Chapter 27
Armed with confidence, a boatload of experience in dealing with all forms of bureaucratic bullshit, and an evidence bag with a Q-tip and a strand of blonde hair, they’d set up a meeting with Gill’s FBI contact.
In turn, he’d put them in contact with the two agents running the operation.
It was actually a task force now, which was composed of Canadian federal authorities and the FBI.
They met up with the federal agents in charge at a local cafe outside Montreal. It was long past the morning rush, and the only people around were workers on their lunch break, too busy chowing down to pay them any attention.
“Seriously?” Calvin asked with a sneer when Beckett finally finished talking. “You expect me to believe he’s—what? Shipping young girls in coffins from Europe?” He sipped his coffee, wearing a perpetually mulish expression.
“Not the whole way—” Hayes said. “We believe he’s transporting them to New York, and at some point on the journey from New York to Montreal, he’s drugging them and putting them inside the coffins.”
“Do ya’ll hear what you’re saying? Because it sounds like absolute baloney,” Calvin responded, running a hand over his face and blowing out a sigh like he couldn’t believe his presence was needed for this.
He pushed his finished plate—pancakes with syrup, hold the butter—to the side, and crossed his arms over his large chest.
“We have the evidence to back it up,” Hayes stated flatly.
“Hair and DNA is hardly proof,” he said, rolling his eyes.
“Even if your bizarre theory is correct, odds are, if we run this DNA through CODIS, we won’t get any matches because they probably have no arrest records and aren’t American citizens.
” He looked—annoyed. Like he truly believed they’d made up this whole thing to waste his time.
“How about you give it a fucking whirl before being a negative Nelly. Besides, if you explore the wellness center angle, I’m sure you’ll find suspicious activity there as well!
Illegal medical procedures are definitely grounds for arrest. ” Beckett made no effort to hide his own irritation and impatience.
“Sure—so’s the ungodly amount of coke getting moved by that family every year, but since the Rosarios are as slippery as a bucket of eels, I’m gonna need something that’s worth more in court than a minimum fine, if that!” he snorted, shaking his head.
“For fuck’s sake! The feds are already investigating Mario Rosario for human trafficking.
They bought Matthew’s call for their help—how farfetched is it that this particular career criminal has found such an improbable way to move those people?
” Hayes’ argument was delivered forcefully and at a much higher volume than usual.
Beckett’s partner was usually so even tempered, but at the moment he looked as if he wanted to shoot Calvin.
“Our agent on the inside hasn’t sniffed out anything pointing to human trafficking.” Calvin stared at them with open dislike and defiance.
Beckett rolled his eyes.
“Maybe because the Rosarios have yet to use him for anything beyond carrying their groceries from the car to the fridge. It’ll take years before he sniffs out anything—this,” Beckett waved the Ziploc bag vigorously, close to hitting Calvin in the face accidentally on purpose, “is actually something you can use.”
Mariah snatched it mid-wave before it could hit Calvin’s nose, examining it carefully. She’d been rather silent throughout, apart from a few requests for clarification. She was still nursing a half-empty cappuccino.
“We’ll run it,” she stated firmly.
“Ah, for fuck’s sake! Tell me you’re not buying this bullshit—” Calvin complained with a sneer.
“I’m buying nothing, but if the proof is there, then I’ll investigate it, as insane as it might sound.” Mariah’s quiet confidence was reassuring. She didn’t need Calvin’s approval and sounded perfectly fine fighting her own battles.
“Oh, look! This one has a fully functioning brain,” Beckett said, pointing to Mariah, whose mouth twitched as she tried not to smile.
“Then what?” Calvin asked, looking bored. “Say we find conclusive DNA on your—Q-tip, what then?”
“We request a search warrant for the factory.” Hayes gave him a cold look, wondering how Calvin could possibly meet FBI standards on any level.
“With what evidence?” Calvin asked, speaking slowly as if they were mentally deficient.
Hayes sighed inwardly, knowing that it was a waste of his time to convince this human equivalent of dryer lint of much of anything. Taking a deep breath, he decided to try anyway.
“All you need is probable cause,” Hayes said.
“We witnessed the armoured truck getting loaded and then it was later parked outside the factory. We know the shipments are coming in at the same time as the doors and windows that are moved to that factory. We also know that the factory has a condemned basement.”
“It’ll be enough to convince a judge,” Mariah said with a firm nod, and smiled as she wrote something on her notepad.
Maybe it was the years on the job, or the sheer number of crimes against humanity the two agents had witnessed, but it was clear these two agents’ attitudes couldn’t possibly be any different.
Calvin snorted, shaking his head. “If the Mounties want to waste their time and resources chasing ghosts, then knock yourself out,” he said dismissively.
To her credit, Mariah didn’t look in the least offended by his dismissal. She simply shrugged as if his opinion was irrelevant. She took one last sip from her cappuccino and collected her notes.
“We’ll be in touch as soon as the lab gets back to us,” she confirmed as she rose from her seat. She extended her hand to each of them.
Hayes shook her hand, giving her a quick nod of gratitude.
But Beckett held onto her hand and said, “If you do get a warrant, I want in on it.”
“As I said, I’ll let you know and—”
Beckett shook his head to interrupt her.
“I want in on the search. I want to see this place for myself,” he insisted.
She hesitated, uncertain as to what she had the ability and authority to promise. Technically, Beckett and Hayes were neither with the FBI nor part of the Canadian operations. They were simply two guys who’d sniffed out a bomb, more or less.
“I’ll see what I can do,” she said instead of making empty promises about something she had little control over. Her response was less than ideal, but it would have to do for now.
They were walking out of the café after the meeting when Hayes heard his phone start ringing.
“Monroe,” he responded quickly and then pulled it away from his ear to press the speaker icon.
“My uncle called an emergency meeting. My brothers are flying into Montreal as we speak. We’re all expected to attend—where are you?” Matthew sounded panicky. It was the first time Beckett could recall hearing him sound this worried.
“We’ll be at the condo in 15,” Hayes assured him.
“Make it 10,” Matthew demanded sharply and then hung up.
“Well, yes, of course, master,” Beckett mocked, rolling his eyes as he shoved his hands into his pockets and walked faster to keep up with Hayes’ lengthy strides.
“We did agree to play bodyguard,” Hayes reminded him.
“Did we? I think I vaguely remember a conversation about where we’d hide his body, but everything after that seems really fuzzy. Like a bad dream.”
“Is that going to be your legal defence?” Hayes asked, stopping on the driver’s side of the car, placing one hand on the door handle and the other on the roof. “Your Honor, I just—I can’t really remember!”
“They’d need a body to convict me. With my plan, they’d never find it.”
“Is there a plan for hiding my body? I’m curious,” Hayes said, sounding perfectly sincere.
Beckett gave him a crooked grin, then hopped into the passenger seat. He made him wait until they’d fastened their seatbelts before answering.
“I’d never kill you,” Beckett said, turning to gaze into his partner’s eyes, hoping he’d see how much he cared for him. “You’d simply drive yourself off a bridge, and I’d be inconsolable in my grief.”
Hayes couldn’t control his smile. It stretched lazily across his handsome face and Beckett nearly swooned at the sight.
“What a brilliant psycho you are,” Hayes crooned approvingly.
Beckett merely shrugged—too humble to gloat, as Hayes put the car in drive.