and the bag by tonight, she would meet Billy the Russian in person and see what she could give him in exchange for her daughter. It was a sobering and terrifying prospect.

  Hanna wondered what she could offer Rostoff instead of the diamonds. They would probably take Albert, just so they could exact revenge. She wasn’t going to sacrifice her brother. But she would sacrifice herself if need be.

  She didn’t like the idea. She’d go back to work as a prostitute, as she’d done in her early twenties, to pay off her debt to the Russians. She’d do it happily if it meant Josie was safe.

  Hanna considered all the selling points she could make during the negotiation. If the Russians took her as payment, they’d have an experienced woman who could handle herself in different situations. Plus the Russians would eliminate their competition in Amsterdam. The Russians were always looking for an edge in business. She could make the argument that this would give it to them.

  Albert perked up on the bench next to her. He nudged her and held up his phone. “Look, look. We’re getting a clear signal.” He held the iPhone out so they could both look at the tiny map with a flashing blue dot that had appeared on the screen.

  Hanna sat up straight and said, “Is that the tracker? Where’s the signal coming from?”

  Albert said, “Close by.” He raised his eyes and looked across the street, then north toward the American Airlines Arena. “She’s real close. Maybe over in that park.”

  He stood up and started moving in that direction, holding the phone out in front of him.

  For the first time in a couple of days, Hanna felt real hope.

  Chapter 90

  I SAT ALONE at a picnic table just in front of the park’s concert band shell, Biscayne Bay behind me. Marie waited in my car because this was not the right time to have her in public and meeting people. I’d been careful to place my team in the right spots. I kept up a calm demeanor, but I had no illusions about what could go wrong. It wasn’t just my safety—the whole team could be at risk. If the Russians showed up, we’d probably be outnumbered and outgunned.

  A few cars rolled along Biscayne Boulevard. It was the perfect place to sit and watch for surprises. The red backpack sat on the table with nothing blocking the signal from the tracker. My pistol sat in my lap under the table, though I hoped it didn’t come down to fast gunplay. I wanted to be ready just in case. This was all my plan, from start to finish. No one else could be blamed if it went wrong. That was exactly how I wanted it.

  It was a beautiful Miami afternoon with a breeze off the ocean. The sun was starting to dip behind some of the taller buildings, and I thought I could see some buzzards roosting on the state building downtown. It was one of the more famous quirks of the Magic City; no one had ever explained why the buzzards preferred that building.

  I felt a trickle of sweat run down my back. It was nerves, I knew. A good cop doesn’t ignore little signs like perspiration. I took a breath and thought about how this might play out.

  I’d never dealt with Dutch criminals before, but from what I’d heard about Albert Greete, he was a badass through and through. In Miami, I could usually spot badasses. They weren’t the guys in muscle shirts with big biceps; those were the showy loudmouths. The truly dangerous people in Miami were quiet and watched everything. They noticed when other people were nervous or tried to signal partners. The quiet, dangerous people never gave you a second chance.

  If this Dutch dude Albert and his sister, Hanna, were like that, I had plenty to worry about. And that’s why I had kept Marie out of sight.

  Then I spotted them. They weren’t hiding their approach. A man and a woman in their thirties walking across the parking lot, weaving between the cars.

  The woman, Hanna, was very attractive, with brown hair and a lean, athletic body.

  Her brother looked exactly like I’d expected him to—jeans, a loose shirt to cover a gun, and eyes that were fixed on me. He was shorter than me but in good shape, with broad shoulders and thinning hair. He was not intimidated.

  Behind them, casually waiting by parked cars, were my partners and Marie Meijer.

  Now the brother and sister were abs
olutely focused on me. They saw the backpack in plain sight and clearly wanted to discuss it. That meant Albert wasn’t checking his surroundings and didn’t see Steph and Chill start to follow him at a distance.

  Hanna appeared calm as she approached. Maybe it was because she realized I was waiting for them.

  When they were five yards away, they stopped directly in front of me. There were no civilians anywhere in the park. Looking at it tactically and as a police officer, I’d say the setting was perfect.

  Hanna said in accented English, “You’re the man we saw with Marie Meijer in Amsterdam. So you’re a cop too.”

  I waited in silence for a few moments, then said, “My name is Tom Moon. I’m a Miami police detective.” I kept a close watch on her brother as he gave me the stink-eye. I could tell Albert was used to people crumbling under his stare. Welcome to Miami, pal.

  Hanna said, “At least you don’t work for the Rostoffs.”

  Her brother added, “Or do you?”

  I let out a laugh. “I would gladly trade you two if I could arrest Roman Rostoff.”

  That seemed to satisfy them.

  Hanna said, “So what do we do now?”

  “Before you do anything stupid, I should probably point out that there are two armed federal agents behind you.”

  Albert’s head snapped around as he swiveled to look behind him.

  Chill smiled and waved with his left hand; his right hand held a Glock nine-millimeter.

  Steph held her own Glock along the seam of her pants.

  Albert turned so they could see his hand was on his gun too.

  Just another day in Miami.

  Chapter 91

  I STARED AT the two Dutch human traffickers. I was not particularly shocked that everyone standing around me held a gun. I was holding one too, just not as obviously. On the bright side, no one had been shot yet. That was a plus.

  A flutter of nerves ran through me. I had to look at my overall plan and take a few risks.

  Hanna said, “No one would benefit from a gunfight. I have only one goal—to save my daughter.”

  Steph Hall said, “Then tell your brother to drop his pistol. Have him put down the gun and we’ll talk.”

  I was glad we had Marie stashed in one of the cars for now.

  Hanna looked around at each of us, trying to decide what to do, for what felt like an hour. Her brother, meanwhile, was sizing us up, assessing whom to shoot first and what would be his best escape route. There was something about Albert that set me on edge, though I guessed he would hold off on using the gun. I assumed he didn’t want to risk his sister being shot.

  I took a breath, trying to keep calm in case I had to start shooting. I gripped my pistol tighter; it was still hidden from view under the table. I calculated how long it would take me to raise it.

  Both Chill and Steph showed great tactical sense by standing off to the side in case I did exactly that. It was just another example of our team starting to jell.

  Albert raised his left hand and opened his fingers wide as he said, “What if we compromise?” He held his pistol in his right hand with only two fingers and slowly tucked it into the waistband of his jeans.

  Normally, a cop would never let that kind of bullshit go. But this wasn’t a normal situation and these weren’t our typical Miami knuckleheads. I was sensing a possible inroad to the Rostoff organization if we played this right.

  I kept the gun in my hand as I calmly said, “Tell me what happened to your daughter.”

  Hanna surprised me by stepping over to the picnic table. She sat on the bench directly across from me. She had a pretty face and piercing brown eyes.

  She said, “My daughter, Josie, was kidnapped last night from a hotel near the airport. The kidnappers will exchange her for some diamonds that are in that pack. I don’t think we have any other options. We couldn’t get her back if we were on the run for killing three police officers. That is, if we even managed to walk away from a gunfight. You have to believe me—the only thing that matters to me is getting my daughter back.”

  I thought about that for a moment, then said, “Do you know the people who took your daughter?”

  “The man I’ve been talking to is named Billy—”

  I said, “Does he have a goatee that’s dyed blue?”

  Her face told me we were dealing with Billy the Blade.

  Chapter 92

  I LISTENED TO Hanna with an open mind. Steph Hall holstered her pistol.

  Albert looked at Steph like Wile E. Coyote looked at the Road Runner. He had no interest in becoming friends.

  Hanna finished explaining about the diamonds and her daughter and the Russians. We sat in silence for a few moments. Then I said, “We could help you get your daughter back.”

  “This man, Billy, is no fool. I know he’ll kill her if he has any hint the police are involved. The only way to get her back is to trade the diamonds for her. If you let me do that, I will turn myself in, I’ll testify against Billy, I’ll do anything. But I have to get my daughter back first.”

  She was direct and to the point. It left me stumped. I wanted Hanna’s daughter returned safely too. I hadn’t forgotten that Hanna was a human trafficker who’d ruined the lives of dozens of people and allowed at least four of them to die, but that didn’t mean her daughter had to die as well.

  I thought about it, and I was thankful no one felt the need to fill the silence with useless chatter. But I kept an eye on Albert. He was a wild card who might be a little crazy.

  I looked from Steph to Chill. I bet they were great poker players, because they didn’t give me a hint of what they were thinking.

  Finally, I slid the backpack across the table to Hanna. The look on her face told me how shocked she was.

  She wasn’t the only one.

  Steph said, “Wait a minute.”

  “Take it and go,” I told Hanna. “Get your daughter back.”

  I tried not to chuckle at the confused expression on Albert’s face. A hard-core criminal like him wasn’t used to a helping hand from the police.

  I sat in silence as we watched the brother and sister walk west across the parking lot, the backpack slung over Hanna’s left shoulder.

  I knew the conversation with my partners was going to be interesting.

  Chapter 93

  STEPH HALL PLOPPED onto the bench across from me. Outrage was written across her face. “Are you insane?” she practically shouted.

  I shrugged and said, “Possibly. I’d have to blame it on my DNA.”

  Chill, standing in front of me, said, “Not cool, Anti. We worked hard for that arrest. We deserved it.”

  “You know as well as I do that Billy the Blade is not gonna fool around. He wouldn’t think twice about slitting that girl’s throat. Hell, I’ve seen his handiwork over on Hallandale Beach.” I looked at Steph and Chill as I let them think about what might happen to that girl. “I had to let Hanna leave with the backpack. I’m sorry, but the FBI would only screw up the rescue. None of you can tell me a girl’s life is worth a few diamonds.”

  Steph regained her composure and said, “You don’t have the authority to give away evidence and let human traffickers leave.”

  “And yet that’s what I just did.”

  Chill said, “It’s not even legal.”

  I shook my head and said, “No, it’s not necessarily legal, but it’s the right thing to do.”

  I motioned for Chill to join us at the picnic table. Now I had my annoyed coworkers sitting around me. They were not in the mood to hear me explain my reasoning, but I guessed I’d earned enough credit for them to let me speak.

  I said, “Everything is going according to plan.”

  Steph said, “Your plan was to give away a fortune in evidence and let our main suspects go?”

  I said, “How did they know to come to the park to find the bag? Because they have a tracker sewn into the backpack.” I pulled out my iPhone and brought up a display. “Do you think that’s the only tracker in t
he world? Chill gave me a bag of electronics that included trackers a few weeks ago.” I held up my phone to show them the little map with the flashing signal. I said, “Looks like they’re still on foot. The tracker should lead us directly to the Russians. We might be able to wrap this whole thing up after they get the girl back.”

  Steph stood up quickly and said, “We have to start following them. It’ll take a few minutes to get the surveillance organized.”

  I unclipped the compact Miami police radio from my belt, mashed the button, and said, “Smooth Jazz, do you have eyes on the target?”

  Alvin Teague’s voice came over the radio. “They’re about to get into a blue Chevy rental car and I have the tracker on my phone. I have detectives in each direction on Biscayne. This’ll be the easiest surveillance in history.”

  I looked up at Steph, who was staring at me with an open mouth. All I could say was “Teague may be a pompous ass, but he’s one hell of a good cop.”

  I would enjoy the memory of that look on her face for the rest of my life.

  Chapter 94

  HANNA GREETE WAS still in shock that the big cop had handed over the backpack without even asking for a bribe. Albert checked to make sure the diamonds were still in place. The police hadn’t even bothered to open up the strap. The diamonds were still there, a ridge under the fabric.

  Hanna had only one goal—to get Josie back safely.

  Now she and Albert sat in La Carreta, a Cuban restaurant on Eighth Street in Little Havana. Albert had eaten some kind of ham sandwich. She had picked at chips that looked like they were made out of bananas and stared at her phone.

  Finally, she called Billy, afraid of what he might say.

  Billy answered the phone with his usual exuberance, shouting, “Hello, Hanna!”

  “How quickly can you meet us?” Hanna asked.