by Robert Crais
Cole felt hollow, with a faraway buzz in his head like he had gone too long without eating.
Can I ask one more question, Mr. Willis?
Kinda takes your breath away, don't it?
Yes, sir.
What's your question?
Did Meesh have a speech impediment or maybe speak with an accent?
Willis laughed.
Why would he have a damned accent?
Thanks, Mr. Willis. I appreciate your time.
Cole put his feet up, leaned back, and stared at the Pinocchio clock. The only sound in his office was the tocking of its eyes.
The call to Willis should have been simple. Cole went into it hoping to learn something about Meesh's connection to Barone, and Barone's connections to Los Angeles, and maybe even whether or not Meesh spoke with an accent-but not this.
Is this the man you saw, Ms. Barkley?
Yes. Who is he?
His name is Alexander Meesh.
Cole stared at the Pinocchio clock, then a small ceramic figurine of Jiminy Cricket a client had given him. Let your conscience be your guide. Everyone needed a Jiminy.
He flipped through the NCIC brief, which did not contain fingerprints or photographs or DNA markers. Why would you need those things if you believed what you were told?
PIKE DROVE slowly when they left the warehouse. He rolled the windows down so the air would wash them, and took a long, meandering route through Chinatown, driving for more than an hour. They hadn't eaten breakfast, but she wasn't hungry. He stopped anyway and picked up Chinese for later. Pike hoped the drive and the air would help her leave the bodies, but the first thing she did when they got to the house was go to the table with his gun-cleaning things. She poured powder solvent onto the cotton cloth and pressed it to her nose like a huffer sniffing paint. She said, I can still smell them. They're in my hair. They're all over me.
The Kings.
He took the cloth from her.
Take a shower and brush your teeth. Put on fresh clothes. I'll clean up after you.
Pike phoned Bud while she was in the shower, but Bud didn't answer. Pike considered leaving a message, but a message might be discovered by someone else, so he decided to call again later.
When the girl returned with new clothes and wet hair, Pike took care of himself. He scrubbed hard, massaging the soap in deep, then rinsed and washed again, running the hot water until none was left. When he finished, he wet his clothes, rubbed in the soap, then left them soaking in the tub. He would have washed the girl's clothes, too, but they were fancy. He didn't want to ruin them.
Pike dressed in his last set of clean clothes, then stepped out of the bathroom to find Cole and Larkin in the living room. Cole was holding a manila envelope.
I missed you guys so much I had to come back.
Larkin said, He just walked in. He says he can still smell them, too.
Pike knew something was wrong. The tension in Cole's body was as obvious as a corpse hanging from the ceiling. Cole was pretending to be fine for the girl.
Pike said, What's up?
Got something here to show Larkin. Let's take a look.
Pike followed them to the table, where Cole opened the envelope. He put two grainy photographs that looked as if they had been run through a fax machine on the table. They were booking photos showing a dark-haired man with a round face, pocks on his nose, and small eyes. Cole stepped back so Larkin could get a good look, but Pike watched Cole.
What do you think? Ever seen this guy?
Conversational with a no-big-deal nonchalance. Would you like fries with that, ma'am?
Uh-uh. Who is he?
Alexander Meesh.
Larkin shook her head as if Cole had made an innocent mistake.
No, this isn't Meesh.
It's Meesh. He was murdered in Colombia five years ago. These are his booking photos from the Denver Police Department.
Pike put his hand on her shoulder. He felt the tension in her trapezius muscle. She didn't want to believe it.
Well, maybe he had plastic surgery. That's possible, isn't it? Don't criminals do that?
Cole shook his head.
Larkin, I'm sorry. This is Meesh. The record Pitman gave you, it's Meesh's record, but the man you saw with the Kings wasn't Meesh.
Then who was he?
I don't know.
Why would they tell me he was this guy?
Pike said, Same reason they lied about everything else.
Cole looked at Pike.
Better talk to your friend Bud. See what else they've been lying about.
Larkin suddenly stiffened under Pike's hand.
Ohmigod, we have to tell my father.
Pike hesitated. Whatever Pitman was doing, they had an advantage so long as Pitman didn't know they were onto him. Pike didn't trust Conner Barkley and his lawyers not to give them away.
We can't tell your father. Not yet.
Larkin went rigid and flushed.
I can't not tell him! These people have lied about everything, and now Meesh isn't even Meesh! Who is he? Why are they lying?
Larkin--
She grabbed his shirt.
They're lying to him, too, and he still believes them! He's my father. If you won't tell him, I'll tell him myself!
Pike studied her, seeing both fear and hope in her eyes. Conner Barkley was her father. She wanted to protect him. And maybe by protecting him, he might finally see her.
Pike took out his phone and punched in Bud's number. This time Bud answered. Pike told Bud they needed to see him and the girl's father as soon as possible. It was serious, Pike told him. Pike set the location, then ended the call before Bud could ask questions. When he lowered the phone, the girl squeezed his arm. She was calmer by then, though not particularly happy. Pike couldn't blame her.
Cole said, When we were at the warehouse--
Pike waited.
I'm glad you didn't tell her things couldn't get worse.
Pike looked at the girl.
Get your stuff. Let's go.
THE WAR in California between Mexico and the United States had ended in Universal City. Far from the skirmishes still being waged near Mexico City and the Texas border, the treaty to end local hostilities was signed in a small adobe mission known as Campo de Cahuenga at the top of the Cahuenga Pass. The mission was preserved, but it now stood invisible and unnoticed across the street from Universal Studios, hidden in plain sight by freeway ramps, parking lots, and two strange towers marking the entrance to an underground subway station. It was a good place to meet. Pike and the girl were waiting with the engine running when the black Hummer turned in from Lankershim.
The Hummer made its way past the mission, then through the parking lot. The doors opened the moment it stopped, and Bud, Conner Barkley, and Barkley's lawyer, Gordon Kline, stepped out. Pike wasn't pleased to see Kline.
Pike said, Let's do it.
They got out as Bud and the others came to meet them.
Her father said, Larkin, it's about time-we've been worried sick. Let's get you out of here.
Larkin didn't move.
I'm not going anywhere.
Her father seemed flustered, as if he feared she was about to explode.
But you have to come home. We were so worried.
He looked at Kline.
Tell her, Gordon. Tell her to stop this.
Pike was already tired of them. He faced Bud and spoke only for him.
Pitman hasn't been straight. The man he named as Alexander Meesh is not Meesh. Meesh died five years ago.
Gordon Kline threw up his hands. Pike had seen plenty of that when he was a cop. Courtroom Theatrics 101.
We're not going to listen to this. I will have you prosecuted for kidnapping. I knew you were a lunatic the moment I laid eyes on you.
Larkin raised her voice, and now it had a hard, angry edge.
Shut the fuck up!
Barkley was still looking at Kline. Larkin grabbed her father's arm.
>
Will you listen to me? Will you please just look at me and listen? We came here to warn you.
Conner Barkley looked pained.
Don't be like that, Larkin. Everyone's worried.
Kline said, We're bringing you home--
He reached for her, but Pike caught his hand and rolled it. Kline jumped back.
You sonofabitch! Flynn! Do something--
He could have ripped it out by the root, Gordon. Let's see what they have.
Pike took the faxed booking photo from his pocket and gave it to Flynn.
This is Meesh. This is not the man in the pictures Pitman showed Larkin.
Kline and Barkley both peered over Flynn's shoulder to see. Barkley seemed uncertain, but Kline was impatient and stepped away.
No, it isn't, but so what? For all we know, you made this yourself.
Bud slowly looked at him.
But why would he do that?
To milk us for more money.
Larkin was focused on her father.
This isn't the man in their pictures. They told us that man was Alexander Meesh, but he isn't. They lied to us, Daddy.
Daddy. It didn't seem like a word she would use. Pike liked her for it, but her using it left him sad.
Kline took a breath, then softened his voice.
We all saw those pictures, and I agree with you-the man in those pictures was not this man. But you're making it sound as if they misled us. Two people can have the same name.
Bud glanced through the attached pages.
Same name, maybe, but not identical arrest records. This record matches what Pitman gave me when I came onboard.
Gordon raised his eyebrows.
Really? Then here's what we need to do-we need to cut Pike loose here and now. Pike has to go. We need to get Larkin home and then we can ask Mr. Pitman. Believe me-I have plenty of questions. Believe me-if I don't like the answers, he'll regret the day he was born.
Conner's head bounced up and down as if all of this was the best idea he ever heard.
Why don't we go home, sweetie? We'll see what this man Pitman says after we get you home.
I'm not going home.
Kline stared at the ground as if he couldn't believe the trouble she was causing.
Flynn. Would you please put her in the car?
No, sir. Not unless it's voluntary.
Pike said, She isn't safe at home, Kline. Don't you get that?
Gordon Kline gazed up at Pike from beneath bushy eyebrows, and his voice was still carefully soft.
Are you sleeping with her?
Pike's mouth twitched, but he watched Conner Barkley. Barkley did not react, and Pike felt even more sad for the girl.
Larkin said, Fuck you, Gordon.
This is obstructing justice. You're a witness in a federal investigation. This man, Pike, he's putting you in dangerous situations--
This is a dangerous situation.
-and he's alienating the people trying to help you. All I'm suggesting is maybe Pitman has a good reason for doing what he's doing. We'll ask him, and he'd damn well better explain.
Pike said, Ask him why he pretended he didn't know who was with the Kings the night Larkin hit them.
Are you saying he knew?
He was flashing pictures of the man the day after the accident-two days before he approached Larkin. Ask him why the man he claims to be Meesh is still trying to kill Larkin even though the Kings are dead.
Kline glanced at Conner Barkley, then shook his head.
I spoke with Agent Pitman this morning. He said they were still looking for the Kings.
They've been dead more than a week. We just found them.
I don't understand.
Larkin said, We found them-as in, we looked, and we found them. Someone put their bodies exactly where I had my accident, Gordon. Would you like the address? 18185. I think it was a message. That I'm going to join them.
Kline wet his lips. He glanced at Barkley, then shook his head.
You're sure it was the Kings? You are telling us now that George King is dead?
Larkin's voice was brittle.
And his wife. They were in the Mercedes.
Bud stared at Pike.
How?
Head. Executed in another location, then brought to the warehouse. The vehicle was registered to George King.
Kline said, So what's your point here, that Pitman murdered them?
I don't know.
Do you believe Pitman is behind the attempts on Larkin's life?
I don't know. It would explain the leaks, but all we know for sure is everything he's told you are lies.
Larkin said, You have to be careful, Daddy. You can't trust him.
Kline glanced at Bud.
Will you check this out? Eighteen-eighteen-five.
Right away.
Kline focused on Pike.
The man in the picture-the man who isn't Meesh-do you have any idea who he is?
We might have his fingerprints. I don't know that we do, but we might. We might be able to identify him.
As an attorney, I am telling you that if you withhold any evidence from the police, you can and probably will be charged with obstruction of justice and possibly as an accessory to the crime. I want you to know that.
Bud said, He knows that. Jesus.
Pike said, I'll take my chances.
Kline nodded.
Just so you understand. You're fired. Is that clear, Bud? This man is no longer in our employ. He no longer works for you, nor will he receive money from us or from you so long as you are in our employ.
Larkin shouted over him.
What is wrong with you? Haven't you paid attention?
Her father said, Larkin, honey, now he's breaking the law. We can't have that.
We came here to warn you, Daddy!
Kline interrupted.
Conner, I have work. Let's get out of here.
He walked back to the Hummer.
Conner Barkley frowned at his daughter. His quizzical expression had frosted into something impatient.
This puts me in jeopardy with the government, Larkin. We should never have been involved. We should have turned Pitman away, but you had to tell your story, and now here we are. Think of the exposure with the IRS. Think of the SEC. They could punish me, Larkin.
It wasn't about Larkin's safety. It was about her father. The company. The exposure.
Pike said, Bud, for Mr. Barkley's record-I am not in your employ, nor his, and never have been.
Pike glanced at Larkin.
I'm helping a friend.
Larkin ran to the Lexus, and Pike followed her.
Officer Pike--
Pike glanced back to see Bud make a tight smile. Kline and Conner Barkley were already at the Hummer.
Bud said, Call if you need me.
Pike got into the Lexus and drove away fast. He turned out into traffic, watching his mirror, but the Hummer stayed in the lot. They would need a different car soon. Kline or her father might describe the Lexus to the police.
Pike knew they had lost an edge. They had lost the element of surprise. Gordon Kline was probably already on the phone with Pitman. They had to move even faster than before.
Larkin said, What are we going to do?
Keep going.
She touched his shoulder. She rested her hand on his delt.
We won't back up.
We never back up.
Pike turned into a Safeway parking lot in Burbank and went into the trunk. The black backpack Pike took from the motel was inside along with their other things. Everything he had taken from Jorge and Luis was in it. Pike went through the maps and passports until he found the Baggie containing Larkin's picture. He closed the trunk, then climbed in behind the wheel and pulled back into traffic.
She said, What's that?
Your picture. The guy who's after you, he gave it to Luis. He touched it, so we might have his fingerprints. It didn't matter when we thought he was Meesh. Now
it matters.
Pike took out his phone. He was dialing when Larkin spoke again.
She said, You know what's fucked up? I love him.
Yeah. I loved mine, too.
Pike had never said those words to anyone. Not even Elvis Cole.
John Chen SO HERE he was, after-hours yet again, working off the books and against the rules, flying low in a one-hundred-percent free-fire danger zone that would get his ass canned if Harriet found out, but John Chen loved it. He abso-fucking-lutely LOVED it! Maybe better than his Porsche. Maybe better than seeing his name in the paper. Maybe even better than the 'tang.
Okay, well, let's not get carried away. Nothing was better than 'tang.
Chen giggled when he realized what he was thinking, a kind of snurfling yuck-yuck-yuck. Chen had always hated his laugh. The other kids had made fun of it (along with everything else about him), but Chen no longer gave a rolling rat-fuck because-as of twenty minutes ago-John Chen was THE MAN!
Chen had this epiphany when Joe Pike called, Pike asking him to drop everything and run a fingerprint check.
His personal friend, Joe Pike-
-who needed John Chen.
-who valued Chen's knowledge and skill.
-who trusted him.
(And was not Joe Pike the baddest muhfuh kickin' the streets of this city? Was he not the bravest, toughest, most feared ex-cop to stride the Earth? The most brilliant investigator [Pike had been carrying Cole for years]? Was he not a superhero in Levi's [Chen thought they could make a mint selling Joe Pike action figures]? Did he not get the most 'tang [like that steaming hot babe waiting with Pike in the parking lot]?) Joe Pike was THE MAN, and WHO did Pike call when he needed help?
John FUCKING Chen, that's who!
Harriet said, John! Why are you still here?
Snuck up right behind him, that bitch.
Caught by surprise, John ducked his head and hunched his shoulders even as the skin along his back crawled, cringing in that instant of panic like he had cringed so many thousands of times before-but then John Chen thought, No-THE MAN does not cringe.
Chen straightened and gave her his most confident smile. And, you know, he actually felt confident.
Finishing some work from yesterday. Don't sweat it, Harriet. I punched out an hour ago.
Chen had already reached his overtime limit for the week.
