The Importer: A Michael Thomas Thriller by Gavin Reese

Author:Gavin Reese [Reese, Gavin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Liquid Mind Publishing
Published: 2022-08-10T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

May 11th, 12:00 p.m.

Intercontinental Resort, Odessa.

“I can’t see her, but I know she’s here.” John bypassed the five-star hotel’s inviting main doors and strode toward a subtle side entrance to its bar and seafood restaurant.

“We didn’t see her come in,” Sergio objected over their comms channel.

“That don’t mean shit. I’m tellin’ you, this girl’s good like that. She’s a great cop, but she should’ve been a spy. Remember to stay focused outward. I ain’t worried about her, but Matsukovitch might know more about us than we think.” He opened the door and held it for an elderly couple on their way out. “I’m in.”

Maintained by the disposable income of wealthy Europeans and Russians, the restaurant’s classy interior was colorful, light, and airy, just the opposite of everything John associated with the former Soviet bloc countries. He waved at the host and continued past, walking to the left of the room’s interior.

Bianca Gutierrez sat at a back booth that gave her a view of the street entrance and the one from the lobby. She wore a conservative tan blouse that could have fit into most environments, and her hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail. The investigator watched John’s approach with no surprise or outward emotion.

“Thanks for coming,” he offered as he sat down across the table.

“Thanks for the invite. It’s been a while since CIA needed my help.”

“Never said I was CIA.” John picked up a menu from the table and motioned for the waiter. “Mind if we get this to go?”

“I’m surprised you’re ordering at all.”

“We got our guests something to eat earlier, but they said the meal they wanted most was burritos, which are a little hard to come by here. Deep-fried shrimp was their second choice, and none of ’em knew what the hell borscht was.”

The waiter appeared, and John ordered a dozen to-go meals. He leaned forward after the man departed. “Ever heard of The Butcher?”

Gutierrez chuckled. “Everyone on both sides of the law knows about Mishe Matsukovitch. He’s a tier one prize at my office. Were the women his?”

“He’s been paying a guy outta New Orleans to kidnap about a hundred women a year to keep his brothels in Ukraine and Eastern Europe filled. We found out about him a few months ago, but this’s the first chance we’ve had to get over here and do somethin’ about it. I hoped we’d have a chance to rescue at least some of his victims and put him down, but that might not work out.”

“Who’s ‘we’ if not CIA?”

“OGA,” John smirked. “You know how this goes, Bee.”

“Okay. Where do you see me and Interpol fitting into this?”

“I’ve got the victims safe for at least another few hours, and I’ll leave it to you to get them processed and back home. If you’re willing and able to take their statements and pursue criminal charges against Matsukovitch, I can back off the whole thing and leave it all in your capable hands.”

Gutierrez leaned back against the booth and crossed her arms over her chest.

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