by Robert Crais
Walsh carried the money in a gym bag slung over her shoulder. The bag was smaller than Pike thought, but he could see the weight in her walk.
She hefted it onto Cole’s dining room table, and opened it, letting Pike see why the package was small. The bills were in vacu-packed bricks, bound in clear plastic wrap.
She said, “It isn’t all real. Half a million is funny money we took off a drug dealer.”
Cole said, “What if Jakovich checks?”
Hurwitz laughed.
“You’d better start running.”
Walsh placed a form on the table and handed a pen to Pike.
“You have to sign for it. If Darko delivers, don’t use it, but it’s the best I could do with this little time. C’mon, sign, and let’s figure this out. I have a lot of people to coordinate.”
Cole said, “Aren’t you going to let him count it?”
“Stop being stupid.”
Pike signed, and pushed back the form.
Walsh said, “Where’s the girl’s sister?”
Cole brought Rina from the guest room. She looked shrunken, and even more pale. Rodriguez placed her under arrest as Cole snipped off the plasti-cuffs. The agent immediately turned her around, and cuffed her again. Hurwitz repeated everything Rodriguez told her in Serbian.
Pike said, “For what it’s worth, at the end, she helped.”
“Goody for her. If she helps when it comes time to testify, it might do her some good.”
Rina looked at Pike as Rodriguez led her out, and said something in Serbian, but Pike didn’t know what she said.
Hurwitz looked at him.
“You speak it?”
“No.”
“She hopes you do it for Ana.”
Walsh looked irritated, as if they were wasting time.
“What about the kid? Where is he?”
“Someplace safe.”
She started to say something, but shook her head and changed course.
“Forget it. Okay, let’s go through this. What are we doing?”
Pike said, “Jon.”
Stone held up something that looked like the GPS locator he removed from Pike’s Jeep.
“Remember this?”
Walsh reddened as Stone went on.
“It’s not yours. We canned the one you put on his Jeep. This one’s mine. White-burst digital ceramic, no RF, will not show on airport scanners or wands. It’s better than yours.”
The SRT agent laughed.
“But my dick is bigger.”
Stone ignored him.
“One on Pike, one on Cole—they’re going together—and one on their vehicle, Pike’s Jeep. We link through a receiver that repeats on my laptop. I can email the software to you, and slave the repeater.”
Hurwitz went to the door, and called to the agents outside.
“Carlos. Get in here, dude. We’re into some technical stuff.”
Another agent trotted in on the bounce, and immediately got together with Stone. Pike went through the setup, and how he planned to bring Jakovich and Darko together with the guns. It would be up to Walsh and her people to follow in trail, and make their entrance when the guns were confirmed.
She said, “What about Darko?”
“Elvis and I will meet him in Venice. We picked a location close to the marina.”
Walsh looked at Cole.
“Both of you?”
Pike said, “He’s going to have people. It’ll look better if I have people, too.”
Cole pointed at himself.
“I’m his people.”
Pike went on with it.
“He thinks we’re meeting to pick up the money. The real reason is to give him this.”
Stone showed them a handheld GPS locator.
“He thinks he’s getting this to follow Joe and Elvis to the guns, but we’re going to use it to follow him. You’ll be able to track him, too, when you download the software.”
Carlos was grinning.
“I like it.”
Hurwitz said, “So Venice will be our start point?”
“Only to meet Darko. From Venice, we’re going to the marina. That’s the true start.”
Walsh said, “We don’t know the end point. Jakovich will be taking them to the guns.”
“If he takes them out on the boat, we’re screwed.”
Hurwitz wasn’t thrilled, but he shrugged.
“Okay. So we trail and set up on the roll. We’ve done it before.”
They spent the next hour going over their plan and setting up their equipment. Stone loaded his software onto Carlos’s laptop, then fit locators on Pike and Cole, one in Cole’s hair, and the other on the back of Pike’s belt buckle. Both Walsh and Hurwitz made multiple calls, coordinating the tactical SRT team and six additional Special Agents.
At twelve forty-five, the agents left, heading for Venice to rendezvous at their staging area. Walsh was the last agent to leave. She hung back until the others were gone, then pulled Pike aside.
She said, “Nobody likes what happened up at Lake View, buddy. Makes me wonder what you were trying to do.”
“I told you what happened.”
“Just remember—when the shit goes down, Michael Darko belongs to me.”
At exactly one o’clock, Pike and Cole climbed into Pike’s Jeep and drove down the hill. Stone had already gone. Cole made an exaggerated sigh.
“Finally. Some alone time for Dad and Dad.”
Pike didn’t answer. He was thinking about the kid. They had left the boy with Cole’s next-door neighbor, Grace Gonzalez, and Pike wondered how he was doing.
Michael Darko was waiting for them at the end of Market Street in Venice. Market was lined with diagonal parking spaces, and died at the Venice boardwalk, just around the corner from the Sidewalk Café. Cole suggested it because he liked the pizza, but Darko agreed because the location was busy with tourists, street performers, and locals.
Two black Beemer sedans and a black Escalade were hunkered together, taking up most of the spaces.
Cole said, “Don’t these guys know any color but black?”
Pike pulled up beside the Beemers, and got out. Cole stayed in the Jeep. As Pike got out, both Beemers opened, and Darko and three of his men emerged.
Darko stared at Cole.
“Who is this?”
“He’s going to help me check the rifles. Jakovich expects it.”
Pike gave him the handheld locator and showed him how it worked. It showed a circle of green light on a map.
“This is how you follow us. See the light? That’s us. Don’t follow too close because Jakovich might see you. Hang back. Use this to stay with us.”
Darko and two of his men had a conversation about the device, which Pike didn’t understand, and then Darko opened the Beemer’s back door. He took out a gym bag that was much larger than the one Walsh delivered.
“The money. Count it, you want.”
Banded packs of hundred-dollar bills filled the bag. Pike didn’t bother to count.
“Don’t need to count it. We take the guns, you’re getting it back.”
Darko smiled, then winked at his friends.
“You know, this works, maybe you and me, we will do business again.”
Pike said, “I doubt it.”
Darko was thoughtful.
“So tell me something. How are you going to deliver me to Jakovich?”
“I told him you think I’m going to sell the guns to you. I told him I would set up the meet with you, and when you showed up, his guys could kill you.”
Pike made a pistol of his hand, pointed at Darko, and pulled the trigger.
Darko seemed to realize what Pike had said, and slowly looked around at the surrounding buildings.
Pike said, “We’d better go. He’s waiting.”
Pike got back into the Jeep and headed for the marina.
43
PIKE COULD SEE THEM in the rearview, eight or ten cars back, but the three large black vehicles bunched
together looked like a freight train.
Cole phoned Jon Stone and described their cars.
“Two Beemer sedans and an Escalade, all black. You reading us okay?”
Cole listened for a minute, then closed his phone.
“They’re clear. We’re clear. He’ll pass it to Walsh.”
They drove south along the beach, then turned inland at Washington, heading for the Palawan Way marina entrance. It was close, and getting closer. The SRT and Special Agent teams were set up on both sides of Palawan Way outside the marina. At least one SRT car had taken a position inside on the island, but Pike did not look for them, and probably wouldn’t have found them if he had.
They turned onto Palawan, drove to the hotel at the end of the finger, and parked in exactly the same spot Pike had parked in the day before.
Pike said, “You ready?”
“I’m good.”
Pike called Walsh.
“We’re at the gate.”
“We can see that, Pike.”
“Calling him now.”
Pike broke the connection, then called Jakovich. A man who wasn’t Jakovich answered.
“Pike. For Mr. Jakovich.”
Pike expected them to buzz him in, but they didn’t.
The voice said, “We’ll be right out.”
Five minutes later, Milos Jakovich and his two bodyguards came through the gate. Jakovich hesitated when he saw Cole, and Pike could see he wasn’t happy, but the three of them finally approached.
Jakovich said, “Who is this?”
“He’s going to help me check the weapons. If we make the deal, he’ll arrange the transportation.”
Jakovich looked even less happy.
“I’m not going to stand there while you inspect three thousand rifles. It will take all night just to take them out of the crates.”
“I don’t care if you wait or not, but I’m going to check them. This isn’t a surprise. I told you I would.”
Jakovich was clearly irritated, and waved his hand.
“Let me see the money.”
Pike got out, and showed him Darko’s gym bag.
“Seven hundred fifty.”
Jakovich rifled a few of the packs, then pulled a bill at random and examined it. He took a marker from his pocket, wrote on the bill, and studied the ink.
Cole said, “Good thing they aren’t counterfeit.”
Jakovich glanced at him, then put the bill back into the bag.
“Okay. We go.”
He raised his hand, and two dark gray Hummers rumbled out from either side of the hotel. One stopped in front of the Jeep, and the other behind, trapping it.
Jakovich said, “We go in my cars. I like it better that way.”
Pike did not look at Cole or hesitate. He followed Jakovich to the closest Hummer. One of the bodyguards brought Cole to the second Hummer. Separation was bad, but showing fear was worse.
Pike said, “How far?”
“Not far.”
As soon as he was in the backseat, a man in the front passenger seat pointed a pistol at him.
Jakovich said, “We going to take your gun this time.”
The other big man patted for his guns, and immediately pulled back.
“He is wearing a vest.”
Pike said, “Precaution.”
Jakovich tugged at his shirt.
“We take the vest. You not going to need it.”
They took his Python and the .25 he kept on his ankle, and told Pike to take off his sweatshirt. Pike unstrapped the vest, then was allowed to put on the sweatshirt. The same big man ran a wand over him, searching for RF devices. Pike kept himself relaxed, planning what he would do if they found Stone’s bug. The wand moved over his shoes, then up the sides of his legs. If they found the bug, Pike knew his only chance was to acquire a weapon and exit the vehicle. He wouldn’t go for the weapon that was pointed at him. If the wand beeped, he would pull the man with the wand close as a shield, then go for the wand man’s weapon. He would shoot the man in the front seat first, then the wand man, then push his way out.
The wand passed over his buckle without beeping.
Point for Jon Stone.
They pulled away, and the second Hummer fell in behind.
Two points for Stone.
They followed Palawan off the finger, then circled the marina. Pike felt certain they were heading for the freeway, but the Hummers never left the marina. They circled past the green glass towers and restaurants, and kept circling until the street ended at undeveloped land. Then they turned back toward the water, following the last remaining street in the marina. They passed the final row of slips, then the last leg of the channel before it reached the ocean. Here, the channel was lined with maintenance buildings, nautical supply shops, storage facilities, and fishing and boat rental businesses.
The Hummers pulled up outside a long, low industrial building at the edge of the channel, and Jakovich opened the door.
“The guns are here.”
Pike looked around. It had taken only five minutes to reach the weapons, but there was only one road in or out. Jakovich’s guards would be able to see Walsh and her backup units coming from a quarter mile away.
44
A SIGN ON THE METAL building read A. L. BARBER—DRY STORAGE. It reminded Pike of an airplane hangar, with hangar-sized doors, but now the doors were closed. Two oversized forklifts were parked nearby, along with yachts on metal frames. They were either on their way into the building or on their way out, but for now they beached in the parking lot.
A large slip cut into the dock allowed boats to be floated onto a sling. They were then lifted from the water and placed on a metal frame. The forklifts then carried them into the building for secure, long-term storage. The building was on the channel, but directly across the street the landscape was brown and ragged. A few stunted oaks and some marsh brush dotted the sandy plain, but nothing else. Pike knew Ballona Creek was somewhere on the other side, but a rise in the land blocked his view.
Jakovich said, “I sent them all home. We have the place to ourselves.”
Cole said, “You own it?”
“Of course.”
Jakovich unlocked the door and entered the building. Two of his men followed, but the others stayed by their cars.
Pike stopped at the door.
“You should have your men come in with us. They’ll attract attention out there.”
“There is no attention to attract, and who cares? I own it. I have every right to be here.”
The lights slowly flickered to life. The ceiling was almost three stories high, and supported by parallel steel girders. A thin frame of more girders was built onto the long walls, each facing the other. They reminded Pike of the Hollywood Squares, like a tic-tac-toe board set on its side. Most of the squares were now filled with yachts, a row on the floor with a second row above.
Jakovich and his two watchdogs set off the length of the building. Cole and Pike followed, with two more guards behind them. Cole glanced at Pike, arching his eyebrows to send a message. If Darko and Walsh followed their signal to the end of the marina, a caravan of vehicles would appear.
Cole ran his hand through his hair, palming the bug. He broke it, then flicked the tiny pieces away. Pike did the same.
A metal storage container the size of a two-axle truck sat in a bay at the far end of the building. It was just sitting there, secured by a single lock. Jakovich removed the lock and pushed open the door. It scraped the concrete floor with a high squeal.
Jakovich said, “There.”
Wooden crates stamped with Chinese characters filled the container. Pike knew from their size each crate would contain ten rifles. Three hundred crates. Jakovich mumbled something, and one of his goons pulled out a crate. It hit the floor with a bang that cracked the wood. Each rifle weighed about nine pounds. Ninety pounds. Three hundred crates, twenty-seven thousand pounds.
Jakovich toed the crate.
“You want to inspect, yo
u better get started. You gonna be here f orever.”
Pike opened the crate. Cardboard boxes matching Jon’s box were packed inside. Pike tore open the cardboard and slid out the rifle in its plastic wrapper.
“Forget it. We don’t need to inspect.”
“You like my rifles?”
“Yes.”
“Good. So do I. I’m going to keep them. I’m going to keep your money, too.”
He made a little finger wave, and the watchdogs drew their guns.
Pike felt Cole move more than saw him, shifting to the side, and Pike shook his head.
“You’re giving up Darko?”
“I will get Darko on my own. This way, I get three-quarters of a million dollars.”
“Let me ask you something. Everything Rina told you about me, you think I’d give you seven hundred fifty thousand in cash, and come here unprotected?”
Jakovich reached under his shirt, and came out with a small black pistol.
“Yes, I think maybe you did. Now we’ll take you for a boat ride. Show you the sights.”
He was saying something in Serbian when a voice outside shouted, followed by a soft pop like a champagne cork. The two guards closest to the door turned toward the sound. Pike didn’t know if it was Darko or Walsh, and did not wait to find out. Jakovich shouted at his men, and Pike instantly moved. He stepped into Jakovich, stripped his pistol, and shot the two closest guards. They dropped their guns when they fell, and Cole scooped up the nearest. Pike locked his arm around Jakovich’s neck, and fell back, using him as a shield.
“There a way out behind us?”
“I’m looking.”
Three loud bangs echoed through the building, and three men ran through the far door. They stopped long enough to fire several shots, then noticed the two men Pike shot, and then they saw Pike holding Jakovich. Jakovich shouted something, but Pike cut off his wind before he finished. The men disappeared between the yachts as more men came through the door.
Cole shouted, “Back here. The big doors—”
The gunfire out front exploded into a firefight. Bullets snapped through the thin metal walls as if they were tissue, and plunked into the yachts. Pike dragged Jakovich to the doors, then pushed him away to help Cole open the doors. Outside, they saw a confused group of men running and gunning between Jakovich’s Hummers and Darko’s black cars.
