Blindside (Michael Bennett #12)(36)

I sat in an uncomfortable metal chair as the lieutenant rolled around behind his desk on his ancient Office Depot discount chair. He was giving someone crime statistics over the phone while checking his email and answering a text. And this was a slow day for Lieutenant Tony Martindale.

Finally he hung up the phone, looked at me, and said, “I’m sorry, Mike. As you can imagine, it’s crazy around here. But I have the information you asked about.”

I knew not to do anything except smile and nod. I didn’t want to risk sending him off on another tangent that might take five or ten minutes. He waited for a comment, then picked up a folder from a pile on his desk like he knew exactly which one to reach for.

He leaned back in the black chair and said, “You might’ve stumbled onto something big. This guy you asked about, Endrik Laar, has about ten aliases. He has three official IDs issued in Estonia and Latvia, but none of the three IDs has the same photo. None of the investigators I spoke with over the phone are even sure if they have an accurate description of him.”

“What are they tracking him for?”

“Cybercrime. The son of a bitch has a decent blackmail business going. The big corporations are terrified of hackers like him. And the young programmers flock to him. They know they can make a lot more money with him than they can at a legitimate job.”

I asked, “Anyone have any idea about US nationals working for him? Specifically the name I gave you, Natalie Lunden?”

The lieutenant gave me a grin. “I assume you know who her father is.”

“I can neither confirm nor deny that I know the identity of Natalie Lunden’s father.”

Lieutenant Martindale let out a hearty laugh. “Spoken like an Intel detective. If you ever get tired of chasing down murderers, we’ll always have a place for you here.”

I didn’t want to tell him that showing up at One Police Plaza every day would cause me too much stress. I’d probably end up with some rash or other disgusting reaction.

The lieutenant said, “I’ve done a favor or two for the LFP.”

“How’d it work out?”

“Just did my job. He seemed okay in a pudgy politician kind of way.” He waited for me to either laugh or agree.

Instead, I said, “We can still keep this conversation between us, right?”

“Intel is known for its discretion. Now, here’s a list of potential addresses and associates of Mr. Laar.” As he handed me the papers bound in a small folder, Lieutenant Martindale gave me a sideways glance. “You’re not thinking of going to Estonia, are you?”

“Why?”

“We don’t have an office there. Would be difficult to give you much support.”

“So I’d be on my own?”

“I didn’t say that. I just said it would be difficult to help you. The NYPD never leaves a man behind. We’d make sure you had what you needed.”

“What about the Estonian police? Would they help if I needed it?”

“Who knows? They deal with the US Embassy and the FBI Legat who covers all the Baltics. It’d take a while to get official approval for your trip through the FBI.”

“Then let’s forget our brothers and sisters who work for the federal government. Is that okay?”

Martindale laughed again. “I rarely think of them here in New York. You’re good to go as far as I’m concerned.”

I always appreciated my visits to the NYPD Intel Bureau.





CHAPTER 51





IT’S SURPRISINGLY EASY for an NYPD detective to get an audience with the mayor of New York when you have information about his daughter. Within thirty minutes of my call to his assistant, I was in Mayor Alfred Hanna’s main office in City Hall.

If I had ever questioned the mayor’s concern for his daughter, I now realized it was genuine. Although overweight and out of shape, the mayor was always known for dressing well; the New York Post had even branded him “the dapper dumbass.” Today, image seemed to be the last thing on his mind. He looked like he hadn’t slept in three days.

The mayor already had a synopsis of the shoot-out at Brew. He knew it was related to his daughter. That only made him more anxious. We sat on a black leather couch. I noticed a photo collage on the wall, images of his daughter from toddlerhood to her graduation from high school. There were other collages of his sons, but this one struck a chord. I wouldn’t look any better than him if one of my kids was missing.

I didn’t know how else to say it, so I got right to the point. “Mayor, everything I’ve learned points to your daughter being in Tallinn, Estonia. I need to take a trip there to run down more leads. I’m afraid that if your daughter was there of her own free will she would’ve been in touch with her mother. Just a phone call. Something. That’s why I need to travel.”

The news about his daughter bothered the mayor. For a moment, I thought he might cry. Then he looked up at me and said, “I can’t authorize travel like that. That kind of expense to find my daughter would cause the press to eviscerate me. There’s already been enough coverage of my divorce. That’s what drove the wedge between Natalie and me in the first place.”

From a public employee’s perspective, I understood what he was saying. From a father’s perspective, I was baffled. I would use everything in my power to find one of my kids. To hell with the media or anyone else.