by Robert Crais
Pike jiggled the boy. The boy laughed, then pulled off Pike’s sunglasses. The last person who took Pike’s shades bought a three-week stay in the hospital. The boy waved them like a rattle.
Cole said, “What about the baby?”
Pike jiggled the kid again, and let the little guy punch him. Pike was fascinated by his eyes. He wondered what the boy saw, and why he took such delight in those things.
“He needs someone who’ll take care of him.”
“And that’s you?”
“Not me, but someone. Everyone needs someone.”
“Even you?”
Pike studied his friend for a moment, then gently took back his glasses. He didn’t put them on. The boy seemed to like him without them.
They handcuffed Rina to the bed in Cole’s guest room, then made a makeshift bassinet in the living room. The boy didn’t like the food Cole bought, so they made scrambled eggs. He liked the eggs fine.
Pike phoned Kelly Walsh at ten minutes after nine that night, but kept it vague. He told her he might soon know where the guns were located, and promised to call her tomorrow. His true purpose was to make sure he could reach her in case he heard back from Jakovich or Darko. If either of them went for it, he would have to move quickly, and he would need Walsh to move quickly, too.
Later, Cole went for a run, so Pike and Stone stayed with the boy. The kid crawled around on the floor, but grew tired quickly, and seemed cranky unless Pike held him. Pike held him, and after a few minutes the boy fell asleep. Pike kept his cell phone handy, but nobody called.
Stone got shitfaced and passed out on the floor, so Pike woke him and told him to sleep in the car. Pike didn’t want the snoring to disturb the boy.
Groggy, Stone said, “I gotta go see that guy.”
Cole returned an hour later, and volunteered to watch the boy if Pike wanted to run, but the boy was still sleeping on Pike’s shoulder, and Pike didn’t want to disturb him.
Cole shut the lights and went up to his loft for a shower. A few minutes later, Pike heard Cole climb into bed, and the last light went off. That was it for the day. Pike listened to the house settle, and still didn’t move.
Sometime after two that morning, a thin layer of clouds masked the full moon, filling the room with blue light. Pike had been holding the boy for almost three hours, neither of them moving. Then the boy squirmed, and Pike thought he might be dreaming. He mewled like a cat, then kicked as if he were about to start bawling.
Pike said, “I got you, bud.”
The boy woke, arched his back, and saw Pike watching. He stared into Pike’s eyes as if he had never seen eyes before, looking from one eye to the other, as if each view was different and fascinating.
Pike said, “Better?”
The boy lowered his head, and after a while he snored.
Pike never moved.
The little body was solid and warm. Pike felt the boy’s heartbeat, delicate and fast, and his chest move as he breathed. It felt good, holding a tiny living person.
Pike watched the night shadows play in the canyon.
The boy shifted again, and sighed, and once more opened his eyes.
Pike whispered, “Hey.”
The boy smiled. He kicked his legs and pumped his arms with excitement.
Pike said, “That’s right.”
The boy reached a hand toward Pike, his fingers spread.
Pike touched the center of the little hand with his index finger. The boy’s hand closed on his fingertip.
Pike wiggled his finger, just a little, and the boy, still hanging on, gurgled with a sloppy smile as if Pike’s finger was a wonderful toy.
Pike wiggled his finger again, and the kid gurgled again, and Pike realized the little guy was laughing. Holding tight, and laughing.
Pike whispered again.
“You’re safe, boy. I won’t let them hurt you.”
The feet kicked, and Pike sat, and held the little man for the rest of the night until a golden light brightened the world.
41
LATER THAT MORNING, JUST after full-up sun, Jon Stone crept into the house. He made a thumbs-up, indicating he had the rifle. Pike eased the baby onto the makeshift bed, and followed Stone out. The baby never stirred.
Outside, Stone led him behind the Rover.
“The real deal, brother. Chinese, not Russian. Fresh from the oven.”
When Stone opened the rear door, Pike saw a long, narrow cardboard box printed with Chinese characters. Stone opened it. The rifle was wrapped in a greasy plastic wrapper. Stone slid the rifle from its wrapper, and placed it on the box.
“Never been fired. The factory preservative is still on it.”
The rifle was mottled with a synthetic preservative that smelled like overripe peaches. The stock and pistol grip were made of a bright orange wood that was slick with the preservative. The Russians had gone to polymer stocks, but the Chinese still went with the wood. Pike opened the bolt to inspect the receiver and breech. They were flawless.
Stone said, “See? Not even a nick, bro. Mint condition.”
Pike worked the bolt several times. It was sticky. You had to put a thousand rounds through these things before they loosened up, but they were damn near indestructible. He slipped the rifle back into its wrapper, and returned it to the box. A 30-round magazine in its own plastic bag was included.
“Good work, Jon. Perfect.”
They put the box into Pike’s Jeep, and went back inside.
Michael Darko called at ten minutes after seven. Both the baby and Stone were sleeping, and Cole was checking on Rina. Pike was doing push-ups when the phone buzzed.
“Pike.”
“You been trying to kill me for four days. Why should I talk to you?”
“Three million dollars.”
“What are you talking about?”
“We both want the guns.”
“I want the guns. What you want, I don’t care.”
“You can’t get the guns. I can. My deal is in place, and you have a buyer.”
Darko hesitated.
“You are lying.”
“No, I’m not lying, but I need you to make it happen. That’s forced me to reconsider our relationship.”
“You think me a fool.”
“I have his grandson. That got you nowhere because he hates you. Me, he doesn’t hate. I met him yesterday at his boat to see the guns. I did, we dealt, they’re mine.”
Another hesitation.
“You saw the arms?”
“A sample. He gave it to me when we closed the deal, but now there’s a way to make even more money. I’ll show you. Hollywood Boulevard outside Musso’s in one hour. At the curb in full view where we’ll both be safe. You’ll see my Jeep.”
Pike hung up. He knew he couldn’t convince Darko with more talk. Darko would have to convince himself, and now he would either show or he wouldn’t.
Cole was back in the living room when Pike put down the phone. Stone was still sleeping. Pike explained what he was going to do, and Cole offered to come, but Pike turned him down.
“I’ll need your help later, but not now. Take care of the kid. Let Jon get some rest. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Pike knew he should have accepted Cole’s offer, but he wanted to be alone when he faced Darko. Didn’t matter how many people Darko brought, or whether or not Darko tried to kill him, Pike wanted no company. He later realized this was because he had not fully decided whether to kill the man even though he had made the agreement with Walsh. He wanted his feelings and his decision to be pure.
Hollywood was only a few minutes away. Pike drove down through the canyon, and was in front of the restaurant in less than ten minutes. The commuter traffic was building, but Hollywood Boulevard was still moving well and the early hour meant most of the metered parking spots were empty. He parked in front of the restaurant under a jacaranda tree, rolled down the windows, and waited.
Twenty minutes later, a heavy young man who needed a shave
came around the corner, heading toward Pike. Just another pedestrian except he was watching the Jeep. He walked past, looking to see if anyone else was inside. Pike watched him in the mirror. He continued past, and turned up the next cross street. A few minutes later, the same man and another man appeared in the mirror. They looked around at the other pedestrians and parked cars and Pike. They did this for several minutes, then the first man took out a cell phone. Pike watched him talk. He put away his phone, and moved closer, approaching Pike and the Jeep as if they were radioactive. The other man stayed on the corner.
When the first man arrived, he looked in at Pike.
“Why don’t you come out here? Come stand with me.”
Pike got out, and stood with the man on the sidewalk.
A few minutes later, Michael Darko came around the corner. Pike had seen him in Lake View Terrace, but this was different. This felt more personal, and right, and Pike was glad he had come alone.
Pike stared at the man who sent Earvin Williams and his crew to Frank’s house. This man’s pistol had killed Ana Markovic, and fired one of the three bullets that killed Frank Meyer. Here he was, the man responsible for Frank, Cindy, Little Frank, and Joey. Pike felt very little as he considered this. He was not angry or filled with hate. More like he was an observer. Pike thought he could probably kill all three men in less than a second with his pistol. He could also kill them with his hands, though this would take longer. Pike waited until Darko arrived, then motioned toward the Jeep.
“In back. Take a look.”
“You open it.”
Pike lifted the hatch, and swung the box around so Darko could see the Chinese characters. Then he opened it, and let the weapon speak for itself. Darko leaned close, but did not touch. The smell of the preservative was strong.
Darko finally straightened.
“All right, he will make the deal with you, but still you call me.”
“He wants the money in cash. I don’t have it.”
“Ah.”
“I can buy them for five hundred each—that’s one-point-five million dollars. And you have a buyer in place who will pay a thousand—the Armenians.”
“But you don’t have enough to buy them.”
“No. He wants half the cash before he will take me to the guns. That’s seven-fifty. I thought of you. Maybe you have it, but he won’t deal with you. So we partner.”
“I don’t like being partners with you.”
“I don’t like being partners with you, but business is business. This is why I offered a bonus.”
“Jakovich.”
“Once he sees the cash, Jakovich, the guns, and the money will be in one place. If we partner, you can be in that place, too, only he won’t know it. Then you can solve your problem, we can keep all the money, and you can be the head pakhan.”
“So what you’re saying is we will steal the guns.”
“It saves a lot of money.”
Darko studied him, and Pike knew he was considering it.
“What of your friend?”
“I miss him, but this is three million dollars, a third for me, that’s a million. I don’t have to like you.”
“I will think about it.”
“You’re either in or you’re not. If not, then I’ll find another partner. Maybe Odessa.”
A flash of irritation shadowed Darko’s face, but he nodded.
“All right. When it is time, call me. I will have the cash.”
Darko motioned to his men and walked away without another word.
Pike closed the Jeep, and watched them. He was vaguely aware of the bodyguards, but they were as inconsequential as a passing thought. He focused on Darko. Darko had done these things, and now Pike had an obligation to Frank. The obligation existed because they carried each other’s slack and trusted their teammates would pick them up if they fell. No one was left behind, which meant the obligation extended beyond logic and reason. It was an obligation made to the living that remained in death. Pike had spent much time thinking about these things, and decided it was a matter of karmic balance.
Pike let Darko walk away. He felt a stab of regret about the the deal he made with Walsh, but he needed something from her maybe even more than he needed to kill Darko.
Pike climbed back into his Jeep, and called her as he pulled into traffic.
“I need to see you.”
“A red Jeep Cherokee was seen leaving a scrap yard in Lake View Terrace yesterday. Was that you?”
“Yes.”
“Damnit, did you kill five people up there?”
“Six. I need seven hundred fifty thousand dollars.”
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“I met Jakovich. I just left Darko. Do you want the guns or not?”
“You met with them? Face to face?”
“Do you want the guns?”
Pike was in Hollywood, she was in Glendale. They split the difference and met in a Silver Lake parking lot on Sunset Boulevard. Pike arrived first, and stayed in his Jeep until he saw her pull into the lot. She was driving a silver Accord. Her personal car. He went over and climbed into the passenger seat. The agitation in her voice on the phone was gone. She seemed cool, and removed.
“You’re in deep doo-doo, buddy. The police want to arrest you, and they’re blaming me for getting them involved. You want to explain how six people came to be dead?”
“They were holding Milos Jakovich’s grandson hostage. Now I have him.”
“Excuse me?”
Pike told her about Petar Jakovich, and Rina and Yanni, and the rest of it. She had been completely out of the loop.
“Frank didn’t have anything to do with the gun deal. Jakovich told me that himself. Frank and his family were collateral damage. Darko went in because of the nanny.”
“Ana Markovic? You’re telling me those people were murdered because of a twenty-year-old nanny?”
“Her sister stashed the old man’s grandson with Ana to hide him from Darko, but Darko found him anyway. Darko thought he could use the kid to force Jakovich into a deal, but he was wrong.”
“How old is this child?”
“Ten months. A baby.”
“And where is he now?”
“With me. Darko was holding him at the scrap yard, but now he’s with me.”
Walsh wet her lips again, and her jaw flexed. As if there was too much information to process, and the swell was lifting her too high and too fast to catch her breath. She finally nodded.
“Okay. I’m listening.”
“Jakovich wants Darko. Darko wants the guns. I have something they both want, and I’m using it to play them against each other. I believe I can put them together with the weapons.”
“How?”
“Jakovich thinks I’m going to buy the guns, and Darko thinks we’re going to steal the guns. They each think I’m going to double-cross the other.”
“Jesus, Pike, are you an adrenaline junkie or what? What’s our timeline here?”
“Later today. Darko’s on board. I’m waiting to hear from Jakovich. I need three things to make it happen.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“I haven’t been working alone. The people who are helping me, they get a pass. In writing. I get a pass, too. In writing. Absolution from any and all charges arising out of our activities in this matter, now and in the future.”
“This isn’t a double-oh license to kill.”
“I’m not finished. I need seven hundred fifty thousand dollars, and I’ll need it in a few hours. Darko promised to front the cash, but he may or may not deliver. If he doesn’t, I can still make the play on Jakovich, but he needs to see cash.”
“Jesus. Three-quarters of a million dollars?”
“If I can’t show Jakovich the cash, he won’t show me the guns.”
She nodded, slowly.
“Okay. I understand. I think I can make it happen.”
“One more thing. I get the boy. You’re going to supply him with a U.S. bir
th certificate and full citizenship, so I can place him with a family of my choosing. This placement will not be a matter of state or federal record. No record will exist that his biological family can use to find him.”
Walsh was silent on this point even longer than when he asked for a pass on the killings. She finally shook her head.
“I don’t know if that’s possible. I mean, even if I wanted to, I don’t know if it’s legal.”
“I don’t care if it’s legal. I just want it done.”
Walsh let out a long sigh. Her fingernail ticked on the console between them, as precise as a metronome. She finally nodded.
“I’d better get started.”
Pike returned to his Jeep and drove back to Cole’s. Cole, Stone, and Pike spent the rest of the morning getting together their gear. When it happened, it would happen fast, and it started at ten minutes before noon.
Pike’s cell vibrated, and now it was Jakovich.
He said, “You have this money?”
“I can get it in four hours.”
“Cash.”
“Yes. Cash.”
“And Michael. I will want Michael.”
“If I get the guns, Michael is yours.”
“Yes, he is mine.”
“Where do I meet you?”
“Here. On the boat. I will be here.”
They agreed on a time, then Pike hung up and immediately called Kelly Walsh.
“It’s on.”
42
WALSH AND FOUR AGENTS from the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms arrived at Cole’s house an hour later. Two stayed with their cars, but two male agents came in with Walsh—a tough-looking Latin guy named Paul Rodriguez and a tall lanky guy named Steve Hurwitz. Hurwitz was wearing an olive green Special Response Team jumpsuit. SRT was the ATF’s version of SWAT. They spread through Cole’s living room with an air of watchful suspicion, as if someone might jump out of a closet. Jon Stone had brought in a large box of his surveillance gear, and Cole was helping him set up. Cole was shirtless, but had strapped on a bullet-resistant vest. Pike couldn’t blame them for being wary, especially with the cash.
Seven hundred fifty thousand dollars in cash didn’t take up much room. It could be packed in four shoe boxes, and fit in a single grocery bag.
