Blindside(38)

Now that verse made more sense than ever before.

Mary Catherine sobbed as I gave everyone a last, giant squeeze, and she slipped in as the others started to break the hug. She wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me in for a long kiss. I could taste her salty tears running down her cheeks. I prayed I could slip away without bawling like a little kid myself.

She broke the kiss, then whispered in my ear, “I love you so much that I know you’ll come back to me safe. If you love me the same way, make sure that happens.”

That was the best challenge I’d ever been given.

Seamus was indispensable as he helped break up the crowd around me and held them for a moment as I backed away.

A TSA agent who had witnessed our extended good-bye gave me a flat stare as I turned around. I thought I was about to get a touching comment about how beautiful my family was or some earnest words of encouragement. Instead he cleared his throat and said, “Get in that line,” pointing to a winding line of people at the far end of the security area.

About ten minutes after our good-bye, as I stood in line, waiting to take off my shoes and walk through a security scanner, I got a text.

It was from Mary Catherine.

All it said was I love you.

Now I started to tear up. That was all the encouragement I needed.





CHAPTER 54


AFTER A REASONABLE layover in Frankfurt that gave me time for a quick bite, my Lufthansa flight to Tallinn went quickly, and we landed at the Lennart Meri Airport fairly late in the evening, local time. I would’ve liked to see the place during the day for a better look at the giant panels on the roof. I wasn’t sure if they were decorative or solar, but either way, they were impressive.

It was a pleasant-looking, bustling terminal. Even at this hour, the place had decent traffic around the kiosks for Nordica, the national airline of Estonia.

Almost as soon as I started heading through the main terminal, I noticed two men following me. One was about six feet tall and lean. He was younger and clean-cut. His partner was pudgy and a little sloppier. He looked like a guy who bowled in Cleveland on Wednesday nights.

The shorter man had to take two steps for every one his partner took. His comb-over took a hit as he tried to move quickly.

If I was in New York, I would’ve known exactly where to stop and lay a trap. I’d also have a gun. Here, all I could do was move a little faster.

I took a corner.

They followed.

I took another corner.

Same result.

I could see the wide, automatic doors that led outside almost a hundred yards in front of me. I’d never make it without these two catching me, so I made a quick left turn into a hallway that led to bathrooms and some kind of maintenance area. It was the best chance I had to surprise them.

I slipped in next to a support column. If they looked down the hallway, they wouldn’t see anything. I wasn’t sure of my plan beyond that. I quickly scanned the area to see if there was anything I could use as a weapon.

It reminded me of a time when I’d been surprised by two would-be muggers in Philadelphia, when a two-foot-long piece of metal rebar I picked up from the ground in front of a construction site slid nicely up the sleeve of my jacket. The two muggers, who had been following me for three blocks, never even noticed me stop. When they caught up to me in front of the convention center near Chinatown, I was ready for a confrontation. Like all bullies, muggers count on fear and intimidation, so when I realized all they had was a knife between them, I let the rebar slip into my hand. It had taken only one swing through the air to frighten both of the men into a sprint toward North Broad Street.

But in this hallway, I saw nothing remotely helpful. Now all I could do was ball my hands into fists.





CHAPTER 55


I FELT LIKE I was behind the column for hours, until I heard the men talking in low tones. I couldn’t even tell what language they were speaking. Then one of them started to walk down the hallway toward me.

It was the taller of the two men. Good. If I took him out, the second man appeared easier to deal with. The tall one walked right past the post, focused on the men’s room door down the hall. Apparently he was pretty sure that’s where I had gone.

As soon as he was past me, I rushed him like a defensive end. I could hear him lose his breath as I caught him by surprise and knocked him about four feet through the air. He landed on the polished floor and slid another two feet into the wall.

I had no time to admire my handiwork, though I did have a moment of satisfaction. Any time you knock down someone bigger and younger than you, it’s a point of pride.

I was going to kick him in the head to make sure he was out of the fight when the other man appeared almost right next to me. I had my right fist prepared to aim for his chin. Or should I say chins. He was sweating, and his black hair fell in every direction, like he’d just stepped out of the shower.

Before I could take any action, he said one of the few things that would freeze me in place.

“Detective Michael Bennett, we’re FBI. Stand down.”

Anyone could say that. But a seasoned cop knew when he heard another seasoned cop speak. Plus, we were in Estonia and this guy was speaking English with a Boston accent.

I kept my posture with my fist cocked.

The shorter, pudgy man eased around me to check on his friend, who was coming up onto his hands and knees. He helped him up, and they both faced me.