A single person applauded from a few meters away.
"Very good, Ms. O'Laighin, very good!" Fyodor Sokolov had turned away from his railing and casually returned to the group. "Please excuse my doubts."
"They were misplaced." Nikki looked over the railing again. To where the figure had sunk into the bin bags. "So, are we getting down to business now?"
"Not so fast." Sokolov had arrived at the group and stopped next to Boris. "You've proved to us that we can trust you. That doesn't mean I'm going to do business with you."
How he obviously enjoyed that. This pompous bastard is protected by three armed men and probably more below deck. His grand entrance as a gangster boss was perhaps inspired by some old movie he'd seen as a boy. As little, beaten Fyodor, whose father had not been a great magician but a giant asshole. An opportunistic creep about whom there were whole files in the BPD archives. Even with pictures in them. How pathetic he looked in them, Artyom Sokolov, the great magician. A better circus clown with a top hat from which he had apparently conjured up rabbits and pigeons, like one of those guys who ran around shopping centers in the run-up to Christmas to impress people of an age where they believed everything anyway.
"Are we wasting our time here?" Nikki undid the top button of her blouse.
"That doesn't matter. Because it doesn't matter anymore." Sokolov looked at Mike Fisher.
"What are you saying?" Mike's eyes widened, and he took a step closer to Sokolov.
"I'm not interested in doing business with you."
"Excuse me?" Mike seemed to be having trouble staying calm.
"You have too many contacts with the American authorities. I'm not interested in that. Where is this going? Today, I will tell you about my deliveries, and tomorrow, you'll be found out, and you'll tell your friends everything you know about me and my business."
"Who do you think you are?" Mike sounded like he would jump at Sokolov's throat at any moment. "We work more reliably and precisely than anyone else."
The Russian bowed as old-fashioned and stilted as he had probably seen his father do as a child. "And yet, I regret to inform you that I have decided not to cooperate. Although I was very impressed by Detective O'Laighin's efforts. You can take a leaf out of his book."
"Let's get off this steamer right now. We're talking to the Colombians now." Mike stepped towards Sokolov as Boris grabbed him and wrestled him to the ground with playful ease. Boris waved over the two henchmen with the lumberjack beards and instructed them to pin Mike to the ground. Then he drew his gun again and pointed it at Nikki.
"If they find the driver's body, they're going to ask a lot of questions." Sokolov sounded almost worried. "You will understand that I cannot allow you to answer them. I thank you for demonstrating loyalty, but unfortunately, I cannot return it. It wouldn't have worked anyway. I know the Colombians; you don't want a war with them. And be glad! They would not only have eliminated you but your families as well." Sokolov raised his right hand and flicked it at Boris. "Get this done while we're still under this bridge. And after that, we'd better sink this steamer. Too many tracks."
"You know, Sokolov, your father wasn't the only one!" Nikki still needed to be addressed.
The Russian exhaled in annoyance. "What do you mean?"
"He wasn't the only great magician!"
Sokolov ran a hand over his face, glanced at his ridiculously pompous wristwatch, and held out his hands as if he were talking to a teenager who just didn't want to understand something straightforward. "Detective O'Laighin, what are you doing? Are you trying to buy time? This is unworthy; please stop." He turned back to Boris. "You know what to do!"
"Abracadabra!" Nikki raised her right hand and pointed her index finger at Boris' gun.
The eyes of the beefy guy with the tattoos on his neck widened. Mike snorted and was still writhing violently on the floor; the two lumberjacks had their hands ultimately holding him down.
"What the fuck?" Sokolov looked back and forth between Nikki and Boris.
"My mother could do magic too. She taught me." Nikki moved her index finger upward, and Boris followed the motion with the barrel of his gun.
"What --" For the first time, Sokolov seemed unsure.
Nikki lowered her finger, and the barrel of Boris's gun followed suit. Then, she moved her finger very slowly to the left. Until she pointed her index finger strictly at Fyodor Sokolov's head. He froze briefly before turning his gaze slowly and deliberately to Boris. He had followed Nikki's finger and was now pointing his gun directly at Sokolov's forehead.
"What the fuck?" Fyodor Sokolov spoke almost in a whisper for the first time.
"Don't be in such a hurry; more to come!" Nikki smiled at her counterpart. "Now comes the best part!"
With that, she turned in a circle, raised her hands, and clapped loudly and clearly three times. Already, ropes were dropping down to the steamer from both sides of the bridge, followed by RRT officers lowering themselves to the deck so quickly that Sokolov and his henchmen couldn't even reach for their weapons. Shouting and with weapons at the ready, the officers approached the group from both sides, brought the Russians under control, disarmed them, and handcuffed them with a loud clatter.
Mike jumped up from the floor and ran to the railing, followed by Nikki. It wasn't long before powerful bubbles rose from the river below, and a police diver appeared. He took off his diving mask.
"Did everything go well?"
"Yes!" the diver waved to Nikki and Mike. "The driver is okay. We secured him at the bottom of the river and immediately gave him oxygen!"
Mike thanked his colleague and looked at Nikki. "That was damn good work! We've got Sokolov by the balls! Finally!"
Nikki nodded curtly before approaching Fyodor Sokolov, who was being held in a tight grip by two masked RRT officers. "That was really clever with the paid extra passengers. Elaborate, a bit risky - but impressive! Although not as impressive as your trick with the boys. How did you do it?"
Sokolov looked at Nikki as if he suddenly no longer understood English. "What trick? What boys?"
Nikki came so close to Sokolov that the tips of their noses were almost touching. "Don't play dumb; it's not like you! Where are the kids, and how did you manage that?"
Sokolov seemed completely unimpressed, even though more and more RRT officers were lowering themselves onto the steamer on ropes and, in the meantime, had also arrested his men from the lower deck. "Dear Detective O'Laighin, which boys are you talking about? And what kind of magic trick did I pull off?"
Nikki took a step back and looked the Russian up and down with a penetrating gaze. "You'll talk, I assure you. You magicked seven boys away just like that, poof. And I swear to you, if you don't bring them back safe and sound, all the magic in the world won't help you!"
xxx
"Your lawyer will be here in a few minutes." The officer turned away from Fyodor Sokolov and left the interrogation room as quickly as he had entered it.
"Wouldn't you like a coffee?" Sokolov winked at Nikki as he stirred the contents of his mug. "It tastes terrible, but with a bit of humor, at least you can still drink it ironically."
Nikki rose from her chair. "We both know that your lawyer will pull out all the stops to make life difficult for us." She leaned with both arms on the edge of the table where Sokolov was sitting as if he were in his living room. "So, as long as we're just chatting noncommittally here, How did you manage this thing? And what is your purpose? You magically abduct children and then kill their parents two days later. Why? What's the point behind it? And where the hell are the boys?"
Sokolov smiled mildly, lifted the paper cup, and drank his coffee arrogantly. "You're talking nonsense!"
"All right, then." Nikki turned and headed for the door. "I guess we'll have to continue the conversation in prison then. Until then!"
She opened the door. Wordlessly, Nikki went next door, where her colleagues were already waiting for her.
"What do you think? Have we really got him by the balls?" Mike Fisher had so far only observed Sokolov through the one-way mirror to the interrogation room and had followed his previous conversations via loudspeaker. "Unfortunately, he hasn't revealed anything about his transportation routes. But he commissioned a murder in front of us, and he had a person kidnapped for it. That should be enough to bag him. But that doesn't help your kidnapped boys. What else do you think, Nikki? Are you going to get him to talk about this?"
"He might use it as leverage against us." Nikki sank into a chair, exhausted. "He didn't kill the boys' parents himself; he had one of his henchmen do it. So I'm sure the prosecution could make small concessions to him if he hands the children over to us alive."
Mike's expression darkened. "Nikki, this is no joke! We've sped up our whole operation because of your investigation. We've had to do many careless things, and if this doesn't work out now, it'll be an absolute disaster!"
Nikki lowered her eyes. Things had certainly not gone to plan. But what else could she have done? Mike and his new colleagues from the drug squad had already cast their lines for Sokolov some time ago. With enormous effort, millions in taxpayers' money, a lot of time, and meticulousness, the BPD had set up this supposed organization, which was supposed to plausibly and comprehensibly propose cooperation to Sokolov, in the course of which he would reveal his network of organized drug smuggling. Through which they wanted to break up his smuggling ring from the inside. The entire operation had been geared towards slowly and steadily gaining the Russian's trust. But then suddenly, these children had been kidnapped. Two were in Boston, and five more were in Washington D.C., Los Angeles, Houston, Seattle, and Las Vegas. Sokolov's drug ring had been the only identifiable link between the parents, all of whom had been brutally murdered two days after their son's abduction. Each victim had done business with Sokolov's people somehow; it simply couldn't have been a coincidence.
And so suddenly, everything had to happen quickly: A hasty meeting with Sokolov in Boston was scheduled, half-heartedly justified with supposedly favorable political conditions that were to be exploited soon. And Nikki had to be there; the woman from Homicide, who had absolutely nothing to do with this drug operation, had never turned up before and had therefore been able to get on this damned steamer alive because Mike had sacrificed his most important CI, Sokolov's bodyguard Boris, only in the hope that Nikki would manage to get Sokolov for murder and kidnapping and thus put him in a situation where only the admission of his drug dealings could help him.
"And this Boris really doesn't know anything about the kids?"
Mike, who had been transferred to the drugs department shortly after his and Nikki's wedding, took a deep breath and shook his head. "No, absolutely nothing. I've already asked him, he hasn't heard anything about it. We've put him in the safehouse for now. After the trial, he'll go into the witness protection program, and we'll never see him again."
Nikki clenched her hands into fists. "I've got to get this Sokolov to talk somehow!" She closed her eyes and ran her hands over her face. "I'm going back in there now!"
She opened the door to the interrogation room, entered, and sat down directly opposite Sokolov at the table. "Your assistant Boris testified during his interrogation that you very well --"
At that moment, the door opened. Someone stepped firmly into the room, and Nikki could already tell who it was by the scent of his aftershave.
"Mr. Hoover, how pleasant!" She turned to Sokolov's lawyer. "Always a pleasure to see you!"
"I've just come from the district attorney's office." The wiry man with gray eyes, wearing an elegant suit as always, shook Sokolov's hand, pulled a chair towards him, and sat. "Mr. Sokolov will not give any details, especially not in this matter of the kidnapped boys. I also watch the news and know that you have your back on the wall in this matter before the public. But that doesn't mean you should start accusing people indiscriminately. What makes you think that my client could have anything to do with this?"
Nikki had expected this question. There was an extreme suspicion, but not a single piece of objective evidence, that Sokolov was involved in the matter. And his lawyer knew that very well.
"The parents of the children who were killed were all, well, not particularly honorable members of society." Nikki wasn't impressed by Hoover's stern look, at least not in a way he would have noticed. "The parents of four of the children dealt drugs for Sokolov's organization; one father was a cellmate of one of Sokolov's men for years, and the other two had close ties to businesses that we know Mr. Sokolov uses for money laundering. Your client is the only link between the victims, and the perpetrator's highly creative approach is consistent with Mr. Sokolov's tendency to pose as a great magician."
Brent Hoover kept a straight face. He was, after all, one of Boston's best criminal defense attorneys. No emotions, no arguing, no threatening. None of the histrionics of those boring, average lawyers who were cheaper but cost their clients more in court.
He gets an overview, evaluates, develops a strategy, and calms the situation for his client—he is a true professional.
"Detective O'Laighin, I've just had a cursory look at the file in this kidnapping case. If I've understood correctly, the DNA recovered from the crime scenes proves that your wanted man is explicitly not Mr. Sokolov. So if you tell the media you've had a successful investigation by naming my client, I'll give you hell."
Nikki crossed her arms in front of her chest. "We assume that your client used a contract killer."
Hoover smiled, though not kindly. "And I'm assuming Elvis is still alive! There's not a shred of evidence that Mr. Sokolov has anything to do with your case. All you have is the unsubstantiated allegation that my client is involved in business with your murder victims. Detective O'Laighin, may I ask you a personal question?"
"Go ahead!"
"Are you acquainted with the Pope?"
"No."
"Do you know any practicing Catholics?"
"Yes, of course."
Hoover remained calm; his voice sounded soft and pleasant. Everything about him radiated calm and certainty, but unfortunately, he stood in the way of their investigation. And he obviously knew as well as she did that she didn't have much of a case against Sokolov.
"All right, Detective O'Laighin. This Catholic you know personally is probably acquainted with a pastor. This pastor, in turn, knows a bishop. This bishop certainly knows a cardinal. And this cardinal is personally acquainted with the Pope. So you see, you are personally acquainted with the Pope, if you will, through just five steps." Hoover pointed at his client. "Mr. Sokolov doesn't know any of these people personally. Your claim to have reached Mr. Sokolov through various steps from your victims is completely irrelevant. With the same energy, you could have investigated His Holiness, the Pope, as a suspect in this terrible affair."
Hoover rose without demanding an answer while Sokolov sat there as if waiting to be served the third course of a star menu. The Russian breathed as calmly as if asleep while the scent of his aftershave, which had probably cost a fortune, drifted over to Nikki like a gentle sea breeze.
"And then there's something else!" Hoover looked at Nikki as if she were a student stealing his time. "According to your investigation, the culprit you're looking for abducted these seven children in six different cities. And under absolutely impossible circumstances. Your investigation results provide the unknown person you are looking for with several alibis for each of his alleged deeds. What prosecutor will charge anyone in this case without making a complete fool of themselves?" Hoover held out his hand to Nikki. "That should be enough for today. Please have my client taken to his cell until the arraignment date. Mr. Sokolov will not be making any statements until further notice. And you, dear Detective O'Laighin, should carefully consider what you accuse my client of. Because, to be quite honest, if you stick to your version of these kidnappings, someone might get the idea that you're crazy. Have a good day!"