by Robert Crais
“You were supposed to keep me advised. I want to know what you’re doing.”
Pike knew she was trying to bait him into admitting he found the bug, so he ignored her.
“The guns are in Los Angeles.”
“Where?”
“Don’t know, but the deal is close. I have some information I need to confirm.”
“Don’t just leave me hanging. Where are those guns?”
“Jakovich has them. That’s all I know. You want me to leave it at that?”
“No.”
She sounded defeated, as if needing Pike’s help left her depressed.
“Does Jakovich have any children?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Michael Darko caused a one-year-old male child to be kidnapped, and I have conflicting information about the child’s identity.”
“Jakovich is an old man.”
“Doesn’t mean he can’t have a baby.”
“Jesus, Pike, I don’t know. So what if he does?”
“One of my sources tells me the child is Darko’s child. The other says Jakovich is the father. If Darko kidnapped this kid to force the old man’s hand, it’s blown up in his face. This source tells me the old man has ramped up the war, which means he could unload the guns faster just to get rid of them.”
“Okay, wait—how has he ramped up the war?”
“He’s vowed to kill the kid himself. This takes the child off the table as a bargaining chip, and sends a message to the other Serb sets. The source told me they’re big on messages.”
Pike heard Walsh take a deep breath.
“Is this source reliable?”
“I had a gun to his head, Walsh. How reliable could he be? That’s why I’m calling you—to see if any of this is possible.”
She breathed again, and then her voice was thoughtful.
“Vorovskoy Zakon. You know what that is?”
Pike glanced at Cole, but Cole shook his head.
“No.”
“Started with the Russian gangs back in the old Soviet Union, but it’s all through the East European gangs now.”
“What is it?”
“It translates as ‘thieves in law.’ Vory v Zakone. What they call the thieves code. These people live by eighteen rules, Pike—actual written rules, kind of like a guidebook for assholes. The first rule—rule number one—is that their families don’t matter. Mom, dad, the brother, sis—those people do not matter. They are not supposed to have wives or children. It’s actually written like that, Pike. I’ve read it with my own eyes.”
Pike thought about Rina.
“What about girlfriends?”
“Girlfriends are fine. Have all the girlfriends you want, but marriage is out. These guys swear a blood oath on this crap, and I have interrogated enough of them to tell you they mean it. So if you’re asking me whether Jakovich would sacrifice his own child, I have to say yes. They have these rules, and the rules are enforced. If the rules are broken, the punishment is death. I’m not shitting you. The old pakhans take this stuff seriously.”
Pike nodded, thinking about a man who could do such a thing, and then he continued.
“I need to know about Darko, too. If the child is Darko’s, then my other source is solid. If not, then not, and that business I told you about Darko leaving the country is probably wrong.”
“I’ll check with Interpol. They might have something on Jakovich, but I can already tell you we don’t have the information on Darko. You’re on your own with Darko.”
“Okay. Let me know.”
She said, “Pike?”
Pike waited.
“Don’t get second thoughts about killing him. Don’t make that mistake. Darko is mine.”
Pike said, “Sh.”
He hung up as Cole glanced up from the things he had spread on the table.
Cole said, “I think we have something.”
Pike went to see, thinking he had rules of his own.
32
Jon Stone
JON STONE DROPPED OFF Pike and his buddy at their cars, then drove back up the hill, but he didn’t return to his observation point. He would in a few minutes, but he wanted to take care of something first.
He parked outside Grebner’s house, noting that half the vehicles at the surrounding homes were Rovers just like his, and that almost all of them were black, also like his. He counted two white Rovers, and a silver, but all the others were black. Parking in this neighborhood was like hiding a tree in the forest.
Jon got out, went around to the rear, and opened the hatch. He dug around in his gearbox, selecting a sweet little nine-millimeter Sig he had rebuilt himself, along with its matching suppressor tube, which he had also built. He screwed the suppressor in place, checked to make sure no one was watching, then closed up his Rover and let himself into Grebner’s house.
Stone figured the three turds Pike described would still be trying to get loose, and, sure enough, there they were, the two outside, and the older turd there in the living room—Grebner.
Grebner was on his feet, stumbling around in a circle as he tried to see his back in a mirror. He had scored a pair of scissors, and was trying to cut the plastic ties binding his wrists.
When Jon walked in, Grebner looked over, saw the Sig, and froze like a stiff.
Jon said, “That guy who was here, with the dark glasses? He’s the nice one.”
Stone stripped the scissors from Grebner’s hand, kicked his legs out from under him, and dropped him to the terrazzo.
Stone said, “Watch.”
The two men outside saw him coming and tried to roll away, over and over like a couple of glowworms. One of them was barking in Serbian, but the other just kept rolling. Jon had to hand it to the guy.
Jon grabbed the barker by the feet, dragged him to the pool, and pushed him in. The other one managed to wedge himself against the bar by the time Jon caught him. Jon dragged him back to the pool, and tossed him in, too. They were splashing around like a couple of beached fish, and breathing about as well.
Grebner managed to gain his feet again, and ran to the front door, but lost a lot of time fumbling with the lock. Jon had locked it when he entered. Jon caught him at the door, dropped him to the ground again, then dragged him back to the living room. Dude slid easily across the terrazzo.
Jon said, “This is a lovely home, by the way. Wonderful view. Nice clean design. I have an interest in residential architecture.”
Jon bellied him out, then lifted his head by the hair so he could see the splashing.
“See that? They’re drowning. If those boys had the proper training, if they were true elite killers, they’d know what to do. That boy who was just in here? Sunglasses? He’d know what to do. Me, you could drop me in there like that, wouldn’t be a problem.”
Jon watched the splashing for a moment, and decided there wasn’t as much now as a few moments ago.
“Only you couldn’t drop me.”
Grebner said, “I told the other one everything I know.”
“I know. I just didn’t want him to have all the fun. You wanna go for a swim?”
“No!”
Jon smiled. Jon wasn’t going to throw him in.
But then Jon stopped smiling.
“You got a message to deliver. I just wanted to make sure you’ll deliver it in a timely fashion. You’ll do that, won’t you?”
“Yes!”
“I thought you might. Now let me ask you a question—does Jakovich have a buyer?”
“I don’t know. Michael say no, but I don’t know.”
“How about Michael? Why’s he hot for so much heavy metal?”
Grebner glanced away, which meant he was thinking. Thinking was bad. Stone snapped a hard right fist into his nose. He punched him again, then a third time.
Grebner snorted out streamers of blood, now spitting the words.
“He has a deal with the Armenians. Way over market price. He can make much. Way over much.�
��
“How much over much?”
“Three million dollars. He think maybe more.”
Stone dropped Grebner’s head. He admired the distant view for a moment, and thought, briefly, that he should probably drag those two assholes out of the pool, but then decided against it. He patted Grebner’s head.
“You boys truly fucked up this time.”
Jon left the lovely house, broke down and stored his weapon, then resumed his position at the end of the street.
He took out his cell phone, and called a friend of his who often dealt in illegal arms.
“Hey, bruddah-man! What’s the word on those AKs?”
Sitting there, he reminisced about the good times he had with Frank Meyer in foreign lands, and waited for something to happen.
33
COLE WENT THROUGH THE call log on Grebner’s phone, examining both the incoming and outgoing calls, and made notes in a spiral notebook. When he finished, Cole brought up the most recent incoming call number on Grebner’s phone, and held it out. Pike saw a number in the 818 area code.
Cole said, “This is the call you answered when the caller hung up. The incoming number.”
“Darko.”
“I think so. This is the last outgoing call, which is the pager number programmed to Darko’s name.”
Cole showed him a number with a 323 area code, then scrolled back through the outgoing call log.
“The second to last outgoing call went to the same number, which is the call we saw Grebner make before he threw the phone.”
“That’s why I think it was Darko. Grebner paged him, so he was probably answering the page.”
“Uh-huh, so check it out. This particular phone only retains the most recent twenty incoming calls and outgoing calls—”
Cole turned the tablet so Pike could see. Cole had listed the call numbers in two columns, along with the times and dates the calls were made or received. Cole had drawn an X next to almost half of the incoming numbers, indicating the calls were received from blocked numbers. Cole had drawn lines connecting three of the outgoing calls with three incoming calls. He pointed out the outgoing calls.
“Here’s Grebner paging Darko. See the times?”
“Yeah.”
Cole pointed out the corresponding incoming calls.
“Okay, over here he receives an incoming call within twenty minutes of making the page. One of the callbacks was from a restricted number, but two come from the same number as the call you answered up at the house.”
“Different locations?”
“That’s what I’m thinking. But why use a listed number? Twice?”
“No cell service. Nothing else available.”
Cole stared at the call lists for a moment, then picked up his phone.
“Let’s see what we get.”
Cole dialed the number, then listened. He listened for a very long time before he ended the call.
“No answer. I counted twenty rings, but nada. That usually means a phone is unplugged.”
Pike said, “Can you get an address?”
Two calls and twelve minutes later, Cole had an address. The phone number was listed to something called Diamond Reclamations in Lake View Terrace, up in the San Fernando Valley. When Cole lowered his phone, he nodded at Pike.
“It fits. Lake View is in the foothills up by Angeles Crest. Mountains mean bad cell service, so landlines are the way to go.”
Pike said, “Good start. How about I check out Lake View, and you see what you can get from the rest of this?”
Cole pushed the papers back into the grocery bag.
“How about I try to find Rina and Yanni? There are way too many conflicting stories here—”
Cole was still talking when they heard the outside gate, and Pike went to the door. Rina stopped when she saw him, shielding the sun from her eyes with a hand. She was wearing a black T-shirt over the same jeans, the big purse slung over one shoulder, her bag slung over the opposite shoulder.
She said, “What you find?”
“Where’s Yanni?”
She scowled at him for not answering her question, then pushed past him into the guesthouse. She glanced at Cole as she put her bag on the table.
“He work for a living. They don’t give him time off to help find stolen children.”
Cole said, “Where were you?”
She upended her bag, dumping out freshly washed clothes.
“I went to wash. My clothes, they smelled like feet.”
Pike said, “You know Emile Grebner?”
“Of course, I know. He has fucked me many times.”
She said it as matter-of-factly as if she had told them her eyes were blue or her hair black, and refolded her laundry without pausing, as if this statement had no meaning. Pike thought maybe, for her, it had none.
Cole said, “How do you know him?”
“He have the big house in the hills, and would have girls for the parties. This was before Michael, when I was first here, fifteen, sixteen years old, I think. He like only Serbian girls, not American or Russian. He trust the Serb girls, and we speak like back home. That is where Michael first see me, up there. Why you want to know?”
“So you know he’s one of Darko’s authority men—a close associate?”
“I just tell you I know him. Are you not listening?”
Pike said, “Grebner told us the baby’s father is Milos Jakovich, not Darko.”
Pike watched her carefully to read her reaction. A deep frown cut lines between her eyebrows as if she was struggling with the language problem. She glanced at Cole, who was watching her just as carefully, then turned back to Pike.
“You are making this up?”
Cole said, “We’re not making it up. Are you?”
“Fuck you. You and the dog you walked in on.”
She turned back to Pike.
“This is bullshit. I know who the father is and Michael know, too. Grebner, he lies. Why he say this? Where you see him?”
Pike said, “Grebner believes it. Darko and Jakovich are at war over some illegal arms. Rifles. Do you know anything about that?”
“Michael hate the old man, this I know, but I don’t know nothing about this other thing. Why he say Michael not father?”
“Probably because this is what Michael told him. Is Jakovich the f ather?”
“No.”
“Could he think he’s the father?”
She drew herself up and gazed at Cole as if he was the scum of the earth.
“His dick has never been in me.”
Cole turned red, but Rina looked back at Pike, and Pike thought her eyes were growing wet.
“This is what Michael is telling his men, that he is not the father?”
“Yes.”
“This makes no sense. Michael tells me he will take Petar back to Serbia, and will not take me. Michael is father, not this old man I have never seen. I am mother. Petar is mine.”
Cole frowned at Pike.
“This is making my head hurt.”
Rina ignored him.
“He say Michael say this terrible thing?”
“Yes.”
Her face folded as she thought about it, and she looked forlorn.
“I don’t know. Maybe he tell them this to hide his shame.”
Cole crossed his arms, and leaned back, his eyes growing distant and cool.
“That the boy’s mother is a whore?”
“Why else? All men are weak. You would do the same.”
“No. I wouldn’t.”
“Big talk. So maybe you make me pregnant, then we’ll see how big you talk, here is the mother, she is a whore.”
Cole simply stared at her, and Rina turned back to Pike.
“Does Grebner say where is my boy?”
“No.”
“Men are so weak. Take me to him. I make him say.”
“He doesn’t know, but we might have a lead on Darko. Have you heard of Diamond Reclamations?”
Her fa
ce scrunched as she thought, but then she shook her head.
“No. This is a jewelry store?”
Pike said, “We’re going to find out.”
Rina shoved her clothes aside, and started for the door.
“Good. Let’s find out.”
Pike stopped her.
“Not you. Me.”
Rina launched into a stream of Serbian, and kept it up as they left.
Outside, Cole said, “What do you think she’s saying?”
“No idea.”
“We probably wouldn’t like it.”
“No. Probably not.”
Pike left Cole at his car, and headed for the Valley.
34
Elvis Cole
COLE THOUGHT ABOUT YANNI as he left the guesthouse.
Janic “Yanni” Pevich had come back clean. When Cole checked the plate Pike gave him from Yanni’s F-150 pickup truck, he had learned the vehicle was registered to a Janic Pevich. The leasing office at Yanni’s building confirmed the apartment was being leased to a Janic Pevich, and reported that Mr. Pevich had been an excellent tenant. Cole had then checked with a friend at LAPD’s Hollywood Station, who reported that Pevich had no criminal record. Cole had related all this to Joe Pike, and let it go, but after leaving Grebner, he had begun to have second thoughts.
They now had two divergent and different stories, which meant one of the principals was lying.
Cole worked his way up Coldwater Canyon to Studio City, and returned to Yanni’s apartment. Rina had said he was at work, but Cole didn’t know if he was working, or care. The F-150 was missing. Cole parked in the visitors’ parking lot and made his way back to Yanni’s apartment.
He knocked first, then rang the bell. When no one answered, he slipped the dead bolt and let himself inside.
He said, “Hey, Yanni, Rina’s out in the car.”
Just in case.
No one answered and no one was home.
Cole locked the door behind himself, then made a quick search of Yanni’s bedroom. The apartment was small, with only one bedroom, but it looked lived-in, and real. Cole searched through the bathroom, the dresser drawers, the bedroom closet, and under the bed. He found nothing unusual or incriminating, and nothing to suggest Yanni had lied. He also found nothing of a particularly personal nature, which he found odd—no pictures of family or friends, no souvenirs, and nothing to anchor a personal history. Ana Markovic had a yearbook and snapshots of her friends, but Yanni had nothing.
