The Devil's Work

by Linda Ladd

  Claire beamed back. She leaned forward, her face earnest. “What can you tell us about the adoption process? This thing you do is all up front and legal, isn’t it? I mean, I’m not trying to insult you or anything, but we’ve been trying so hard to adopt a baby, and it’s been next to impossible.”

  “I understand completely. I can promise you that everything we do here is totally aboveboard and meets every required law and regulation. Please rest assured that won’t be a problem. I wouldn’t be doing this, otherwise.”

  “How long does it usually take to find a baby?” she asked.

  “Less than a month in some cases. Sometimes a bit longer but not usually. Of course, there are problems occasionally, but that’s rare.”

  “Less than a month? Are you serious? Every other lawyer we’ve seen told us it could be up to a year or even longer. Years, sometimes.”

  “We have very good contacts in both Central and South America. We work hand in hand with the churches and missions down there. Living conditions aren’t always what we’d like to see in Latin countries, especially in the rural areas. Prenatal care is not readily available. Unfortunately, many pregnancies unhappily result in the death of the mother. Conditions vary, of course, but our newborns are healthy and ready to be adopted. There are many, many children of all ages in orphanages down there who need loving families to take care of them. My job is to see that these infants are placed with the right parents who have the time and means to take good care of them. We will have to do a thorough investigation of your finances and home, just to assure that you have the means to support a child.”

  “Of course, we understand that.”

  Novak wasn’t buying it. He had spent months in special ops in Central America and spent time recuperating from injuries there. He knew the conditions and people well, and Kellen’s gloomy report was not completely true. In the jungle areas, medical care was difficult to find at times, but it was available in most towns and cities. “How are these babies brought into the United States? Is there a lot of red tape before they can enter legally?”

  At Novak’s question, Kellen studied him. “Well, that does vary, of course, depending on the time of year and the port of entry. But we usually fly them here once all the legal red tape and governmental requirements are settled and the papers are signed. I’m afraid all this costs money due to the high fees in the countries where we operate. You do understand that, Tony?”

  “Of course. How much money are we talking about?”

  Kellen warmed up to that subject quick enough. “I can only give you a ballpark figure, you understand. Each case is different. The price could change in either direction for a host of reasons.”

  “I would like to hear the ballpark figure, if you don’t mind.”

  Kellen hesitated, probably while he thought about how much he could bilk out of them. “Well, all right, I guess. I’d say, modestly speaking, around five hundred thousand to a million dollars American. Sometimes more, sometimes less.”

  “Why, that’s not bad at all!” Claire cried, looking at Novak, really into her part now. She looked enthused. “We were expecting to pay much more than that. We will pay you anything at all, if you can get us a healthy child. That’s how desperate we are.”

  Now Claire might be laying it on a little thick, Novak thought.

  “Sometimes it does end up costing more,” the lawyer was quick to add, hedging his bets. “I hope not, but that quote is an off-the-top-of-my-head figure, you understand.” Kellen was feeding off Claire’s willingness to spend money. If they were in an old cartoon, dollar signs would be blinking on and off inside his eyes.

  “We’ll pay any amount to finally have our own child,” Claire told Kellen.

  “Well, there is a limit to what we can afford to pay, of course,” Novak added, because that’s what any husband would and should say. The parents on both sides of Kellen’s dirty deals were victims. Once he and Claire busted this guy, all the adoptive parents he’d lied to and swindled would be heartbroken when they found out their children had been stolen and would have to be returned to their real parents. It would be devastating.

  “Do you have any brochures or literature that we could take home and read through? I really want to know more about the process and how it all works,” Claire said. “I’m just so thrilled that we found you. You’re an answer to our prayers.”

  “Well, I hope I will be.” Max tried to look abashed but was too slick to carry it off.

  Novak despised this guy. Good thing Claire was in her comfort zone manipulating the hell out of him.

  “Well, I have a couple of videos that will explain everything and follow along with every step of your journey to new parenthood. How about you take them home and watch them, and then we’ll meet again, perhaps early next week?”

  “That would be lovely. I hope we can get away and return even sooner than that. It depends on my husband’s business. He’s a very successful man.”

  “What do you do, Tony?” Kellen said, turning back to Novak.

  “I’m a clinical psychiatrist.”

  “I see. All right, then I guess you need to give your numbers to Billie Lou, and I’ll wait to hear from you.” He paused, smiling at Claire. “Do you have a preference?”

  “A preference?” she repeated.

  “Well, do you prefer a boy or a girl? Newborn or under a year, perhaps? Sometimes we can obtain toddlers if you want to skip all the diapers and bottles.”

  He was just plain evil. Novak had a sudden vision of those killers, bursting into homes in the dead of night and grabbing babies out of their cribs. Anybody Novak found who had a hand in this terrible business was going down. The timer had just clicked on for the detestable degenerate sitting across from them. He really didn’t care how he had to do it.

  Chapter 6

  An hour after they left the attorney’s office, Claire and Novak sat inside Black’s rented Lincoln in the shadows of Kellen’s underground parking garage. Claire was eating a Caesar salad they’d ordered from the Cordon Bleu as carryout. Novak was not hungry. They were waiting for Max Kellen to call it a day, so Novak had backed the car into an empty space with an unobstructed view of the garage elevator.

  After a quick drive around the levels, they had no trouble deducing which vehicle was Kellen’s. It was the only car with a license plate that read BABY LOVE. Yeah, Kellen was a happy camper, all right, but that wasn’t going to last long. Nobody had rubbed Novak the wrong way as much as that cocky attorney, not in a long time.

  So he sat in the car with Claire, not saying much but silently envisioning the pleasure of stomping Kellen’s wire-rimmed spectacles to smithereens. He fantasized grasping and shaking him like a folded sheet. After some quiet time enjoying the idea, he tamped down any unproductive urges before they took root, because it was too soon for him to exert violence against anyone. That could be catastrophic for them. They had zero proof that Kellen was committing any crimes. So they had to get some, a lot of it. They had to be patient, gather the goods on Kellen, and then put him and everybody working for him away. That’s what they were doing now. They had his home address, but Novak’s gut told him that wouldn’t be where he stashed the evidence they needed. Still, they had to check out any place he frequented. If he lived alone, breaking inside wouldn’t be difficult.

  Besides, Claire frowned upon Novak beating the crap out of their targets prior to the successful conclusion of their investigation. However, in Kellan’s case she might overlook Novak’s hardfisted approach. It was also likely that the attorney, who had risen to this level of criminality, would be extremely careful to keep his ducks in a row. Still, Novak had a hunch that Kellen would have meticulous records kept under lock and key in a safe place for fear of ICE or FBI raids. Novak intended to find them. He also was going to dig up every detail of Max Kellen’s past and present until he knew him down to his shoe size. There had to be di
rt on a guy like him.

  “Know what, Novak? I’m still hungry.”

  Novak glanced over at Claire. She had been quiet, too, deep in her own thoughts, bored with waiting. “No wonder, you’re eating rabbit food. You should’ve got a cheeseburger.”

  “Yeah, tell me about it.”

  His wife, Sarah, had eaten like a lumberjack when she’d been pregnant. He didn’t want to think about his dead wife, so he ended those thoughts and said, “I’ve got some energy bars in my backpack. It’s in the back seat.”

  “That’ll do. It’ll give me some extra pep, too. Sitting here this long is making me sleepy.”

  “There’s some bottled water and Gatorade and a couple of energy drinks, too.” Novak reached back and grabbed the emergency kit he always carried with him. He had learned a long time ago that he might have to get out fast and had to be ready to survive. He tugged it up front and handed it over. Claire rummaged through the contents. “Man, I forgot how prepared you are. You must’ve been one hell of an Eagle Scout. Everything’s in here except a pup tent. Wow, thermal blankets and purification tablets. Ammo, cellphone, Ka-Bar, and extra clothes, too. Too bad you don’t carry milk around. Black’s the dairy product police now that I’m going to have this baby. He takes a cooler with us when we’re on the road.”

  “Should be four bottles of water in there. Hand me one. I’m damn sick and tired of waiting for that creep to show.”

  “Ditto. My legs are cramping.”

  Novak watched her dig through his bag. “You’re not known for your healthy eating habits. Black’s just trying to be a good husband.”

  “True, but he’s already got that nailed down. He’s going to be a great father, too. You’ve seen him around Rico. And he’s so over the moon about this baby. Wow, it’s something to watch, all right. He’s been amazing.”

  “He waited a long time to have kids, I guess.”

  Claire turned and presented him with a happy smile. “He’s so proud that it borders on ridiculous. He’s a doctor and all that, but I predict he’s gonna lose it in the delivery room, especially since we found out it’s a girl. You know how daddies are with their daughters.”

  “Just watching a miracle happen does that to a guy.”

  Claire’s pleased expression faded. He knew why. She was remembering that he no longer had a daughter or a son or a wife because he’d lost them all in one terrible instant on 9/11. She looked contrite and guilty. “I’m sorry, Novak. I just don’t think sometimes.”

  “It’s okay. I’m happy for you and Nick. You’re in for a big change in your life, let me tell you, but it’s gonna be great.”

  After that exchange, Claire got quiet again. She handed Novak the water bottle, and he twisted off the cap and took a long draft, keeping his eyes on the garage elevator.

  Truth was, it wasn’t okay he’d lost his family, and it never would be. God help him, but he still missed Sarah and both his little kids. Their deaths had sent him into the kind of spiral that it was a miracle he survived at all. He’d been there that warm September morning, working as an NYPD detective in Manhattan. He’d seen it happen and had been absolutely helpless to do anything to save his family. All he could do was watch, horrified, as the South Tower collapsed. He’d stood frozen in disbelief outside the open door of his car, caught to a standstill in traffic. He’d seen it a million times now in his dreams, the building crumpling and falling, the deafening rending of steel, the breaking of glass, and the toxic white cloud of debris that burned his eyes and clogged his nose and mouth. The tragedy had changed him, made him dark and introspective and miserable. Even now, the memory burned behind his eyes. He thrust the morbid thoughts away.

  “What’s your take, Claire? You think Kellen’s the mastermind behind this thing? You saw the guy up there, watched him smile as he lied to us. You think he’s smart enough to call the shots?”

  “Hell, no. Trust me, he answers to somebody bigger and tougher than he is. He might be smart enough to run day-to-day operations up there in his skybox office, maybe even in the confines of Fort Myers and the surrounding area. I think maybe they use the Skulls for their dirty work. Maybe as drug runners and mules, and some of them might be down south of the border snatching those kids. They’re not smart, but they can grab a woman off the streets or take her baby. Some are in Guatemala right now, I know it. They could be running opioids and heroin out of Mexico. Why not snatch a few babies while you’re moving drugs, and double, even triple, your profits? Could be the adoption stuff is a lucrative sideline. Black says fentanyl is routed up the East Coast into New York and New Hampshire.”

  Novak agreed. Kellen was a little cog in a bigger wheel. Attorney status gave him respectability to dupe prospective parents. Drugs and baby trafficking in tandem was a good fit for somebody like Max Kellen. “What about mob connections?”

  “I think there has to be somewhere along the line, maybe not here, but in other countries. Mobsters have their fingers into everything these days. Baby snatching doesn’t really fit in with what I’ve seen them do, though. Some Mafiosi have a decent respect for family themselves, so their enemies’ families are off-limits. You know, the old honor among thieves thing they’ve got going on. Especially when it comes to women and children.”

  “Yeah, but there’s a new kind of criminal today, and they don’t think that way.” Novak considered things for a moment. “You know what? This is going to turn out to be bigger and farther reaching than we expect. I think Kellen is on the outer fringe. Something like this takes lots of players, and they all have to toe the line. Since Kellen’s established an office here, maybe these kids are smuggled into Florida by boat. They could bring them in on small, inconspicuous pleasure crafts or sailboats like mine. They’ve been hauling drugs that way for years. If the Coast Guard stops and searches them, it’s the perfect cover. A man aboard with his wife and little baby could be passed off as an innocent family outing.”

  “Yeah, could be you’re right. Kellen’s here in Fort Myers for a reason, sitting on the edge of the Gulf with lots of boats and tourists and families running around everywhere. Incoming flights wouldn’t work without legitimate passports and picture IDs. Of course, they could get those counterfeited easy enough. Cars and buses would take too long and would be hard on a newborn. And they’d have a higher chance of being noticed. Bringing those babies into the US with their drug shipments would be fast and easy and cost efficient.” Claire stopped speaking and slid lower in the seat. “Okay, here he comes.”

  Novak slouched down and watched the man exit the elevator and stroll leisurely over to the white Mercedes convertible. Every single thing about Max Kellen oozed cocky conceit and love of power. He didn’t glance around, so he didn’t notice them sitting there. They were a good distance away, anyway, but he didn’t seem concerned. Kellen felt secure in his dark world, and that was good news for Novak and Claire. Clueless enemies were the best kind. They watched as he took a few minutes to lower the convertible top, and then he shrugged out of his expensive gray suit coat, loosened his tie, and rolled up the sleeves of his white dress shirt before he slid into the driver’s seat. Novak fought his revulsion for the man, knowing it was not smart to let his feelings reach such a visceral level.

  Backing out of his parking spot, Kellen took off with a squeal of tires that echoed thunderously off the subterranean concrete walls. He sped to the end of the aisle and turned onto the ramp leading to street level. Novak waited a bit and then followed him. At the top, they came out at the rear of the building and watched their target turn and head to McGregor Boulevard. It was late afternoon, and traffic was heading home for the day. Novak pulled out about three car lengths behind him and kept it that way.

  Kellen looked carefree and like a man who was done with work on a beautiful Friday afternoon. He was no doubt planning a fantastic weekend peddling babies. They tailed him south where he merged onto I-75. The signs said Bonita Spring
s was about thirty minutes away, not a far commute from Fort Myers. Novak could see him well, and he had exchanged his pricey granny specs for black mirrored sunglasses that probably cost him as much as his fancy suit. He had a white ball cap snugged down low to shade his face. Novak was surprised that creep would wear anything that would mess up his perfectly gelled hair.

  One thing for certain, this guy was not going to feel carefree much longer. His sunshiny days were numbered, and Novak was going to rain on his parade. Kellen would never know what hit him, but he’d feel it. Novak was going to knock that smug look off his face. Max Kellen relished doing the devil’s work, but sometimes the devil had to pay.

  When they reached the outskirts of Bonita Springs, traffic got crazy again as commuters braked too late to speed up the off-ramps taking them home. The sun was bright, not a cloud in the sky, and the day was warm and breezy. The lawyer drove too fast and weaved in and out of traffic, but that wasn’t surprising. He never exceeded the speed limit by more than ten miles an hour, so Novak kept up.

  As cars flooded the exits, they picked up speed and spread out on the roadway. Novak hung back. He did not want Kellen to see them. Kellen didn’t appear to be watching through his rearview mirror as he picked up a phone and chatted for several minutes, but Novak never took casual assumptions for granted. They needed the element of surprise, and tailing was easier on a major highway where everybody followed everybody.

  “Whoa, guess what, Novak? Maxie boy just missed the last exit for Bonita Springs. According to his bio, he lives there, so he’s not headed home yet. Maybe we’re going to get lucky. Maybe he’ll lead us straight to his base of operations or where they warehouse the babies.”

  “Guess we’ll find that out soon enough.”

  “Kellen seems awfully carefree, if you ask me. Maybe he feels invulnerable after all this time selling kids to the highest bidder.”