Lost

by James Patterson

  I never realized how many ships came and went out of the port. I had a DHS supervisor on call. I explained about a possible leak coming from Customs.

  The DHS supervisor, a guy named Rick Morris, said, “You watch too much TV.”

  I chuckled and said, “I hope so. But I also work in Miami. Anything’s possible.”

  With the trouble I’d had from Customs over the past few days, I thought it would be best not to call Rick until we had a hot prospect.

  The waiting was killing me.

  Chapter 68

  THE SUN DIPPED in the west and all the lights in the port came on. You could argue that a full day of surveillance with no results was a bust, but all it really meant was that we’d be doing it over again tomorrow. That’s the life of a cop.

  Marie had found the day fascinating. She liked seeing how the port operated and hearing stories about police work in and around Miami.

  She asked me, “How long will you stay on the task force?”

  I shrugged. “Who knows? I have to produce or they’ll just rotate me off. I know someone from the Miami PD who wants my spot.”

  “You need arrests to stay?”

  “They don’t keep me for my charming personality.”

  “What if we don’t make arrests but are able to save the people being trafficked?”

  “I’ll be thrilled.”

  “Even if you get moved off the task force?”

  “I’ll still be a cop.”

  She smiled and squeezed my hand. She looked toward the water.

  Two ships had just docked. I checked with my DHS contact and he said they had both sailed from ports in Europe. After a moment, he narrowed it down, said one had come from the Netherlands, the other from Belgium.

  After I convinced him to come down to the port, I turned to my partners and said, “Let’s walk down to the ships. The one on the left is from the Netherlands and the other one is from Belgium. These are the best prospects we’ve had.”

  We didn’t want to blow the surveillance in case neither of these was the right ship, so we stood back from the dock looking at them both. Steph asked, “Is one of them more likely than the other?”

  Marie said, “I haven’t heard anything more specific from my informants. But both ships fit the profile we’ve been looking for.”

  I was torn. If we jumped on one of the ships, word would get out. Sailors talked, and now, with cell phones, they were in instant communication with one another all over the world. I didn’t want to expose the surveillance early, but I couldn’t risk leaving people locked in one of those shipping containers one minute longer than they had to be.

  If we picked the wrong ship, the crew on the other ship could flee and we’d have no suspects. I felt a knot in my stomach as I worked through the different scenarios. I wasn’t even factoring in the chance that someone aboard either ship might be armed and try to stop us.

  There was no way we could do this without causing a major stir. It would throw the port into chaos for at least two hours and the news media would swoop down on it in minutes.

  I looked around at the port crews and Customs people walking right past us about fifty yards from the two ships.

  One Customs inspector with dark hair paused and checked his phone right in front of us. There was absolutely nothing remarkable about him—except his ID. His name was Vacile, which sounded familiar to me.

  My eyes involuntarily followed the unremarkable Customs inspector.

  Then it hit me. I remembered where I had seen his name. He was the inspector at the Miami airport. I’d noticed at the time how the trafficker purposely moved to Vacile’s line for entry to the U.S. We’d just thought it was a case of a lazy inspector. DHS had said they’d follow up on it as a personnel matter.

  This couldn’t be a coincidence.

  We had to risk it. I wasn’t about to lose a load of people just to make some arrests. We had to do something, and now.

  Whatever ship Vacile stepped onto was the ship we were going to search.

  Chapter 69

  I PULLED OUT a small pair of binoculars that generally saw action only during Miami Dolphins games and used them to track the Customs inspector named Vacile.

  He spoke to a few people but kept moving, so no one was with him when he started poking around containers sitting at the front of the suspect ship.

  My heart started to beat faster. This could be it. There was so much riding on what we did next that I felt a flutter of anxiety. I couldn’t stop thinking about the people locked on board. We had to get to them.

  By now, Lorena Perez, Anthony Chilleo, and Rick Morris, the DHS supervisor I’d been talking to on the phone, had gathered near the ship. I explained how I’d recognized Vacile from the airport. Morris, an in-shape, middle-aged man with a slightly graying crew cut, said, “That’s a pretty thin story to ruin someone’s reputation over.”

  I said, “Do you know this guy personally?”

  “Never heard of him.” He glanced down at his phone. “But I’m looking at his personnel file and he doesn’t have any complaints. Coincidences happen all the time. That’s why they’re called coincidences. Like how it was a coincidence that I was the internal affairs supervisor on call when you said you needed help. If you had called the next day, then, by coincidence, I’d be at my college reunion right now instead of here. See what I mean about coincidences?”

  He was right. It was a long shot. “‘Coincidence is God’s way of staying anonymous,’” I said.

  Only Steph knew to ask, “Okay, who said that?”

  “Albert Einstein.”

  The DHS agent said, “So your probable cause is based on a dead physicist’s comments about God?”

  I was losing my patience, and I raised my voice. “Look, Rick, people might die. This is a literal life-and-death situation. C’mon, don’t be an administrative geek now. Be a cop. If we ignore this and do nothing and people wind up dying, we’re responsible for the death of every one of them. Tell me, is that something you could live with?”

  Rick shook his head and said, “Let’s go.”

  Chapter 70

  THE TIME HAD come. Hanna Greete felt like a bundle of exposed nerves. Everything was an assault on her senses. She tried to stay quiet as she and Albert waited near the port of Miami. All of her hard work came down to the next few hours. If anything happened and they weren’t able to pay off their debts, all was lost. There was no other way to look at the situation.

  They could see the ship they were waiting for, the Scandinavian Queen, docked next to another ship in the easternmost section of the port.

  Two long passenger vans rumbled into the loading zone behind Hanna and Albert.

  Hanna twisted on the bench and saw Billy, her Russian contact, pop out of the front passenger seat of the first van. He wore a dark suit and had his thinning hair slicked back. She hid her surprise.

  He was his usual cheerful self. Billy clapped his hands together as he walked toward them. “And how are my Dutch friends on this beautiful evening?” He had a wide grin.

  Albert leaned in close to his sister and mumbled, “This can’t be a good sign.” He reached under his shirt. Hanna placed a hand on her brother’s arm.

  She said, “Wait. Let’s hear what he has to say.”

  “Whatever he says, it will mean he’s screwing us out of our money. This isn’t the Vatican we’re dealing with. These guys don’t care about our troubles.”

  Hanna stepped forward and asked Billy, “How did you know it was time to come to the port?” Her aggressive tone didn’t seem to bother the friendly Russian.

  Billy held up his hands but kept a smile. “You’re not serious, are you?” Billy said. His accent sounded almost elegant. “You don’t think our mutual contact won’t call us first? Surely you can’t be that naive.”

  Hanna eyed the other Russians coming out of the vans. They all had hard edges, even the lone woman, who was tall, with straight dark hair. Serious expressions, alert eyes, and the quiet rest
lessness that came with expecting trouble.

  Hanna said, “We’re paying for the service; we expect to be the ones who get the benefit from it.”

  “Vacile may take money from you, but he’s a loyal Russian. He texted me as he was about to enter the ship.”

  Hanna noticed the Russians near the vans were keeping a close eye on Albert. Her brother was aware of their interest.

  She hoped this didn’t turn into a bloody fight.

  Chapter 71

  THE FIRST THING I noticed as we carefully approached the ship we’d seen Vacile enter—the Scandinavian Queen—was a security guard standing at the top of the gangplank. The lanky young man looked from the ship to the dock. Not this shit again, I thought.

  I slowed everyone down a little way from the ship and said, “I’ve had to deal with a shipping security agent once already this week. I’d rather we didn’t have to muscle our way past this guy. Any ideas?” I looked around the group.

  Without any hesitation, Steph Hall said, “I got this.” She hid her badge, unbuttoned two buttons on her shirt, looked over her shoulder, and gave me a wink.

  Lorena Perez said, “Really, you think that’s gonna work?”

  Steph said, “He’s a dude under twenty-five. It’ll work.”

  Chill said, “Probably would, but what if I try something else first?”

  Steph looked annoyed for a moment, then said, “I’ll defer to your experience.” ATF agents went undercover on a regular basis.

  I moved a little closer to the ship in case there was trouble. I was really doing this for the benefit of the young security officer on the boat. If he did something stupid, I didn’t want Steph or Chill to break one of his legs and toss him in the water.

  Chill made a little show of wandering around like he was lost. I liked how he stooped over slightly to give the impression he was older than he was.

  He stopped by the gangplank and called up to get the security guard’s attention. The guard looked down at Chill, who said something in a quiet voice.

  The guard yelled back, “What was that? I can’t hear you.”

  Chill leaned against the gangplank handrail and coughed like he’d been a lifelong pack-a-day smoker.

  I was impressed. He sold me on the coughing fit even though I knew he was a runner.

  Chill hacked a little louder and motioned to the young security guard to come close.

  The man didn’t hesitate. He scurried down the gangplank like a lab rat waiting to eat cancer-laced candy.

  Chill looked over at us with a sly smile. There really wasn’t any substitution for experience.

  Once the guard was next to him, Chill composed himself and mumbled thanks. He straightened up a bit and said, “I’m okay now. Thanks for coming to help.”

  The young man beamed. “No problem. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  Now Chill began a subtle but effective interrogation of the security agent. First there was the usual stuff, like “What’s your name? Where are you from?” Then he got to the real question: “How many people are on the ship right now?”

  The young man did a double take and said, “Wait, what?”

  It was like Chill had changed from a caterpillar to a butterfly. He slipped the badge he wore on a chain out from under his shirt and grasped the young man tightly by the upper arm. Chill changed his tone and said, “How many people are on board?”

  “I—I—I don’t really know.”

  Now Rick Morris, the Customs supervisor, stepped up to the young man and said, “Answer the question, jack-off.”

  Chill looked at him sharply and said, “I got this, Rick. Back off.” He turned his attention back to the suddenly terrified security man. Chill put his hand on the young guard’s shoulder and said, “Tell me who you think is on board.”

  The young man stuttered again and finally was able to blurt out, “The Customs inspector just came on, and the first mate is on board. I think a lot of the crew already slipped off for the evening.”

  Now our entire group gathered around the security guard. Chill slid the young man’s radio out of its harness and said, “I’ll give this back when we’re done.”

  I stood in front of the young man and looked down at him. “You’re gonna need to sit right here and not talk to anyone or call anyone until we come off the ship. Is this clearly understood?”

  The young man nodded and sat down on the concrete bench near the ship.

  We all carefully stepped onto the rickety gangplank, trying to limit the noise. Sounds echoed in the still night. I could hear a car horn out on Biscayne Boulevard. We fanned out near the bridge. I got a weird vibe from the almost empty ship, which reminded me of something from The Walking Dead.

  The first thing Rick said was “That’s weird. If there’s a Customs inspector on board, there should be a Customs person at the gangplank and a couple in the wheelhouse. Something’s not right.”

  Steph gave him a flat stare and said, “No shit.”

  Chapter 72

  I WASTED NO time once we were on board. Every minute was vital; we had to get to the people in the storage container. I’d worry about arrests and charges afterward. If this Customs inspector, Vacile, was helping human traffickers, he was about to have the worst night of his life.

  I just started marching toward the bow, cutting between the towering storage containers on the metal deck that showed signs of rust and wear. I felt like I was in Monument Valley.

  It was spooky. I didn’t even hear anyone else on board. Stepping carefully, I minimized any sound. Everyone behind me was just as careful. My heart raced as I considered all the things that could go wrong. That’s what I always did before any kind of operation, whether it was a search warrant, an interview, or something as important as this.

  I heard muffled voices as we approached the front. A tall, older sailor, probably the first mate, was talking amiably with Vacile. The Customs inspector was about forty-five years old; he had a potbelly, and his blue uniform didn’t complement his shape. The two men stood in front of a single container. There were air vents along the top. It was obvious what we were looking at.

  I stepped out of the shadows and came in full view of the two men.

  The sailor barked at me, “No one is allowed on board.”

  I immediately recognized his accent as Dutch.

  Marie stepped forward and spoke sharply to the man in Dutch, which caught him by surprise. It also tipped off Vacile that it was probably time to go.

  He backed away slowly and bumped into Rick, our own Customs contact, who was clearly not happy.

  Rick grabbed Vacile by the shoulders and said, “I’m Rick Morris. I’m an honest Customs supervisor, and you’re not gonna move another inch until we’ve sorted this out.” He calmly reached down and removed the inspector’s service weapon from its holster.

  I looked at the first mate and said, “Open this container.” When he hesitated, I shouted, “Right now!” The man jumped but still made no move toward the lock.

  The sailor said, “I don’t have a key.”

  Acting on impulse, I reached over and banged the side of the container. There was a commotion from inside. I could hear shouting and people moving around.

  Rick sprang forward with a passkey but couldn’t get the container open. This was taking too long.

  I looked around in desperation and saw another tool like the one on the ship with the smuggled parrots. I pulled it off the wall and shouted for Rick to move out of the way.

  I swung the tool like a knight slaying a dragon, starting above my head and using my full 240 pounds to bring it down. The sound of the captive people yelling gave me strength.

  I hit the lock perfectly on the first swing. The impact ran up my arm, but the door creaked open.

  This time, I recognized the smell that hit me immediately. It was human waste. And something else.

  Chapter 73

  HANNA AND ALBERT glided along with Billy and his crew of tough-looking Russians. Hanna tried to speak to
the lone female, the tall thirty-something woman with straight dark hair, but either the woman didn’t speak English or she didn’t want to engage with Hanna. Which was a bad sign for what might happen later.

  Hanna glanced at her brother. Her concern was obvious to him; he was the person who had always looked after her. He smiled and nodded in an effort to calm her down. It was like when they were children; no matter what was going on, Albert would always say, “It’ll all work out.”

  She wished she had his confidence. All she could think about was what would happen if they lost this load too.

  Billy, the friendly Russian, looked over his shoulder at Hanna and said, “See, a nice quiet evening at the port. We’ll walk out of here with everyone and no one will ever notice. You can’t put a price on that kind of security.”

  Hanna sensed new fees coming her way. She cut her eyes over to Albert again. He had his hand near where his newly acquired pistol was concealed under his shirt. At least the Russians hadn’t guessed that he was armed.

  Hanna didn’t like the wobbly gangplank or the loud noise their hard shoes made when they walked up the metal ramp. She was surprised no one came to investigate. The first mate she’d hired had done a good job.

  Hanna realized the Russians had subtly changed positions to surround them; now she and Albert were in the middle of their group.

  Thank God Albert was with her, Hanna thought.

  Not even Billy was speaking anymore as they worked their way forward on the ship.

  As she stepped between two shipping containers, Hanna saw a group of people standing around a familiar shape: the specially built container she’d bought.