The Stolen Ones

by Owen Laukkanen

  Stevens gave her a sheepish look. “Sent him packing, anyway. Told him to keep his hands to himself or I’d lock his ass up. Andrea didn’t take it so well.”

  “I bet she could have just died. The living room, huh? She doesn’t have a bedroom of her own?”

  “Not for entertaining gentleman callers,” Stevens said. “No boys on the second floor, house rules.”

  “Damn,” Windermere said. “You know this kid?”

  “Only from what Nancy tells me.” Stevens sighed. “It’s not even the kid himself who’s the problem, I guess. I just don’t like my daughter running with that kind of crowd.”

  Windermere laughed. “What crowd, Stevens? The hormonal teenage crowd? She’s, what, sixteen? It’s going to happen.”

  “Not yet,” Stevens told her. “Not if I can damn well help it.”

  She was about to tell him he’d have better luck reversing the earth’s rotation, but then Mathers walked in, Drew Harris right behind him.

  “Good morning.” Harris regarded Windermere, then Stevens. “I take it from your general state of bedragglement that we’re not making much progress.”

  Windermere shook her head. “Every law enforcement agency in the region has Irina’s picture,” she said. “Her face is on the news. We have people looking, but—”

  “But so far, no good.” Harris walked to the front of the situation room. “Where do we figure she went?”

  “Nobody’s sure,” Windermere said. “We know she’s trying to find her sister, so we’re watching the bus stations, train station, airport, major highways.”

  “Except she doesn’t speak English and she doesn’t know the country,” Stevens said. “How in the hell would she know where to go?”

  “And how would she find her sister when she got there?” Windermere made a face. “Hell, we don’t know how to track down these bastards.”

  “So we’re waiting on Facebook to point us to little sister,” Harris said. “Odds are the traffickers have the girl locked up somewhere on the East Coast. And you guys have the name of the delivery driver and an address where he might be found.”

  “Yes, sir,” Windermere said.

  Harris looked at her. “But you came back here instead of going to find him.”

  “Yes, sir. The Newark guys have an eye on Nikolai Kirilenko’s apartment. He hasn’t shown up since they started watching.”

  “Still,” Harris said, “that’s your lead, isn’t it? Wherever this guy is, he could crack your case open.”

  “Yes, sir,” Windermere said.

  “So why’d you come back to Minnesota?”

  Windermere felt her temperature rising. “Sir, I thought we should help with the search for Irina Milosovici. She’s a key witness in this whole thing, and—”

  “And she doesn’t speak any English, doesn’t have any money, doesn’t know the city,” Harris said. “Moreover, she didn’t do anything technically wrong by leaving the safe house. She’s free to travel the country, Carla. And Agent Mathers is perfectly capable of chasing down Catalina’s Facebook account.”

  Agent Mathers keeps screwing up my investigation, Windermere thought. Mathers met her eyes, his expression guarded, like he was just waiting for her to sell him out. Windermere looked away. “Sir, I just didn’t feel comfortable leaving my witness in danger like this.”

  Harris leaned against a table. “Agent Windermere, this is a major investigation,” he said. “The biggest of your career, so far. It’s your ball to carry. If you want to worry about every little thing that goes wrong, you won’t get the damn thing solved. You have a lead in New Jersey that could save a girl’s life. Farting around with a missing person’s case in Minneapolis isn’t going to help the big picture.”

  Windermere could feel Stevens watching her. Mathers, too. She made herself meet Harris’s eyes. “Yes, sir,” she said. “You’re right.”

  “Good.” Harris looked at her, then Stevens. “Now get your butts on a plane and go solve this thing.”

  93

  MATHERS FOLLOWED THEM out to the parking lot.

  “Carla, I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t think he’d take that kind of line.”

  Windermere kept walking, crossed the pavement toward her Chevelle, a cherry red ’69 that had belonged to her father. Beside her, Stevens typed something into his phone.

  “It’s fine, Derek,” she said. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Yeah, well,” Mathers said, “I am worried, okay? This is way beyond me fucking up our relationship, or whatever you want to call it. This is serious. This is one of us transferring to Anchorage if we don’t work this out.”

  Windermere didn’t reply. Glanced at Stevens, who’d had the good sense to fall back a step or two. “Look,” she told Mathers, “it’s not that bad.”

  “Bull,” Mathers said. “You don’t trust me. That’s why you came back to Minneapolis. You figure I’ll blow up your investigation again if you’re not here to hold my hand.”

  “Derek,” she said. “Not now, okay?”

  “You know it’s true, though,” he said. “You put your whole case on hold just to come back and make sure I wasn’t screwing everything up.”

  “I just—” She reached the Chevelle. Turned to face him. “This is a huge case, Derek. Every time I turn around, there’s another fuckup at home base. You think that makes it easy to go out and solve this thing?”

  “This is the FBI you’re working with, Carla,” Mathers said. “This is me. You think I’m a meathead, that’s fine, but I know I’m a good cop, and you know it, too.” He set his jaw. “And you know I’m good for you, too.”

  Windermere stared at him, a big hard-ass cop everywhere but those blue eyes. She realized she’d missed him, this whole case be damned. Realized she was sick of fighting with him, of not seeing his stupid smile in the morning.

  He screwed up your case, her mind screamed. And now this, this whole awkwardness bullshit, what did you think would happen?

  She’d known it was a bad idea to hook up with Mathers. Sooner or later, the romance would wear off, and somebody’s feelings would get hurt. Damn it, though, she still missed him.

  But there were two teenage girls missing. Probably a hundred more in boxes, on ships or on trucks. This was no time to get moony.

  Windermere squared her shoulders. Fixed Mathers with a long, hard look. “We’ll talk about this later,” she told him. “Just find Irina, okay? Don’t do a damn thing else until you find her.”

  Then she climbed into the Chevelle, slammed the door, and instantly regretted not telling him good-bye.

  94

  STEVENS’S PHONE RANG as Windermere parked the Chevelle in the long-term lot at Minneapolis–Saint Paul International. Nancy, at work.

  “Hey,” he said. “Don’t tell me our little angel is up to no good again.”

  “Clearfield, Pennsylvania.” His wife’s voice was electric. “That’s where Irina is trying to go.”

  Stevens frowned. “Pardon?”

  “She left a message on my phone at work, Kirk,” Nancy said. “My cell phone died last night before I went to sleep, but she must have tried it before she called the office. Anyway, she said she’s going to someplace called Clearfield, Pennsylvania, to find Catalina.”

  “Clearfield.” Stevens climbed out of the car and hurried after Windermere. “Where the heck is that?”

  “According to Google, it’s a little town in the north part of the state, along Interstate 80,” Nancy said. “That must be where Catalina sent her message.”

  Interstate 80, Stevens thought. Pennsylvania. So the Dragon didn’t have Catalina just yet. Or he didn’t last night.

  “Hold on one sec.” Stevens caught up to Windermere, caught her arm. “Irina phoned Nancy at her office last night,” he told her. “Left a message that she’s headed someplace called Clearfield. It�
�s a little town in Pennsylvania.”

  “So, what?” Windermere said. “Should I swap our tickets? Get us to this Clearfield place?”

  Stevens thought about it. “I don’t think so,” he told her. “Kirilenko’s in New Jersey. All of those shell companies LePlavy dug up are there, too. I don’t think the Dragon’s in Pennsylvania.”

  “So Catalina Milosovici is still in transit.”

  “Exactly,” Stevens said, starting toward the terminal again. “Let’s be there when she arrives.”

  95

  CATALINA STOOD IN THE CELL with the rest of the young women and watched the silent man sleep on his couch. She could feel the iPhone in her waistband. She’d turned it off to conserve the battery. She had hoped that the silent man would stop for gas again, allow her to use the bathroom. She had hoped she would be able to send another message.

  But instead they had arrived, here, in this dingy, dark little building, with these other girls Catalina didn’t recognize, and she had no idea where she was. Even if she could send a message, she couldn’t tell Irina anything useful. Anyway, who’s to say these other girls wouldn’t betray her to the silent man? Catalina had never seen any of them before. They might rat her out to survive.

  She stood and watched the silent man sleep. None of the other girls met her eyes. None of them spoke. Time passed maddeningly slow. Catalina felt her frustration mounting.

  You can’t just stand and wait here, she thought. You have a phone. Use it.

  She welled up her courage. Found a pretty blond girl with pigtails standing at the back of the cell. The blond girl stood alone. Catalina watched her until she looked up. Catalina smiled at her. “Hello.”

  The girl didn’t answer. She stole a glance at the sleeping man and then looked away again.

  Catalina inched closer. Whispered. “Where is this place?” she said. “What are they doing to you here?”

  At first, the blond girl didn’t answer. Catalina waited. The whole building seemed to go silent. Finally, the other girl replied. “You mustn’t speak,” she said softly. “They’ll kill us if we speak.”

  “They won’t kill me,” Catalina told her. “They want me.”

  The blond girl said nothing.

  “Anyway, I’m not afraid of them,” Catalina said. “I have a way out of here. I just need to know where we are.”

  The blond girl shook her head. “I don’t know where we are,” she said. “They took me out of the box and put me here. I don’t know anything. I—” She sobbed suddenly. “I miss my family. I just want to go home.”

  The girl continued to cry. Catalina watched her until she turned away, wiping her tears with her ragged sleeve, pressing her face against the bars of the cell. Catalina looked around at the other girls.

  “I need to know where we are,” she whispered to them. “I think I can get us out of here.”

  Nobody said anything. Most of the girls shied back, their eyes darting away to check on the sleeping man at the other end of the building. Catalina felt the phone at her side like an itch, felt suddenly angry.

  “Come on,” she said louder. “Why won’t you help me? I can get us out of here. I—”

  “Nobody knows.” This was a beautiful raven-haired girl. She stood a few feet away from Catalina, watching her through eyes that were a shocking emerald green. “Nobody knows where we are. Nobody knows anything in this place.”

  Catalina pushed her way over. “My name is Catalina,” she said. “I’ve been in a box for weeks. They killed my handlers yesterday, but I stole a phone. I can send a message for help, but I need to tell them where we are.”

  The dark-haired girl studied Catalina. “Dorina,” she said. “That’s my name. I was put in the box in Bucharest. I don’t know when. I don’t know how long I was inside.”

  “And they brought you here,” Catalina said. “When the box arrived in America, they brought you straight here?”

  “It wasn’t far to go,” Dorina replied. “This building was maybe fifteen meters from where they took me out of the box.”

  So I’m back where we started, Catalina thought. The East Coast of America. All of that trouble, and they brought me back here.

  “I don’t know where we are,” Dorina whispered, “but I think I know where we’re going. I overheard one of the thugs talking. He said we are supposed to go to New York.”

  New York! Catalina felt her breath catch. “Where in New York?” she said. “And for what purpose?”

  “All I know is New York,” Dorina said. “Apparently there is a man there who wants us. That’s all.”

  Catalina considered this. New York was a big place, that much she knew. Still, this information would help. At least Irina could tell the police where to start their search.

  She reached into her waistband. Pulled out the phone. “I will send a message to my sister,” she told Dorina. “She escaped from the box. Maybe she can tell the authorities how to find us.”

  “Hurry,” Dorina said. “Before the handler wakes up.”

  The phone seemed to take forever to power on. Finally, the screen lit up. Catalina tapped on the Internet icon. Loaded the Facebook page. Was about to log into her account when she heard a commotion outside.

  “Crap.” Dorina grabbed Catalina’s arm. “Hide the phone.”

  Catalina jammed the phone into her waistband just as the building’s door flew open, blinding the captive girls with sudden sunlight. Catalina hid her eyes, blinking, saw nothing but brightness. For a long moment, nobody moved. Then Catalina heard soft laughter. Boots on the concrete floor. A man stood in the doorway, staring in at her.

  He was tall and lanky, with a wiry black beard and wild eyes. He wore a long black leather jacket, and a wicked knife hung from a scabbard on his belt. He was the scariest creature Catalina had ever seen in her life, and he was looking at Catalina like he knew it.

  “Hello, little one,” he told her, smiling at her through the bars. “I am the Dragon. You belong to me now.”

  96

  VOLOVOI AWOKE to the Dragon standing above him.

  “Wake up, wake up, Andrei,” the gangster was saying. “I’m ready to take delivery of my prize.”

  Instantly, Volovoi was awake. He pushed himself to his feet, blinked a couple of times, surveyed the building, the Dragon with his leather jacket and his knife, the girls in their cell, a couple of foot soldiers waiting by the door.

  “I’d heard you’d returned,” the Dragon said, smirking. “And clearly your mission was a success. When were you going to deliver my little beauty?”

  In her cell, Catalina Milosovici stared out at the Dragon, her grimy face pale. Clearly, she knew what was coming.

  Volovoi cleared his throat. “I wanted to finalize a few details first,” he told the Dragon. “A stolen car to get rid of, for one thing. And I had to secure the shipment of these other girls to your warehouse.”

  The Dragon gestured to the couch. “And you had to sleep, of course.”

  Volovoi cursed himself. “I had a long night with my idiots,” he said. “They did not go quietly.”

  “I am glad you succeeded anyway, Andrei.” The Dragon slapped him on the back, so hard that Volovoi flinched. “And this is a fine collection of girls for my buyer.”

  “I’m glad you approve,” Volovoi said. “I’ll have them in Manhattan this afternoon.”

  “And your next shipment?”

  Volovoi checked his watch. Almost noon. The Atlantic Prince would arrive with another box in a few hours. With any luck, the FBI wouldn’t find him before then.

  “Three p.m.,” he told the Dragon. “I’ll process the girls here and have them shipped to the warehouse in Manhattan. They should be ready for the buyer and his friends by tomorrow, at the latest.”

  “Tomorrow,” the Dragon said.

  Volovoi shifted. “It is possible I could have t
hem ready tonight,” he said. “Though it would be a rush.”

  The Dragon waved him off. “Tomorrow is fine, Andrei,” he said. “Take your time.” Then he turned back to the cell, where Catalina Milosovici waited. “It will only give me more opportunity to enjoy my little prize.”

  The girl’s eyes widened, and Volovoi felt his stomach turn. He knew what the Dragon did to his playthings. He’d heard the stories, and if they were even half true, Catalina Milosovici was in for a short, unpleasant future.

  The Dragon seemed to read his mind. His wolfish grin intensified. “Open the cell, Andrei,” he told Volovoi. “Quit stalling, and let me take this one home.”

  97

  CATALINA LET THE MAN who called himself the Dragon lead her out of the grungy building and back into the sunlight. It was hot outside, muggy and humid, a stifling day. In the container yard, a big American car waited, sleek and black. The Dragon opened the rear door.

  “Please,” he said, ushering her inside. “After you.”

  Catalina sat. The Dragon slid in beside her and sat close, one slick, sweaty hand on her leg. Catalina squirmed, tried to hide her revulsion. Gazed out at the little shack and wondered what would become of Dorina and the others.

  New York.

  “Park Avenue,” the Dragon told his driver. “Let’s take my little one home.”

  The driver shifted the big car into gear, and it idled away from the shack. Catalina studied the rows of containers. She couldn’t see the smelly car the silent man had brought her in, but there was a big truck backing up to the little building. The silent man would take Dorina and the others to New York, Catalina knew. She had to find a way to tell Irina.

  And she would have to do it quickly. The Dragon was going to take her to his lair, and then he would do things to her. And no doubt he would want her to remove her clothing when he did them. He would find the phone.

  The Dragon was eyeing her, talking to her. He had hiked up her large T-shirt and was touching her knee, seemingly oblivious to the filth that coated her skin. She hadn’t bathed since that awful hose on the docks. The Dragon didn’t seem to care, though.