Blindside(44)

From the very beginning, Ollie mocked the American cop. He laughed at the way the cop stood in front of the hotel, waiting for a cab. He was tall and handsome and looked like a statue. Ollie stuck his hand in his shirt like Napoleon and posed. He said, “Why is an American detective here? Maybe he can scare criminals into surrendering in New York, but does he realize he has no pull here?”

Christoph laughed. He didn’t know why the American detective was here or what his interest in Henry was. All he knew was that his boss wanted the cop brought to him and that Henry paid well. For someone who made his living beating and killing people, it was a pretty simple task.

They were both shocked to see the cop go directly to the warehouse where Henry used to have an operation. This guy was well connected and informed.

Ollie said, “Let’s grab him as soon as he comes out of the warehouse. We can slip him into the back seat without anyone noticing.”

“What if he gives us a fight?”

“Henry said we could shoot him. You stand by with your pistol in case he gives me any shit.”

Christoph shrugged. His partner’s plan was simple and direct. He liked it.

The hitch came when they noticed an Estonian policeman they recognized approach the entrance to the warehouse.

Ollie said, “What’s that uptight prick doing here?”

“Probably the same thing as us.”

“Too bad Henry couldn’t get him on the payroll.”

Christoph said, “You think Henry would appreciate it if we blasted both of them right now?”

The decision was moot when a green Peugeot pulled up and the detective got inside.

Ollie said, “What should we do? Probably stay with him for a while, huh?”

Christoph had to agree.





CHAPTER 63


I CALLED MY grandfather.

Fiore made me put the phone on speaker so he could hear everything we said. It was a pretty smart move. Too bad I had confidence that my grandfather was craftier than any FBI agent ever born.

He answered his personal residence phone immediately. He had a slight scratch in his throat and I knew I had woken him from a sound sleep.

I said, “Hey, Grandpa, it’s Michael calling from Estonia.” Me calling him “Grandpa” would’ve immediately alerted him that something was up. I could tell by the pause he was trying to figure it out.

He said, “What time is it there, Michael? Because it’s god-awful early here. Everything all right?”

“Sorry. I forgot you’re seven hours behind us in New York.”

“How’s the trip so far?”

I could tell he was stalling as he figured out what was going on. He had to hear that we were on speakerphone. I wasn’t going to make the obvious move and tell him. That might tip off the FBI agent that we were planning something.

“Everything’s good. I’m coming home early.”

“Why’s that?”

“The FBI is forcing me to go home. In fact, an agent is driving me to the airport right now. Can you call your friend at St. Laszlo’s and tell him I’ll pick up that reference material you needed?”

Seamus played it perfectly. All he said was “You bet, boyo.”

I thanked him and hung up. I looked over at Bill Fiore and said, “Satisfied?”

He nodded.

“I won’t tell an elderly priest that a good Catholic boy from Brookline, Massachusetts, didn’t trust him. And that you made me talk to him on speaker.”

Fiore visibly softened for a moment. “I know you’re not a bad guy. My guess is you’re over here for all the right reasons. But the FBI has to maintain a relationship with all the countries that allow us to operate within their borders. I can’t have every hotshot cop in the US coming over here, thinking they can do whatever they want.”

“How many cops want to come to Estonia?”

“You have no idea how much cybercrime originates from here. Teenagers with access to high-speed internet are figuring out schemes to bilk old people out of money in the US. Every swinging dick in this country has a computer.”

“Sounds like it’s a good idea for me to leave.”

“Finally you’re making some sense.”





CHAPTER 64


THANK GOD ST. LASZLO’S was on the way to the hotel, where I still needed to pick up my carry-on bag. It was hard enough to convince the FBI agent to bring me to the church, let alone to let me get my bag before we headed to the airport.

The church was certainly not as grand as the Alexander Nevsky Cathedral on the hill in Old Town; it looked more like a suburban church in Baltimore. But it was still clearly Orthodox, with the three horizontal bars on the cross, the bottom bar at an angle and much smaller than the middle bar.

There were no tourists here. Only a few cars were in the parking lot alongside the church, probably the staff vehicles and something for the priest to drive.

We parked on the street directly in front, where a walkway lined with budding bushes led to the main entrance.

I opened the door, and Fiore opened the driver’s door. He just looked at me and said, “You think I’m going to let you just walk away? I’m with you until I see your smiling face walk down the Jetway to your plane.”

This could get tricky. I considered how far I’d be willing to go to escape the FBI’s custody.