He’d lived most of his childhood life in Germany, and he spoke German and English fluently, thanks in part to a succession of American tourist girlfriends. He’d left school at fifteen, when he concluded that he was smarter about the real world than most of his teachers. For five years afterward, he drifted. Berlin. Prague. Riga. Tallinn. Needing money, he’d joined an Estonian gang as muscle to take care of their street-level problems. When the gang expanded into smuggling operations, he’d helped them bribe, blackmail, and threaten their way onto the Ingersstrom. The ship was now the backbone of their North American ventures. That included fresh-faced girls who could fetch as much as fifty thousand dollars with certain Arab buyers. They’d trafficked girls six times in two years.

His only failure had been the one who tried to run. The loss of a prime package didn’t sit well in Tallinn, and other gang members had paid for smaller mistakes with a plastic bag taped over their heads. Bernd was lucky. He was too valuable to lose, but the ice under his feet was thin.

He felt his American cell phone vibrate in his pocket. He checked his surroundings and then slid the phone into his hand. He’d been waiting for his Duluth contact to check in by text:

Are you on time?

Bernd keyed in a response: Two days. Be ready.

Always.

What about the package?

Already in storage.

Bernd typed: I expect no problems this time.

There was a long pause before the reply.

The last package arrived late. Not my fault.

Bernd didn’t want excuses. The situation with the woman from Colorado had been a disaster, and he couldn’t afford a repeat. None of them could. As it was, he was afraid the situation in Duluth had become too hot. He wondered about the police investigation and how far it had gone.

Have you had visitors?

Yes.

How much do they know?

Enough to cause problems. Plus, we have a new situation.

What?

There was a problem with the gun I gave you. It had a history. I didn’t know.

Bernd felt his anger rise. More problems. More mistakes. Whenever he relied on other people, they disappointed him. He’d invested time and money in the Duluth operation, and it was too late to walk away now. The only thing to do was to see it through.

Stick to the plan. Collect the girl. And then tie up loose ends.

He wrote:

Make sure the package is ready. I’m coming.

47

47

Cat listened to the whistle of trains across the street from Al’s house. She rested her feet on the broken footrest of an old recliner and sweated in the stifling living room. Dirty bowls and plates were stacked on a tray table in front of the sofa. The beige carpet was littered with video games and toys.