Foreign Relations: A Finn O'Brien Thriller (Finn O'Brien Thriller Series Book 2)

by Rebecca Forster

  Finn glanced at the young woman in the corner and recognized her expression. Every woman at every domestic violence call he had responded to when he was in uniform looked just like this girl. Her eyes begged him not to interfere, warned him that he would only make things worse if he did. Finn pretended not to understand the language she was speaking. He always interfered because the women were better off when he did. He knew this to be true because they were alive to complain of his insolence.

  "I fear I've stumbled into a private party." He smiled at the girl and then at the curious knot of men. His gaze finally rested on the short man in the suit. "My apologies."

  "Damn straight you better apologize." The blond man – an Australian – spoke up. He did not slur his words, but Finn knew he was in no good shape and spoiling for a fight. Before Finn could respond, the older woman was by his side, tugging on his sleeve, trying to pull him back to the dining room.

  "I'll bring you coffee at your table. Come. Come with me, sir."

  Finn put his hand on hers and gave it a pat.

  "Thank you, missus, but I can get the coffee here and bring it myself."

  Her eyes darted to her husband. The man must have given her a sign because she continued to insist. "No, no sir. I will serve you. You should go back."

  "Are you daft, mate? Do what the lady says."

  The Aussie raised his tumbler, cracked it down on the coffee bar and then, with great drama, swiveled on his stool. He planted his two feet on the ground but kept his behind in the seat. The tall black man stepped back as if someone had called a play and the two were getting in position to take Finn down. Before the white man got off his stool – and just after Finn caught a glimpse of the hardware he carried at his waist – the short round man called a time out.

  "Rada. Move aside and let this man come for coffee. This is a free country, is it not?" The man in the black suit did as he was told without hesitation. Then the short man took care of his drinking buddy. "Oliver, you give the man your place. Yes, you stand and let this man sit."

  Fair-haired Oliver took a few seconds longer than Rada but finally he did as the man said. Glaring at Finn, he swiped up his drink with one hand and swept the other in front of him as he offered Finn his stool.

  "If it's not too much trouble." Finn smiled, first at the man with the attitude and the tats and then at the man who was calling the shots.

  He was a curious person to find in this a humble place dressed as he was in his fine silk suit that was the color of wine. His shirt was blazingly white. The high collar of his shirt and the knot of his a purple tie pushed his neck up into his beefy jowls. He was well fed and good-natured in the way potentially ruthless people can be. His speech was heavily accented, his skin smooth and lighter than his guard's. It was hard for Finn to put an age on him even with the silver in his goatee and hair. Perhaps the most distinctive things about him were the three large rings of gold and precious stones on his right hand. Expensive bling, Finn thought, and an oddly feminine affectation for a man who commanded stronger men, one of them more obnoxious than Finn could stomach. The little man waved his ring-laden hand at the detective.

  "This is fine, then. I have wished to meet a real American. I have only seen men in suits. Men of money. They are not real Americans." Suddenly his tone changed and he snapped, "Oliver. Go back, Oliver. I will talk to my new friend, and you do not need to be so close."

  Oliver shot whatever it was he was drinking and walked behind Finn, giving him a slow look as he did so. He took in the detective's clothes, his scars and his good-natured smile. There wasn't an inch of Finn O'Brien that seemed to impress the man.

  "As you say." He planted himself against the pegboard display, knocking off a necklace or two, stepping on them and then putting his fingers to his lips, widening his eyes, as he burped an 'oops'.

  In the corner, the girl's jaw tightened and she glowered at him. When she saw Finn looking she lowered her eyes once more, hiding her disgust behind an inscrutable expression. The man behind the bar said nothing. The woman who had been tugging at Finn's sleeve seemed to hold her breath. The short man noticed none of this. He waved his fingers in a circle, inviting Finn to, "Please. Come. Come."

  "That is kind of you. I'm with a friend. I'll just go fetch her." Finn gestured toward the other room.

  "A woman? She will wait. They always do. Hali."

  The girl at the end of the coffee bar jumped. The round man said something in a language Finn assumed was Ethiopian. Whatever he said, it was harsh and dismissive. She hurried away taking her mother with her. When the man gave Finn his attention he was jolly again.

  "There. You see. Your woman will not miss you. Hali and her mother will watch over her. Come, come real American man."

  He patted the stool next to him. Finn sat himself down, keeping one foot on the floor, swiveling around casually, comfortably. First he acknowledged the man making coffee and then smiled at the two men who now stood behind him. Finally, he gave his best smile to the round man with the big bling.

  "Your friends should join us," Finn said even though he knew it would be a cold day in hell before that happened.

  "They are fine as they are." The little man said this in the same way he would speak about a mongrel dog wanting to come in out of the rain. He put out his hand. "I am Emanuel Dega Abu."

  When Finn took his hand, the fat man squeezed hard, confirming only that his rings were heavy and awkward and his handshake not as intimidating as he would have liked.

  "And my name is Finn O'Brien."

  "That is Irish. I have been to Ireland. A cold and wet place always." The man made a face, his nose wrinkling like a child refusing his medicine. "Not like home. My home has the sun. Sometimes it rains. There is rain in places, but even then my country is beautiful. But mostly sun. Yes, a happy, sunny place."

  "And where would home be?" Finn hooked the heel of one boot over the rung of the stool. He put one arm on the bar and one hand on his hip, giving the man the attention he expected.

  "Eritrea. This is where I come from. We all come from Eritrea. Rada, it is a happy, sunny country, is it not?" Finn didn't bother to look and see if Rada agreed. The bodyguard would agree if this man said the tenth level of hell was a wonderful place to vacation.

  "I'm afraid I don't know it," Finn said.

  "It is near Ethiopia. Do you know Ethiopia? You must, since you are here and you are having the food of Ethiopia." Emanuel laughed at his own amusing conversation.

  "This is the first time I've eaten Ethiopian food. It's very good."

  "Yes, yes. Very good. And the food in Eritrea is like Ethiopia. We were once a part of that country. No more. It is a good thing. Eritrea is like the sister of Ethiopia. The prettier, younger sister, is that not so?" Emanuel asked of those in the room. Rada and the man behind the counter nodded. They murmured. Emanuel didn't notice or didn't care that they seemed not to share his enthusiasm. He turned his attention back to Finn. "You will hear more of it. I promise you that. It is a country impressive to the west. Yes. Many Americans are interested in doing business in my country."

  Finn swiveled on the stool and looked at the blond man who had taken a hat off the shelf and put it on his head, amusing himself like a fool.

  "Certainly Oliver isn't from Eritrea, now is he?"

  "Might as well be, right there Mr. Abu, your highness?" Oliver's smile was dazzling and disconcerting. Finn wanted to wipe it off his face but it was clear by Emanuel's laugh that he found Oliver delightful.

  "Yes, Oliver is one of us. He has worked for me so very long that he is like family. Is that not so, Oliver?"

  "That is the truth. Like this, we are." Oliver crossed two fingers and held them up.

  "And what business do you do for Mr…"

  Finn never finished his question. Emanuel set aside his coffee and tapped his finger on the bar to get the detective's attention.

  "Oliver is not so interesting," Emanuel said. "Let us talk about you, my new friend. What is your f
amily? What is your profession? No, no, let me guess. I am good at knowing people."

  The rich man put his plump woman-fingers to his brow. He looked at his two friends and widened his eyes as a sign that they should prepare to be awed by his magic. When he was done with his machinations, he threw his hand away from his temple and gave Finn a brilliant, white smile.

  "A bricklayer? No? No. Still, you are a laborer, yes? A man who fixes things? Yes, I am correct in that, am I not?"

  "You are correct that I labor each day. I do try to fix things but not in the way you mean," Finn said. "I work for the Los Angeles Police Department."

  The man behind the counter swayed a bit. Rada, the man in the black suit had not so much as flinched but Finn could feel his attention sharpen. Oliver must have moved because Finn heard the crunch of the necklace beads under his feet. If Finn had to guess, a cop was not the most welcomed guest at this little party. Emanuel, though, laughed and threw himself forward. He clapped Finn on the shoulder. A cop didn't worry the important man, so it was curious that it bothered the ones who worked for him.

  "Policeman! Fix things. Yes, yes, it is the same in my country," he said through his chuckles. "I do not know what I would do without the police fixing things. But they do not look like you. What kind of police look like a laborer?"

  Finn took hold of his jacket and feigned embarrassment.

  "Sure, my captain wishes I was a bit more polished. You are thinking of patrol officers. They have fine blue uniforms. I am a detective and we don't wear uniforms."

  Emanuel sat back. The jolly left the little man as quickly as it had come. His small eyes glittered and his smile faded. He assessed Finn with some appreciation now. They were, it seemed, on the same page but Finn wasn't quite sure what book they were reading.

  "You are special police. Yes, I see. We have special police in Eritrea also. They watch the people." The man nodded. "Very necessary. It is how order is kept. It is good for everyone."

  What this man was suggesting was not lost on Finn and it sickened him. Still, it would have been a waste of breath to share that with Emanuel Abu, so Finn educated him instead.

  "In this country we investigate to find the truth about crimes against the people, not to watch them. We bring criminals to justice. Low and high alike."

  As he spoke, Finn sat up straighter and reached into his breast pocket, pausing and moving slower when Rada took a step toward him. Finn swiveled a bit so the big man could see that it was nothing more than a sheet of paper he was taking out of his pocket. When he was sure Rada understood there was no threat, Finn turned back to Emanuel but spoke to them all as he unfolded the paper.

  "I've come here because I have a mystery to solve."

  "And what mystery would bring you to such a small place in a city so big?" The round man waved for more coffee and when his cup was filled, he raised his eyes to Finn and locked on. He was still amused, but in the patient way a spider is entertained by a fly. Finn unfolded the paper and said:

  "You being from out of town, I don't think you can help. But you, sir…" he held the picture of Jane Doe out to the man behind the counter, pretending not to notice the man's reluctance. "Might I ask if you know this woman? Perhaps she has been in your restaurant? Or you've seen her in the neighborhood."

  "No, I have not seen her." The man shook his head without looking at the picture.

  "Pity." Finn pulled his lips together in a show of disappointment. Emanuel was not so reluctant and plucked the picture out of the detective's hand.

  "Let me see this mystery. I should like to see what the police want to know."

  Finn let the paper go and watched the round man's smile fade to an expression that told the detective nothing.

  "So. She is dead."

  Finn had the fleeting thought that everyone must be daft if they had to ask if the woman in the picture was dead. Emanuel handed the paper to the Rada and Finn gave a quarter turn to watch his reaction. There was none. Another quarter turn. Oliver had the picture. He gave a good look and passed it back to Finn.

  "Another one bites the dust."

  Finn hated the smirk he heard under the man's words but Emanuel distracted him, putting his soft, short fingers on Finn's broad thigh as if they were buddies from way back. The detective gave him all his attention.

  "Why do the police have interest in this dead woman?" he asked.

  "We want to find her people so they can claim her," Finn said.

  The man's lips pulled his small chin up and he inclined his head. Finn thought he might laugh again but he did not.

  "You spend your time this way? Like women? Looking for someone to cry and wail over this dead person?" The man pushed himself back. He picked up his coffee as he lectured Finn. "People die every day in my country and no one comes for them. You take your woman and go home. You make love. You are alive. Be happy. That one in the picture is dead. It is done, is it not?"

  "But this woman was abused," Finn said. "We also believe someone might have pushed her over a bridge to kill her. If we find her family, we could find out if there was anyone who wanted to harm her. We would make sure whoever did this wouldn't hurt anyone else."

  "Ah," Emanuel said, losing interest in both the picture and the detective.

  It was then that Finn experienced a blinding flare of the same outrage that had gripped Cori. His wasn't for Jane Doe's torture, but for the blatant indifference these men showed for the sanctity of human life. Emanuel bored, Oliver flippant and Rada – what was Rada? Stoic? Before Finn could school any of them in humanity 101, Emanuel slapped his own knees with great energy.

  "It is time we leave now. There are meetings tomorrow. I must go to so many meetings." He smiled at Finn. "You my friend, O'Brien, have made this evening very interesting. I will tell you, policeman, there are many problems in this country. You should not bother with one woman."

  The little man slid off the stool. Finn did the same.

  "I'm glad to have met you," Finn answered. "I'm only sorry you don't have time to tell me about yourself."

  Finn put his hand out to Emanuel, but the man didn't bother with it. That was no problem for the detective. He was used to people not wanting to shake his hand.

  "I am a servant of my people, and my people serve me," Emanuel said with a self-deprecating and false smile.

  "Interesting work if you can get it." Finn let his hand fall.

  Emanuel tipped his head and his eyes twinkled. "A real man does not wait to get what he wants. If he knows it is right and what is for the good, he must take it. Isn't that so?"

  "I've never found that to end well," Finn said. "Better to earn your station, I think."

  In that moment as Finn challenged the man, Emanuel Dega Abu seemed to grow to mighty proportions, so powerful that the other men in the room faded away. Even Finn O'Brien felt diminished in his presence; even Finn understood that this man could take anything he damned well pleased. When the moment passed, Finn smiled at Emanuel. He held up the picture of Jane Doe once more, turning to show it to everyone in the room.

  "She is Ethiopian, isn't she?" he asked. "Knowing that would be a start."

  "Oh, yes. She is Ethiopian," Emanuel answered for them all. "She was most beautiful."

  "Yes, she was. I am sorry for her death," Finn answered.

  The room was hushed, the men silent until Oliver snorted and pushed himself away from the displays. He kicked the fallen beads and scattered them. It was then that Emanuel laughed. Oliver laughed too. Finn looked at Rada and knew that these two men laughed a lot when no one else did.

  "You are funny for a police. In my country the police are not funny," Emanuel muttered and then turned his back on Finn. He reached across the bar and took the proprietor's hand in both of his. "I thank you for a very good meal, my friend. Your Injera is excellent. You must come home soon. I believe your family misses you. I will tell them personally of our visit. I will tell them you are well. I am sure they will stay well also. We all hope for that, do we no
t? That your family stays well and that you remain a good man who loves Eritrea?"

  The proprietor muttered again and this time it was something Finn could not hear. Emanuel put pressure on the man's hand and then let it go. The proprietor fell back as if he could not put enough distance between them, but Emanuel wasn't out the door yet. Finn appreciated what he had just witnessed as everyone else did. It was a bald faced threat that was taken seriously. The question was why did Emanuel Dega Abu need to make it?

  "Should you see Aman," Emanuel said. "I wish for you to tell me, my friend. I am most anxious to hear from him."

  With that, Emanuel Dega Abu waved his hand in that strange way people like him did: palm cupped, fingers bent as if they are scooping up everything in their way, finding nothing worth keeping and tossing it over their shoulder into the dung heap.

  First Emanuel went out the door and then Oliver who still had the hat upon his head and had not, Finn was sure, paid for it. Last went Rada. The tall black man came close to Finn. They held one another's gaze for a split second but whatever was on the big man's mind stayed put. Finn followed to the doorway watching the procession pass by Cori. Emanuel and Rada took no notice of her. Oliver was another matter and Finn had no love for the way he looked at her. The entourage disappeared through the curtains that led to the backroom, the backdoor and the parking lot where the big black car waited.

  "He must be a very important man in your country," Finn said to the proprietor.

  "Eritrea is not my country," the man said and turned his back.

  Finn went into the restaurant and Cori stood up.

  "Who’s the asshole?" she asked.

  "Which one," Finn answered.

  "The overgrown puppy. Stupid hat. Tongue hanging out?"

  "That is Oliver, Cori. Whatever problem the little man has Oliver fixes it."

  "And the little man is?" she asked.

  "I'm not sure and we're not going to be finding out here," Finn answered. "Have you paid?"

  "They wouldn't take it." Cori shrugged as she finished her wine.