The First Rule jp-2

by Robert Crais

  “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 Cafe. 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 over
sized 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, you 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.

  Cole said, “This is a clusterfuck.”

  “Here comes Walsh.”

  An SRT wagon appeared at the far turn, followed by several unmarked cars.

  Pike turned to look for Jakovich just as two men ran into the building. The first man was Michael Darko. He stopped just inside the door, saw Jakovich, and shot him. He ran closer, and shot him twice more. He shouted something in Serbian, and shot Jakovich a fourth time. Then he saw Pike, and Michael Darko gave a big smile.

  “We got this bastard. You had a good plan.”

  He would have stood over Frank Meyer exactly like that. Pike saw him shooting Frank in exactly the same way.

  Pike raised his gun, and shot the man who had run in with Darko. Darko stood slack-jawed for a moment, as if he didn’t understand, then lifted his gun and fired.

  Pike pushed Cole out, and followed, ducking behind the big door as the SRT teams identified themselves over their P.A. systems and demanded that everyone surrender. Two or three might have surrendered, but the gunfire continued.

  Cole said, “He’s out the side door. He’s running.”

  Darko.

  Pike ran hard along the front of the building through the chaos of the fight. The SRT operators and arriving ATF agents were spreading along a perimeter, taking men into custody.

  Pike ran past them.

  He reached the corner of the building, and saw Darko halfway down its length, far beyond the action. Pike started after him. Darko suddenly turned toward the street. He saw Pike following, and popped off two shots, but Pike didn’t slow.

  Darko ran across the street, jumped high onto the chain-link fence, and clawed his way over. He dropped into the sandy brush, staggered to his feet, and fired three more shots. One of his bullets sparked off the tarmac at Pike’s feet, but Pike kept running.

  He heard Kelly Walsh shouting behind him.

  “Stop it, Pike! You stop! He’s mine!”

  Pike ignored her.

  He hit the fence at a hard run, and crashed down into dead scrub that tore into his skin. Pike couldn’t see Darko or hear him, so he traced the fence until he found the spot where Darko climbed over. The signs were easy to follow, even as Hurwitz’s voice echoed over the P.A.

  “Stand down, Pike. We are moving into the area. We’ll get him. Now stand down.”

  Pike picked up his pace.

  The footprints and trail scuffs led up a low rise, then down into a depression overgrown with chaparral and sage. Pike pushed through the hard scrub, so thick and dense he was unable to see anything except the ground at his feet.

  The chaparral thinned as the ground rose, and tabled out into a small clearing. Darko’s footprints continued across. Pike paused to scan the far side of the rise for movement. Ballona Creek was visible about three hundred yards ahead. It was a wide creek with concrete walls, and a current that pushed to the sea. They were very close to the ocean. If Darko made it to the creek, there was a good chance he could escape.

  Pike set off across the clearing, push
ing even faster.

  Pike was less than halfway across when Michael Darko exploded from a ball of chaparral, and crashed into him. He had circled back to wait in the brush, and had done a good job of it.

  Darko was a heavy man, and strong, but Pike spun with the contact and pushed him past. Darko staggered sideways, then caught his balance. He was winded and out of shape, and breathing hard to show it. He wasn’t holding a gun. Dropped it, fighting his way through the brush.

  Pike said, “No gun?”

  Darko stared at Pike’s gun, still sucking wind like a bellows.

  Pike tossed the pistol to the ground at Darko’s feet.

  “How about now?”

  Darko dropped for the gun. His hand was on the grip when Pike hit him with a roundhouse kick that snapped his humerus like a wet stick. He made a deep grunt, then Pike caught him from the other side on the outside of his knee, and swept his legs from under him. Darko landed on his side, then rolled onto his back.

  The pistol was next to him, but Darko made no move for it.

  Pike was staring at him when the brush moved, and Elvis Cole stepped out. Cole took in the scene, then moved a little closer.

  “You got him. We’re done here, Joe.”

  Pike picked up the gun. He held it with a relaxed grip and jiggled it, still looking at Darko.

  Cole said, “You good?”

  Pike didn’t know if he was good or not. He thought maybe he was, but wasn’t sure.

  Cole said, “It’s over.”

  More crashing came up the hill, then Walsh burst into the clearing. She had her service piece, and immediately beaded up on Pike.

  “Put it down! Move away from him and put it down, Pike. Do it!”

  Pike jiggled the gun again.

  Cole slowly stepped between them, putting himself in front of her gun.

  “Take it easy, Walsh. We’re cool.”

  She angled sideways to see her target.

  “He’s mine, goddamnit! You step away from there, Pike! That bastard is mine!”

  Pike tossed the little pistol toward her. It landed in the sand.

  Pike glanced down at Darko again, but saw Frank and Cindy. Frank, Cindy, and their two little boys.

  Cole stepped up beside him, and put a hand on Pike’s shoulder.