Lost(30)

“Someone’s behind us.”

Just as Albert started to turn, Hanna heard a gunshot, and the rear window of the Mini Cooper shattered. Albert grabbed his sister and shoved her away from the car, across the sidewalk, and into the entryway of a small shop.

There were two more shots. The bullets pinged off the bricks surrounding the entryway. A fleck of debris hit Hanna in the eye. She was confused and fighting panic. What the hell was this? Who was shooting at them?

Albert kept low with his gun up, scanning the dark buildings around them.

Hanna said, “Who’s shooting?”

He continued to scan for targets. “I’ll give you one guess.”

“The Russians,” Hanna answered. “But why?”

“Take your pick: The money we owe them. The fact that I had to get rough with one of them in a bar. Or that we’re competition for them.”

“I meant, why now?”

Albert was silent.

Hanna had to ask. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Albert hesitated, then said, “Remember the pretty Canadian tourist I got high with yesterday?”

“Yeah?”

“What if I told you she wasn’t Canadian, but Russian? And that after we got high, we fooled around at my apartment. Oh yeah, and that her husband is an enforcer for the Russian mob.”

Hanna shook her head. “You’re an ass, but at least that makes a little more sense. Now I get why the Russians are trying to kill you.”

Albert fired two rounds that looked like wild shots to Hanna. A streetlight across the road shattered, making it suddenly darker. Then two men scurried out of the shadows.

Albert fired three more shots. One of the men fell onto the hard brick road and dropped a pistol as he hit the ground. Albert immediately jumped up and ran toward the fleeing man.

Hanna was impressed by her brother’s abilities, but he soon gave up the chase. The escaping man had had a solid head start. Albert turned and walked slowly back toward her. As he passed the Russian lying in the road, Albert extended his right arm and pumped another bullet into the man’s back.

Hanna flinched at the sound and at the sight of the man spasming on the ground. Albert’s expression never changed as he walked past her and said, “C’mon, we need to get out of here.”





CHAPTER 42





MARIE AND I huddled behind the heavy planter, listening to the gunshots. As a Miami police detective, I’d heard plenty of gunfights. I once saw two separate gunfights converge, gang members opening up on people they didn’t know or care about.

We stayed in position for a while after the shots ended and the sound of running footsteps receded. When I heard one last shot long after all the others, I knew someone had executed a coup de grace.

Marie had her pistol drawn, but we both felt secure behind the planter. She had called for help, so it was hopefully on the way. But we couldn’t just sit by if innocent bystanders had been injured or if someone was in danger.

Marie said, “I don’t think those shots were meant for us.”

“Let’s not risk it. I heard at least two different calibers and it sounded like people were trading shots. At least until the end.”

Marie stood up and said, “You can come with me or wait here.”

That really wasn’t a choice. I trotted alongside her to the main street. We paused at the corner to scan for any other gunmen. A crowd had started to huddle around someone lying in the street. That told us the fight was over.

Marie bowled into the group with her badge out. She checked the man’s pulse, then looked at his face closely. She turned to me and said, “I know this man. He’s an enforcer for Emile Rostoff’s organization. Or, rather, he was an enforcer for Rostoff.”

I said, “Any idea who’d tangle with him like this?”

“The better question is whether the Russian interrupted someone. Maybe someone with a gun looking for us.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Just a hunch. Don’t you ever have an intuition about something?”

“I do. Maybe this means you’re really getting to the traffickers.”

Marie said, “In that case, it’s time to turn up the heat.”

I looked at her, now fully convinced that Marie was the total package.





CHAPTER 43





MARIE WAS SUPPOSED to drive me to the airport, but I convinced her to let me see the kids first, since I’d promised them I’d say goodbye before I left. She knew me well enough by now to have built in time for the stop. We parked in front of the main administration building at the child-services facility.

Marie stayed by the car to make a phone call as I rushed inside. I realized in my haste just how anxious I was to see them.

A middle-aged man at the front desk looked over his reading glasses and said something to me in Dutch. I didn’t speak the language, but I could understand snotty when I heard it.

I said, “My name is Tom Moon. I brought the kids from Miami.”

The man nodded and said, “Ah, Mr. Moon, of course. The children are in class, but if you can wait a couple of hours, they can slip out and say hello.”

“I’m sorry, I’m on my way to the airport now.”