Blindside (Michael Bennett #12)(43)

Not being a hardened street criminal, I stammered but didn’t come up with a smart-ass answer. Finally I spat out, “Sightseeing.” I had to wonder if this guy was legit. Was he on Henry’s payroll? I became more apprehensive the longer he just stared at me.

Then he pulled a phone from his pocket.

I didn’t know what to do, so I just stood there. I didn’t want to make any threatening moves. I certainly wasn’t prepared to run.

The cop spoke English on the phone. He said, “Yes, it’s definitely Bennett.” He listened to someone speak for a moment, then replied, “We’ll wait right here.”

I had a sinking feeling in my stomach.

I had never heard anything specifically about Estonian cops being corrupt. Certainly not like I’d heard about Russian police or the police in Mexico. I had to make a decision. Was this something I could risk? Not just for my safety but for Natalie Lunden’s? If Henry was as powerful and rich as I’d heard, he could buy a couple of cops. Or at least outfit someone to look like a cop.

I needed to do something. I just wasn’t sure what.





CHAPTER 61





I LOOKED THE cop in the eye. He wasn’t concerned or frightened in the least, and he wasn’t going to back down. I considered running. Then I thought it through. The idea of hiding from the police while searching for a missing girl seemed foolish.

A green Peugeot turned the corner and headed for us. I looked up and down the cobblestone street. There weren’t as many tourists now. Where were the crowds when you needed them?

The car came up to the curb right next to me. A window rolled down and the driver called out, “Get in the car, Detective.” That made my cheek twitch. This was getting worse by the moment.

Then I leaned down and looked through the open window. Sitting behind the steering wheel was the tubby FBI agent, Bill Fiore. He didn’t look particularly happy to see me. After the way the NYPD had snatched me away from him at the airport, I understood his frustration.

He said, “What are you waiting for? A better invitation? Trust me, I’m doing you a favor.”

I glanced over at the cop who’d approached me. He was waiting to see how I responded.

I said through the open window, “Forgive me if I don’t trust the word of an FBI agent telling me he’s doing me a favor. And as a New Yorker, your Boston accent makes it sound even less plausible.”

“Always with the wisecracks. Shut up and get in the car.” He waited for a moment and added, “Now.”

I nodded to the Estonian cop and slipped into the front seat of the Peugeot.

As we pulled away, Fiore said, “The Estonian cops couldn’t care less what US law enforcement is doing in their country. As long as we don’t cause problems. And that’s the only reason you’re here, Detective Bennett. To cause problems.”

“And how would you know that, Special Agent Fiore?”

“Because I’m not a dumbass. You think I don’t know who helped you escape at the airport?”

“Maybe you’re not as stupid as you look.”

Fiore chuckled. “I could say the same about you.”

I said, “So we’re fighting a turf war four thousand miles from home?”

“It’s not a turf war. You have no jurisdiction. And now your ass is going home.”

I said, “You don’t even know exactly why I’m here. I’m looking for a missing girl.”

“I know, I know. Spoiled rich girl whose father could fire you.”

“It’s not like that. He hasn’t threatened me or offered me anything. You don’t understand. She’s fallen in with a group of cybercriminals. She could be in danger.”

He pulled the car roughly to the curb and turned to me. His voice ticked up in volume. “No, you don’t understand. She’s with that group. She’s helping them. They’ve caused all kinds of shit and made enemies on both sides of the law. Even the goddamn yakuza thinks they’ve been disrespected. A Colombian cartel wants them to pay tribute. And don’t get me started on the Russians. Who knows what those dickwads will do.”

“She may be a kidnap victim. I might even have a location. A warehouse over on Tartu Maantee, across from a café named Toit’s City.”

“Doesn’t matter. Too dangerous. We can’t have a shoot-out in Tallinn. It’s not the South Side of Chicago. I intend to get you to the airport and sit with you until your flight at 2100 local time. You’ll be back in New York tomorrow. As I understand it, you’re a pretty decent homicide dick. Go back to solving murders.”

I gave him a sideways glance as an idea popped into my head. “You had to be some kind of real cop before the FBI.” The real cop dig was inadvertent. Every big-city detective knows the FBI hates that. It just came naturally.

Fiore was used to it. He proudly said, “Brookline, Mass. How could you tell?”

“The ‘homicide dick’ comment. Only an old-school cop would use a term like that.”

He nodded his agreement.

“I can’t believe a cop would let a missing girl go without any investigation. You’ve been with the Feebs too long.”

“Suck it, Mr. NYPD. I’m just following orders.”

“So were the guards at Auschwitz.”