by Robert Crais
Cole went over.
“Start about a month ago, doesn’t matter which day. These logs include his cell and personal?”
“Yes, sir.”
Executives of a certain level often got free phone service as one of their perks. Companies would absorb their phone bills under the rationale their executives conducted significant business by phone.
The woman flipped through the pages until she found the right dates, and Cole followed his finger down the page. He skimmed down one page, flipped to another, then looked up.
“It’s the same number we got off Luis’s phone. Vahnich.”
Pike moved closer to Barkley and lowered his voice.
“Was it Kline who suggested you lie to Larkin about Vahnich?”
Barkley nodded, then realized why Pike had asked.
“Was Gordon telling Vahnich how to find her?”
Bud looked sick now, almost as sick as Barkley.
“That sonofabitch. He was probably trying to buy himself time. Maybe blaming you for holding up the deal.”
Barkley suddenly turned away and threw up. Most everyone in the room glanced over but quickly turned away; only one person moved to help. A well-dressed young man with spectacles went to a bar and hurried back with a napkin.
Barkley said, “I’m sorry.”
Pike thought he looked sorry, and Pike felt sorry for him.
“Vahnich put a hundred twenty million dollars into an investment with the Kings, sixty from a drug cartel in Ecuador and sixty from his own sources. That means terrorists, Conner. It’s likely the Kings brokered the deal and thought they were coming to you for the balance.”
“Nobody came to me. I don’t know anything about this.”
“Came to your company, and your company was Kline.”
Cole said, “They needed two hundred million for the purchase. Kline probably figured he could steal the balance from you, or use your company’s position to raise what he needed, but not as an investor with the Kings. He needed to buy the properties through your company in order to hide what he was doing. So the Kings gave him the one-twenty, but he couldn’t raise the rest. Maybe Vahnich got scared because it was taking so long and wanted his money back. Kline probably blamed you to stall.”
Barkley listened to him like a dog waiting to be kicked. Everyone else in the room was listening, too.
Barkley wiped his mouth.
“My lawyers advised me to call the police and the banking commission. I should call Agent Pitman about this. We have to get some forensic accountants in here.”
Pike said, “You have a bigger problem than what Kline took. Vahnich still wants his money.”
Barkley took a gulp of air when he realized what this meant, and colored again.
“Is Larkin all right?”
“She’s fine.”
“Does she know-”
He wavered again, then got it out.
“Does she know I lied to her?”
“Yes.”
“I want to see her. I want to be with her right now.”
Pike glanced at Cole, and Cole nodded.
“We’ll take you.”
40
Pike rolled with Bud and her father, and Cole trailed them alone. Bud drove, with Pike on the passenger side and Conner Barkley in the rear. Pike filled in Bud on everything he had learned from Chen about the identities of the men from Ecuador and their possible connection to the Mara Salvatrucha street gang, MS-13. Bud put in a call to a friend of his who worked the LAPD Gang Unit, and asked him to find out whether anyone named Carlos showed on the roster of the Los Angeles MS-13 clique. After Bud made the call, they drove on in silence.
Riding with Bud at the wheel held a strange familiarity Pike did not enjoy, as if he had been forced back to a place he made peace with leaving. Pike listened to Conner Barkley to avoid thinking about it. Barkley spent most of their drive on the phone, wheezing nervously as he filled in his managers and attorneys.
Bud said, “Been a long time, Officer Pike.”
Pike glanced over and knew Bud was feeling it, too-the familiarity they shared in the car, working crime and bad guys. Bud seemed warmed by it, but nothing felt the same about those days for Pike. He pointed ahead.
“Here’s where we turn.”
Pike directed them up the winding streets to the little house. The Lexus was still in the drive, and the old people were still on their porch. The two youngest Armenian cousins were washing their BMW, Adam and one Pike hadn’t met. They looked over when the Hummer parked behind the Lexus. Cole parked next door.
Conner Barkley finally closed his phone and leaned forward to look at the house.
“This is where you’ve been staying? Larkin must have hated it.”
Pike got out without answering, waited for Cole to limp up, then went to the house. Pike hopped onto the porch and rapped hard on the door one time to warn her.
“It’s me.”
Pike slipped the key into the deadbolt as he said it, and knew by the feel that the deadbolt wasn’t locked. Pike pushed open the door.
“Larkin.”
Cole, Bud, and Barkley clumped up onto the porch, coming inside as Pike called out.
“Larkin!”
Barkley said, “Larkin, are you here?”
Pike glanced at Cole, then Cole went to the kitchen while Pike checked her room and the bath. Her things were untouched, nothing was amiss, no signs of a struggle-it was two nights ago all over again. Larkin was gone.
Barkley put his hands on his hips, frowning.
“I thought she was supposed to be here.”
Pike was already heading to the door when a young voice called from outside-
“Yo, bro! Bro!”
Adam was on the front lawn, barefoot and wet from his car. He was shading his eyes from the sun, but Pike knew he had seen something, and knew it was bad.
“Everything right over here, yo? Mona, she okay?”
“She isn’t here. You see where she went?”
Cole, Bud, and Barkley had all come out. They clustered behind Pike on the porch.
Adam said, “Off with some cats. Wasn’t that stalker dude, was it?”
Barkley said, “What stalker? What’s he talking about?”
Pike hopped from the porch. Bud joined him, and Cole gimped down the steps. The milky sky had grown blinding, even through Pike’s shades.
Pike said, “Someone picked her up?”
“She seemed cool with it, yo? Else we woulda said something.”
Cole worked to relax the boy.
“You didn’t do anything wrong. Say what happened.”
“We were right here. She didn’t call out or act like anything was wrong. They just got in the car.”
“How long ago?”
“Half hour, maybe, somethin’ like that. We were just soapin’ up.”
Bud stepped in closer, looking like a street cop even in the nice suit, but Pike could see he was tense. The white air seemed electric now with Larkin’s absence.
“You get a clear look at these people and their car? What about your friend?”
“Thas my cousin, Garo. Yeah, we both saw. Coupla Latin cats and a white dude. Real sugar ride. Not my style, but sweet-one of those big-ass American cars all chopped down with the low seats.”
“A lowrider?”
“Yeah, like that. I don’t know the make, but it was sweet. Midnight black, chrome dubs-”
Pike said, “You get the tag?”
“Sorry, bro.”
Bud headed for Garo as Pike unfolded the Interpol photo of Khali Vahnich. Adam nodded.
“Thas him, yo. That the stalker dude?”
Cole made a soft hiss.
“Jesus Christ. How did he find her? How could he find her here?”
Pike felt as if he had failed. He thought back to the dance club. Maybe it happened then. Maybe she had been recognized, and he had missed the tail.
Barkley called from the porch.
“Does he know where she is or not? Can som
eone tell me, please?”
Pike looked at the little house he had shared with Larkin Barkley, then went to the center of the street. He did it without thinking and wasn’t sure why. The black lowrider wasn’t going to be at the end of the block, and visible tire trails weren’t going to be scribed in the street, but maybe that’s why he went. Something deep in the DNA pushing him forward. Something primitive making him hunt.
Pike closed his eyes. He had kept her safe for five days, but now he had lost her. Larkin Conner Barkley was gone.
Something touched his back.
Pike opened his eyes and saw Cole.
“We’ll find her.”
Pike stared into Cole’s eyes and saw shadows behind the comfort. Two small reflections, Joe Pikes staring back.
Pike’s cell phone buzzed. Pike checked the number, but didn’t recognize it. He answered anyway. The timing was too damnably perfect for it to be anyone else.
“Pike.”
“I want the money.”
Pike had heard the soft accent before. It was Khali Vahnich.
41
Pike kept his voice even. His heart rate gave a bump, but he did not want Khali Vahnich to know he was scared.
“My friend is alive and unharmed?”
“For a while. Then we will see. To whom am I speaking?”
Pike motioned to Cole it was Vahnich, then hurried back to the house. He wanted silence so he could hear Vahnich clearly, and a pen to make notes. Confusion and mistakes would kill her as quickly as panic.
Pike said, “Put her on.”
Inside, Pike went directly to the papers and pens spread over the dining table. He copied the incoming call number.
Vahnich sounded offended.
“She is fine. I will only kill her if I do not get the money.”
“This conversation ends unless I know she’s alive.”
Cole and Barkley had followed him inside, Barkley hearing enough to realize what was happening. He stomped forward as if he wanted the phone.
“Is this about Larkin? Is she dead?”
Pike motioned for silence. Cole clamped a hand over Barkley’s mouth. Barkley struggled, but Cole whispered into his ear and he calmed.
“Put her on, Vahnich. Put her on or go away.”
Pike focused on the call. He covered his free ear and listened for background noises that might identify Vahnich’s location. He heard voices, but nothing that suggested the location. Then Larkin came on the line. She sounded fine.
“Joe?”
“I’m coming.”
“I’m okay-”
Pike heard a thump as if the phone had been dropped. Larkin shouted something Pike didn’t understand, then shrieked, but the shriek cut off. Vahnich came back on the line.
“Are you pleased to hear her living? Is this what you wanted?”
Pike hesitated. Keeping his voice level was more difficult this time. He nodded to let Cole and Barkley know she was alive.
“Yes. We only talk if she’s alive.”
“To whom am I speaking?”
“Her bodyguard.”
“Let me speak with her father.”
“You’ll speak only to me. Everything goes through me.”
“No more of this, then. Her father will transfer the money and we can be done. I will give you the account number and access codes.”
“Wait-listen-Kline took your money. He transferred the money out of the country. We don’t know where he is.”
“This is not my problem.”
The front door opened, and Bud burst in. Cole immediately motioned him silent. Bud nodded, but went to the table and began to scratch a note.
Pike watched it all, but stayed with Vahnich.
“The Kings must have told you what happened before you killed them. This was Kline’s deal. Barkley had nothing to do with this.”
“I will tell you something. This money, it is not mine. Dangerous people entrusted it to me, and they look to me for its return. They do not care where it comes from.”
Vahnich had made a mistake. That was the problem with talking, and Vahnich had been talking a lot. He had been trying to persuade, which meant he did not feel he could command. Pitman had been wrong about everything, but Pike had been wrong, too-Vahnich and his hit teams had never been trying to kill the girl; they had been trying to kidnap her so she could be used as leverage. The people who fronted the money wanted it back, and Vahnich was trying to save his own life. His fear could be used to buy Larkin time or manipulate Vahnich into another mistake.
Pike said, “How about if we help you find Kline? We’ll work together.”
Vahnich laughed.
“Of course we would. No, I think that would leave me in a weak position. I think now I am strong.”
Bud turned with his note and held it for Pike to see. SHE CALLED HIM. USED NEIGHBOR PHONE.
The list of call numbers was still on the table. Larkin had found the calls between Vahnich and Kline, and had called him. Pike pointed at her father for Bud to show him the note.
“Why did she call you, Vahnich?”
Pike was sure he already knew.
“She wants to help him, but she helps me instead. These young girls are foolish, are they not?”
Pike was staring at Conner Barkley. Barkley was looking confused.
Vahnich said, “Tell her father. He will not want to lose such a daughter.”
Cole went to the table and also wrote something. MEET HIM.
Pike nodded.
“He loves her, Vahnich. He worships that girl. I think we can work this out-”
Bud’s cell phone chimed, but he turned away fast, cupping his mouth. Pike continued with Vahnich.
“Let’s get together so we can work out the transfer. Tell me where we can meet you.”
Vahnich laughed.
“Will you bring the money in cash? How many trucks will come? Please. He will transfer the money. When the money is safe, I will release her. You and I will never meet, my friend.”
“He’s not stupid, Vahnich. He won’t transfer the money until he has his daughter.”
“Then neither of us will have what we want, and we will both be sad.”
Pike wanted to buy as much time as possible. If Vahnich wouldn’t meet, they would have to find him.
“I’ll talk to him. I have to find him, but I’ll talk to him. He wants her back safe.”
Vahnich said, “Copy these numbers-”
Vahnich began rattling off a string of numbers, but Pike stopped him.
“I don’t know how long it will take to-”
“Copy them and read them back to me.”
Pike copied them, then read them back. They were transfer and account numbers.
Vahnich said, “Good. These numbers you have are correct. He will have the money in this account in two hours or I will cut off her hand-”
Pike said, “Vahnich-”
“No money thirty minutes after that, I cut off her head. We need not speak again.”
The line went dead.
Pike held the phone tight, listening to the silence. Cole and Conner Barkley were watching him. Bud was on his phone in the background, scribbling notes on a pad. Pike finally lowered his phone.
“She’s alive for now, but he won’t meet with us. He knows better than that.”
Barkley said, “What does he want?”
“The hundred twenty million. We have two hours.”
“But I didn’t take it. I didn’t know anything about it.”
Barkley dropped onto the couch and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. His face clenched into a frustrated knot.
“Did she actually call this man? She gave herself to him?”
“She did it for you. She probably thought she could work out some kind of deal or convince him not to kill you.”
Barkley shoved himself from the couch as if taking command of the situation.
“All right, I’ll pay him. I can’t move that amount of funds in two hours,
but I’ll pay him. Get him back on the line.”
“Money isn’t the answer.”
Cole said, “Paying him isn’t smart, Mr. Barkley. As soon as he has the money he’ll kill her.”
“He wants money, I have money-what else can we do?”
“Find him.”
Bud finished his call and rejoined them.
“Got something here-the MS-13 connection might have paid off. The book shows two veteranos named Carlos-one is incarcerated, but the other runs with a clique that’s been bringing in South American dope for years-”
Cole said, “Sounds like our guy.”
“That’s also the bad news. One Carlos Maroto-he’s OG with Mara and lives dead-center in a Mara-controlled neighborhood. Finding him won’t be easy. Getting him to cooperate will be even worse.”
Pike knew Bud was right. With enough time, they could find him, but time was short, and finding a gangbanger in his own barrio would be difficult. Gang membership ran in families and could span entire neighborhoods. No one would cooperate, and word would spread quickly. In a world where pride and family were everything, Latin gangbangers went down hard and would not roll on their friends. Especially not for three Anglo outsiders.
Speed was life.
Pike said, “We need his cooperation.”
“Yeah, that’ll happen.”
“It might if the right person asked.”
Cole’s eyebrows went up when he realized what Pike was thinking.
“Frank Garcia. Frank could make this happen.”
Bud said, “The Frank Garcia?”
Pike checked the time.
“Let’s do it. I’ll call him from the car.”
Cole and Bud headed for the door. Pike started after them, but stopped to look at Barkley.
“I’ll call you when we know.”
Barkley said, “I’m coming with you.”
“Mr. Barkley, this is-”
Barkley turned a deep red.
“She’s my daughter, and I want to be there. This is what fathers do.”
Pike thought Barkley was getting ready to hit him. Pike’s mouth twitched.
He said, “After you, sir.”
Pike followed him out the door.
42
The directions led them to a narrow street on the border between Boyle Heights and City Terrace, not far from the Pomona Freeway in East L.A. Stucco houses with flat roofs lined the street like matching shoe boxes, separated by driveways one car wide; most with yards the size of postage stamps. American cars lined the curbs, bikes and toys had been abandoned in the drives, and more than one yard sported a deflating swimming pool, wilted and lifeless in the nuclear heat.
