Lost Read online

  One thing I’d noticed recently was that my mom tended to read the same books over and over. I thought she was just a huge Brad Meltzer fan until I realized she had read the same book of his, The President’s Shadow, at least four times in a row.

  It was tough to deal with my mom’s issues, but I could never put them out of my head. It was part of my upbringing; I’d been raised a good Lutheran and still attended services with my mom. I still believed. But like most humans, I had questions. That’s what had attracted me to philosophy in the first place. That whole notion of the search for truth.

  Philosophy came down to opinions. It wasn’t science. It was one man’s or woman’s idea of what life should be. So far, I hadn’t found any answers that would solve all my problems.

  I’d read what Plato and Schopenhauer and various other philosophers had said about adversity, but it was former president Bill Clinton who’d said it best: “If you live long enough, you’ll make mistakes. But if you learn from them, you’ll be a better person. It’s how you handle adversity, not how it affects you. The main thing is never quit, never quit, never quit.”

  It was that quote that kept me going sometimes. In football, in police work, and especially in dealing with my mother.

  Everything at home was fine, and after the call, I conked out almost immediately. In fact, when my room phone started ringing at seven forty-five the next morning, I was still lying on top of the covers in the khakis and blue button-down oxford I had been wearing the day before.

  It wasn’t a good idea for a guy my size to cram himself into a tiny airplane seat for a transatlantic flight and then spend the next twenty-four hours walking around town. As I reached for the phone, I heard creaks in my joints that reminded me of every time I’d caught a football and then been knocked to the ground by some defensive back.

  “Good morning, Detective Moon,” Marie Meijer said cheerfully. “Are you ready for another day of excitement in Europe’s most interesting city?”

  I know I made a sound like a groan before I said, “Please call me Tom, and please call me again in two hours.”

  She laughed and said, “I’ll meet half your demands. I’ll be in the lobby waiting for you in about ten minutes, Tom.”

  Before I could object, she hung up.

  Chapter 26

  SOMEHOW, TEN MINUTES later, I was in the lobby wearing clean clothes and searching desperately for a cup of coffee.

  Marie bounced into the hotel as if she’d just gotten back from vacation. She greeted the doorman by name and then we hopped in her official VW hatchback.

  It seemed like every third building was some sort of museum. When they talked history in Amsterdam, the topics were events that had occurred before the U.S. was a going concern. In South Florida, history meant the Cuban migration or Jackie Gleason living there in the seventies.

  It wasn’t all sightseeing; there was a purpose behind it. Marie explained how the city was laid out and told me where different crimes were most common. She also showed me potential safe houses for the Russian mob. At one point, we stopped by a building next to a canal.

  Marie said, “These apartments are often used to house people before they’re smuggled to their next destination. There’s going to be an operation to make some arrests tonight. I wanted to bring you so you can see what it’s like. There are some legal prostitution houses in this block as well,” she added.

  I was genuinely curious. “Did you find that legalizing prostitution had much of an effect on crime?”

  “There’s never an easy answer to things like that. Even if you legalize something, there’s still a black market. People think that decriminalization eliminates black markets, but those are people who don’t experience life on the streets. For customers who want to avoid taxes or identification, there’s always a market that the government can’t control. Legalizing prostitution has made Amsterdam a destination for desperate people, and that provides an avenue for human traffickers. They convince runaways or young people with drug problems that if they can just get to somewhere else, everything will be all right. It’s basically the same scam every criminal has used for the past two hundred years.”

  In the early evening we stopped at a café. I’d expected to throw down half a gallon of coffee to perk up, but as soon as we settled into a small table in the corner, I realized this was no ordinary café. This was one of the coffeehouses Amsterdam was famous for, the kind where they served pot along with coffee.

  It was not dark or dank. The different strains of marijuana were proudly displayed in glass containers. The conversations in the small coffeehouse were muted and private. A light shone on a poster of the Rolling Stones at Altamont. Except for the odor of pot in the air, it could’ve been any hipster hangout in the States. Commercial cigarettes and alcohol were both strictly forbidden in the coffeehouse.

  When I told Marie I knew what was up, she gave me a sly smile. “It’s completely legal here. At least, inside a place like this.”

  I glanced around at people enjoying pot-infused pastries or smoking joints or hookahs.

  Marie said, “Would you like to try marijuana legally?”

  “Just because it’s legal here doesn’t mean I’m allowed to try it.”

  Marie said, “Have you ever tried pot?”

  I laughed. “I went to the University of Miami. Of course I’ve tried it.”

  She ordered in Dutch. Before long, I had a cup of coffee and a lovely-looking pastry in front of me. Marie had the same. She also had a single, perfectly rolled joint.

  I said, “Knocking off early today, are we?”

  “No. Just breaking all kinds of rules.”

  I watched as she lit the joint with a plastic lighter and took a single puff. She handed it to me. I thought about it for a moment, then copied her single, light puff. If it was a test, I’d passed it. She put out the joint by crushing it under the edge of her coffee cup.

  Marie said, “I was hoping you weren’t one of those by-the-book cops who are so insufferable.”

  I let out a laugh and said, “I can be insufferable even while breaking the rules.”

  We chatted about differences between the U.S. and Europe. It was as nice an evening as I’d had in years. The pot seemed to hit me in waves. At first, it was just some ringing in my ears, but before I knew it, I felt the full effects.

  This shit was so much stronger than anything I’d ever tried in college. Of course, I hadn’t smoked a lot back then, and the few times I had, it was to fit in or impress a girl.

  I guess things hadn’t changed much.

  Marie asked me about the task force and I felt like I was slurring my words as I told her about it. Finally, I said, “No one realizes that Interpol is basically a series of databases with no real arrest powers.”

  “Isn’t it funny how people assume they know all about police work from movies?” Marie said. “My father always asks me if I have a CSI team with me. He watches reruns of the American show.”

  “I get that all the time. Especially with my size, people assume I’m duking it out with bad guys every day.”

  Marie laughed. “It’s true that much of our view of Miami police work comes from reruns of Miami Vice.”

  “It’s a good show, but it’s about as realistic as Game of Thrones.”

  “Another favorite. I prefer a good fantasy to some of the horror we have to face in real life.”

  I raised my coffee cup and said, “Amen, sister.”

  It might have been the pot, but we both laughed for a really long time.

  Chapter 27

  HANNA GREETE LOOKED across the small table at the two men she’d been chatting with for the past half hour. The older of the two men, Alexi, worked directly for Emile Rostoff. She said, “Can’t you talk to someone on my behalf?”

  Her overriding feeling was relief that she had not brought Albert with her.

  Alexi acted as if he was trying to help her. But she knew that, with the Russians, it was all about business. They wanted
her to pay them back, and she couldn’t pay them back if they killed her. That’s why she’d left Albert at home with Josie. Her brother would have stirred up even more trouble. He didn’t handle threats well.

  Alexi said, “We’re not a bank. You can’t pay in tiny installments. You owe us almost five hundred thousand euros. We want at least half in the next month.”

  “Five hundred thousand? That’s crazy. We borrowed three hundred thousand less than six months ago.”

  “Money is a commodity. Right now, the value of money is up.”

  “Not according to the European Union or any reasonable banks. Their interest rates are all hovering around one percent.”

  Alexi was not impressed with that reasoning. “You are most welcome to take out a loan to pay us back. One of the advantages would be that banks aren’t going to break your leg or follow your daughter home from school if you miss a payment. Why don’t you try for a loan?”

  That comment made the younger man with Alexi snicker. He was clearly Alexi’s answer to Albert—in his thirties, tall, well built, unshaven. He looked like a movie thug.

  Hanna said, “No, I don’t think I’ll get a loan from a bank. I have some money coming in soon and I’ll use it all to pay you off.”

  Alexi sat back and smiled. He had scars on his face that seemed to brighten when he smiled. They were like a map of his professional life. He had clearly been an enforcer when he was younger, and now he ran the operation for Rostoff out of the Noord District. Of course, Emile Rostoff ran the whole city. No one dealt directly with Emile, but if you did something to displease him, the results were almost always disastrous.

  Alexi said, “Everyone knows about the diamonds you bought. We’d be willing to cancel a hundred thousand of your debt for five nice diamonds. We don’t care where they came from.”

  Hanna had to be careful about how she played this. “If, hypothetically, I had any diamonds, they would be worth the full five hundred thousand.” She knew her estimate was about right, and she would jump at the opportunity if Alexi agreed.

  Instead, he shook his head and said, “I don’t deal in hypotheticals. And I don’t pay retail for diamonds. I hope your next load goes better for you so we can get paid. Mr. Rostoff’s man in Miami will help set everyone up with jobs. That will go a long way toward paying down your debt. But you’re going to have to do more. We are starting to lose patience.”

  The other man, whose English was much more accented than Alexi’s, said, “Tell your crazy brother not to do anything stupid.”

  Hanna looked hard at the younger man. “I can control my brother only so much. I can tell you’re afraid of him. That means you’re a little smarter than I thought.”

  She walked away before he could respond.

  Chapter 28

  THE NEXT DAY, Hanna and Albert went to check out the port at Rotterdam. She’d decided it was too dangerous to move the load out of Amsterdam. Between the police and the Russians, someone would cause headaches.

  In the late afternoon, they arrived back in Amsterdam to the apartment that held half a dozen of the younger people going on this trip. She had two older Indian men and several women at another apartment across town.

  The Indian men had paid for the trip up front. They just wanted a fast way into the U.S. Hanna used their money to pay for everyone else’s expenses.

  In addition, she had six girls divided among two apartments. The apartments held people going on other shipments with other groups. Hanna and her brother felt it was a way to minimize exposure and keep traffickers from turning other smugglers in to the police.

  She and Albert visited an apartment near the Emperor’s Canal. One of the teenage girls she’d stashed there stepped into the main room wearing tiny shorts and a T-shirt that looked like it was made for a little kid.

  Hanna greeted the girl and pulled her close to sniff her hair. “Where’d you get shampoo that smells like that?”

  The girl just shrugged and said, “The lady that works for you, Janine, bought it for us.”

  Hanna said, “Where’s Gregor?”

  The girl said, “He’s taking a walk with Freda.”

  Hanna grabbed Albert and pulled him out the door. As they walked down the hallway, she said, “First thing I want to do is scream at Janine for buying luxury items for these girls. They don’t need to worry about expensive shampoo until they’re in the U.S. getting ready for a job. And second, I told that prick of a landlord, Gregor, not to fraternize with the girls. Now, when I need to talk to him, he’s out touring the city with one of them.”

  They stepped outside the main entrance to the building and saw Gregor with his arm around the shoulder of the teenage girl. Albert said, “I’m guessing someone is about to be yelled at. If you need me to do anything more than that, just nod.”

  Hanna wasted no time walking up to the squat, middle-aged landlord. She poked him right in the chest until he took his arm away from the girl. “I told you not to have any social contact with these girls,” she said.

  Gregor backed away, raising his hands. Dark hair bristled on his forearms.

  Hanna glared at Freda and said, “Get back to the apartment now.” The girl ran into the building.

  The landlord said, “I’m not making any money housing these girls. All I want is a little bit of fun. It would be easy for me to go to the police and explain what you’re forcing me to do.”

  That was over the line. Hanna turned to her brother and nodded. Albert didn’t disappoint. He pulled out his favorite survival knife and let it dangle from his hand right in front of the landlord.

  Gregor stared at the knife for a moment.

  Hanna said, “This is a critical time. You will not tell anyone about what we’re doing. Not the police, not your friends, no one. And in case you don’t understand, Albert is going to make it clear for you.”

  She had no idea what her brother had planned, but she watched with great interest.

  Albert was very casual. He simply leaned forward slightly and flicked the knife up between the landlord’s legs. The sharpened tip was enough to pierce the man’s off-brand blue jeans and catch him right in the testicles.

  The landlord grunted, grabbed his groin, and dropped to his knees.

  Albert said, “And that was for even thinking about going to the police. Imagine what will happen if you really do.”

  As the siblings walked away, Hanna said, “I’ll admit that sometimes you’re more articulate than me.” She waited until they were at the end of the block and said, “This will be our last dealing with Gregor. Once the girls are on their way, make sure he doesn’t talk to anyone.”

  Albert just smiled.

  Chapter 29

  AFTER THE EFFECTS of my single puff of marijuana had worn off and Marie and I had had a decent dinner, she brought me back to the apartment complex she’d shown me earlier. We were at the edge of the Nieuwmarkt neighborhood in the Centrum-Amsterdam borough.

  Marie said, “I’ve tried to give you a good overview of the city’s criminal issues. The information I get on the group that tried to smuggle the kids into Miami comes from a couple of sources. The woman who runs the group is named Hanna Greete. She’s managed to keep a relatively low profile, but she deals with Russians, and Russians always talk about their competition among themselves.”

  I said, “It’s been my experience they don’t hesitate to talk about their competition to the police too.”

  “I haven’t been able to conduct decent surveillance on Hanna’s group because of a lack of resources. All anyone seems to care about anymore is terrorism. Human trafficking has taken a back seat. That’s why I work closely with our paramilitary agency, the Koninklijke Marechaussee. And that’s why I brought you here tonight.”

  I noticed the activity at the far end of the block. “You’re taking me on a police raid for our first date?”

  She smiled. “No, on our first date I dragged you all around the city after you had traveled for twelve hours. This is our second date.
And things will only get more exciting from here.”

  “Are these guys going to arrest Hanna Greete?”

  “This apartment is used by several different smuggling groups. I got this specific tip from some Russians, which means they’re not holding any people here themselves. We don’t have a lot of information, but we know that the man who owns the apartment building tends to like younger girls. It’s very common among these safe-house owners. And that’s not something our friends in tactical gear down the block appreciate.”

  I felt a twinge of excitement. This was a big deal. It also meant that Marie trusted me. She’d gone out of her way to involve me in this. After spending time with the kids we’d rescued from Miami International, I had a genuine interest in watching human traffickers taken down. I wanted to see a whole group rounded up. I wasn’t satisfied with the skinny Dutchman I’d grabbed at the airport.

  It was a swiftly evolving, complicated crime, but it didn’t capture the public’s attention as much as terrorism or narcotics did. I’d learned in the short time I was involved with this case how dangerous these human traffickers could be.

  Obviously, the Dutch police felt the same way. They were taking no chances. I watched as two different groups of men dressed in black tactical clothes with body armor and carrying MP5 machine guns hustled along the street in the shadows. They looked like a SWAT team from any major U.S. city. This was getting interesting fast.

  I said a silent prayer for the poor people in the building who were trying to get to the States. They might not have realized the danger they were in from these scumbags who viewed them only as a source of income.

  Chapter 30

  I WATCHED AS the SWAT team lined up outside the wide, decorative wooden door that had probably been handcrafted three hundred years ago. They were all precise and quiet, the definition of a good SWAT team.

  TV shows make SWAT teams look sexy and glamorous. In real life, it is a tough, physical job with endless training. Critics call them militaristic or threatening without ever considering the decisions SWAT members must make in a split second. And just the sight of a team has saved lives; that alone has made barricaded suspects surrender and dangerous crowds disperse. A SWAT team is the big dog you don’t always have to let off the leash.