The First Rule

38

THEY TIED OFF YANNI and Rina with plasti-cuffs, then dragged them out to the cars, working to clear the area before the police arrived. Pike had the kid, screaming like a banshee, and Rina was screaming, too.

“Is not what you think. Petar is mine. I was trying to save him-”

“Shut up.”

Stone’s Rover was in the parking lot. They shoved Yanni into the rear. Cole pushed Rina into the backseat, and climbed in after her.

Pike said, “Up in the canyon. Angeles Crest. Jon?”

“I know where.”

Cole held out his hands for the boy.

“Here, I’ll take him.”

“I got him.”

“How you going to drive, just you?”

“Go.”

Stone ripped away before the door was closed, throwing up gravel and dust.

Pike ran hard to his Jeep, and saw the oncoming flashers as he pulled into traffic, heading for the mountains, the old guys at Mom’s Basement watching him peel away. Three sheriff’s cars flashed past a quarter mile later, so Pike pulled to the right like everyone else. The kid was scared, and screaming, and Pike felt bad for it. He repositioned the little guy on his shoulder, and patted his back.

“It’s okay, buddy. Gonna be fine.”

They slipped under the Foothill Freeway, and climbed into the Little Tujunga Wash. The road rolled through the bottom of the ravine, and something about the motion settled the boy. He lifted the big head to look around.

Pike drove exactly six-point-two miles up the canyon, then turned onto a gravel road. He knew the distance because he made the drive often, coming up to the middle of nowhere to test-fire weapons he had repaired or built. He followed the gravel another two-point-three miles over a gentle rise, and saw Stone’s Rover parked on the flat crest of the hill. Stone and Cole were already out. Yanni was belly-down on the ground, and Rina was cross-legged beside him, hands still cuffed behind her back.

Pike turned to join the Rover, and the rocky ground crunched beneath his tires. The earth was littered with thousands of cartridge casings. Maybe hundreds of thousands, or millions. Most so old and tarnished, their once gleaming brass was black.

Cole came over as Pike got out with the boy, and painted him with a ragged smile.

“We could be professional babysitters. I hear there’s good money in that.”

“He’s loud.”

The boy arched his back again, and turned to see Cole. Cole wiggled his fingers and made a face like a fish.

“Cute kid.”

The baby broke wind.

Pike glanced at Yanni and Rina, and lowered his voice.

“Is she the mother?”

“None of that was true. They work for Jakovich. I don’t know who his parents are, but she isn’t the mother. Maybe Grebner was telling the truth.”

“Is Darko the father?”

“All I know is she isn’t the mother. Ana told a friend named Lisa Topping that Rina couldn’t have children because she was cut. That’s probably why she was so protective. That’s the only part of Rina’s story that was true.”

Pike watched Rina while Cole described what he knew and how he knew it. Rina had told the truth about Ana and their relationship, and about being a prostitute for Serbian mobsters, but she worked for Jakovich, not Darko. Rina Markovic had lied about damn near everything, and had been good at it, mixing her lies with the truth the way all the best liars do. Pike nodded toward Yanni.

“What about him?”

“Real name is Simo Karadivik, originally from Vitez. That’s Jakovich’s hometown. Yanni there-Karadivik-is one of Jakovich’s enforcers. He shows three arrests back in Vitez, and two under his true name since he arrived in Los Angeles. That’s why nothing popped up when I ran his alias. Janic Pevich doesn’t exist.”

Pike realized he had a long way to go before the kid was safe. Everything he thought he knew was lies, and the only truth seemed to be that Darko and Jakovich hated each other, and were willing to murder a ten-month-old baby to further that hate. Pike sensed this was something he could use, and stroked the baby’s back.

“Is his name really Petar?”

“I don’t know.”

Pike considered Rina and Yanni as he stroked the boy’s back. Her legs were twitching as if a nervous fire burned in her belly. Yanni’s face drooped, making him appear sleepy, but his eyes tocked from Pike to Stone to Cole like gleaming ferrets in twilight caves. They were scared. That was good. Pike wanted them scared.

The boy quivered, and, a moment later, Pike smelled a strong odor.

“He messed himself.”

“How do you know?”

“I felt it. Now I can smell it.”

Pike thought for a moment.

“We need to get some stuff for him. We have to get something for him to eat, too. He’ll get hungry.”

Cole came around and stood in Pike’s line of sight, blocking his view of Rina and Yanni.

“Are you serious? We can’t keep this kid.”

“I’m going to keep him until he’s safe.”

“I know people in Children’s Services. I’ll call someone.”

“When he’s safe.”

Pike rubbed the boy’s back, then held him out to Cole.

“Take him, okay? He’s getting cold. Get whatever he needs, and we’ll hook up back at your place. You can take my Jeep. I’ll ride with Jon.”

Cole glanced at Yanni and Rina, and Pike saw he was worried.

“What are you going to do with them?”

“Use them.”

“For what?”

“To meet Jakovich. I have something he wants.”

Cole considered Pike for a moment, then took the boy. Pike watched them go, not moving until the Jeep disappeared. Pike wanted Cole gone, and now he was, so Pike walked over to his prisoners. He took Yanni’s arm, and Stone pitched in, and they pulled the big man into a seated position. Yanni didn’t make eye contact, but Rina straightened her shoulders.

She said, “You are making mistake. Petar is mine. Why are we tied up like this?”

Pike didn’t say anything. There was no point. He had crossed paths with so many people who did and would do the most heinous atrocities that none of it left much of an impression anymore. Here was this woman, and she would have murdered a child. Here was someone named Jakovich, who had probably ordered her to do it, and Darko, the same. People willing to do this terrible thing.

Pike stretched his back where Yanni shot him. It hurt. He thought the impact had probably cracked a rib.

“Whose baby is it?”

“Is mine!”

“No, not yours.”

“I am saying the truth. What you think is happening here? Why are you acting like this?”

Stone prodded Yanni with the M4.

“Maybe because this asshole shot him.”

“That was a mistake. He got confused.”

Pike looked at Yanni.

“Was shooting me a mistake, Simo?”

Yanni’s eyes fluttered at the mention of his true name.

“I get confused. Who is this Simo?”

“A soldier for Milos Jakovich. From Vitez.”

“This is not me.”

“Ran your prints, Simo. We know.”

Rina’s voice grew.

“I don’t know why you are saying this things. I am the mother-” Pike drew the.357, put it to Yanni’s head, and pulled the trigger. The blast echoed off the surrounding hills like a sonic boom. Rina jerked sideways, and shrieked, but Yanni simply slumped.

Jon Stone said, “Ouch.”

Pike thumbed the hammer, but he did not have to ask Rina again. The words spewed from her like lava.

“No, no, no, no-is not mine, isn’t, but is Milos’s. That is why Darko take him. It is true.”

“You work for Jakovich?”

“Yes!”

“Jakovich is the father?”

“No, no! The grandfather! He is the boy’s grandfather!”

These people lied so much they might not even remember the truth.

“Where’s the boy’s father?”

“He is dead! In Serbia! The boy is here because he has no one else. Even the mother is dead.”

The newest story rattled out, but this time Pike believed her. Milos Jakovich’s actual and only son was a forty-two-year-old man who had been incarcerated in a Serbian prison. Petar had been conceived during a conjugal visit, only to have his mother die in childbirth. Two months later, the boy’s father, Stevan, was murdered in his cell by a Bosnian-Croat who was serving time for the mass murder of sixty-two Bosnian Muslims at the Luka detention camp. This left Petar Jakovich as the old man’s lone remaining male heir, so he had the boy shipped to the U.S.

Rina said, “When Milos find out what Michael going to do, he say we must hide the baby. He give Petar to me and Yanni, and I give him to Ana. Then Michael take, and Milos tell us to find the boy, and show them.”

Show them. Murder his own grandson to show them.

Stone spit in the sand.

“Father of the motherfuckin’ year. You know what? I wanna cap this prick. I want to do him with a goddamned knife.”

Pike thought through what he had, and what he needed. Protect the boy. The man who killed Frank. Three thousand combat weapons. In that order.

“Where is Jakovich? Right now, where is he?”

“On his boat. He have a boat.”

“Where?”

“The marina.”

“You can reach him? Call him?”

“Yes! He is not like Michael. He does not hide.”

Pike jerked her to her feet and cut the plasti-cuffs, freeing her wrists. “Good. We’re going to see him.”

Stone said, “Fuckin’ A.”

Pike shoved her toward the Rover. He now had something that both men wanted, and a plan was coming together.

39

THE LONG DRIVE FROM Angeles Crest to Marina del Rey gave Pike time to find out what Jakovich knew. Rina had told him about Pike, and Pike’s relationship with Frank Meyer, and what Pike was trying to do. Pike decided this was good. Jakovich’s familiarity would make Pike’s play more believable, especially with what Jon Stone had learned about the guns.

“Does he know I tracked Darko to the scrap yard?”

“Yes. I tell him after you leave.”

“Does he know you and Yanni followed me?”

“Yes. He the one tell us to go.”

Which meant Jakovich was wondering what happened, and expecting Rina to call. Considering the amount of time that had passed, he would be thinking something had gone wrong, but this was okay, too.

The condominium towers surrounding the marina grew larger as they approached, then the freeway ended, and they circled the marina past restaurants, yacht dealers, and stunning condo towers built of green glass.

Rina did not know the name of his yacht, but she knew where it was berthed.

Pike said, “Show me.”

“How I going to show you? We out here, it in there. He have to let us in.”

The marina was surrounded by restaurants and hotels open to the public, but the yachts were protected by high fences, electric gates, and security cameras. Pathways existed outside the fence so visitors could admire the boats, but admittance required a key or a combination. Rina directed them to the far side of the marina, and onto a street with yachts on one side and apartment buildings on the other. It was like driving onto a long, narrow island, and when they reached the end of the island, they found a hotel.

She said, “Is behind the hotel. Where they keep the big boats.”

Stone cruised through the hotel’s parking lot until they found a view of the yachts. Rina searched the rows of yachts, and finally pointed.

“That one. The blue. You see it there, on the end? The dark blue.”

Stone scowled when he saw the boat.

“Piece of shit scumbag motherfucker, living in a boat like that. I’d sink that bitch right there. Put it right on the bottom.”

Pike made the boat for an eighty-footer, a fiberglass-and-steel diesel cruiser with a dark blue hull and cream decks. Boats were slipped by size, so this one was berthed with the other long yachts, near the end of the wharf with its bow to the channel. Pike didn’t see anyone on Jakovich’s boat, but he counted seven people moving on the boats nearby. Witnesses were good.

“Take us back to the gate, Jon.”

When they reached the gate, Pike gave Rina her phone. He had already told her what to say and how to say it.

“Remember-you’re alive as long as you help me.”

Rina made the call.

“Is me. I have to speak with him.”

They waited almost three minutes, and then she nodded. The old man had taken the phone.

“No, we did not get him. No, not Michael, either. Pike got the boy. Yes, he has the boy now, but Michael escape. You must listen-”

Pike could hear a male voice on the other side of her conversation. She talked over him to keep going.

“We are here at the gate, Milos. He is here. Pike.”

She glanced at Pike.

“He is sitting here with me. He want to see you.”

She glanced away.

“I cannot. If I say Serbian, he will kill me.”

Another glance.

“Yanni is dead.”

Pike took the phone.

“I shot him. I will do the same thing to Michael Darko, but I need your help to do it.”

The phone was silent for several seconds, but then the male voice spoke.

“Go to the gate. We will buzz you in.”

As Pike got out, Stone said, “Sink that bitch. Put it on the bottom.”

Jon was like that.

Pike was at the gate less than thirty seconds when he heard the lock open. He let himself through, walked down a long ramp to the wharf, then followed the wharf past the row of yachts. The sky was beginning to color, but the afternoon was still bright, and people were out.

Two large men were waiting, one on a lower fantail deck that jutted from the stern, and one a short flight of steps above on an upper deck. They wore Tommy Bahama shirts and carried a lot of fat, but they looked hard, with brooding faces and dark eyes. Pike decided he would be safe as long as he stayed on deck, and in the open. No one would pull a trigger with so many people nearby, and Pike didn’t think either or both men could beat him with their hands.

A balding man who appeared to be in his seventies was seated at a small round table on the upper deck. He had been a big man once, but his skin was beginning to hang like loose fabric. When Pike stopped at the stern, he motioned Pike aboard.

“Come on. Let’s see what you have to say.”

“His accent wasn’t pronounced. Probably because he had been here longer.

Pike went aboard. The big man on the lower deck moved to search him, but Pike pushed his hand away.

“I’m not here to shoot. If I wanted to shoot, we wouldn’t have warned you.”

The big man glanced up, and the older man waved again.

“Come on. It’s fine.”

Pike climbed to the upper deck, but did not join Milos Jakovich at the table, and wasn’t invited. A salon behind the old man was visible through sliding glass doors. A young woman was inside watching television. Naked.

Jakovich said, “Okay. So here we are. What is this business with Michael Darko, and why would I help you?”

Pike said, “Three thousand Kalashnikovs.”

Jakovich tapped the table. His finger was the only part of him that moved. Tap tap tap. He shook his head.

“I don’t know what you are talking about, these guns. Is this a joke?”

He was concerned that Pike was wired. Pike raised his hands to the side, holding them out.

“We have to speak plainly. Have your boy search me.”

Jakovich considered it for several seconds, then came around the table and stood very close. He searched Pike himself.

Pike said, “One on my right hip, and another on my left ankle. You can touch them, but if you try to pull either one, I’ll kill you with it.”

Jakovich leaned even closer. He smelled of cigars.

“You got some balls, saying that on my boat.”

Staying close, Jakovich moved his hands over and under Pike’s clothes. He felt under Pike’s arms, down the trough of Pike’s spine, and into Pike’s pants. His search was thorough. He felt Pike’s genitals, and Pike didn’t react. He worked his way down Pike’s legs, inspected Pike’s shoes, then returned to the table.

He said, “Okay, we will speak plainly.”

“Do you know why I’m going to kill Michael Darko?”

“Your friend.”

“Yes. My friend and I were military contractors. Do you understand? Professional soldiers.”

“I know this. The girl, she tells me.”

“Did my friend help you buy the guns?”

The question Pike had been waiting to ask.

“I knew nothing about this man. Rina’s sister, she worked for him. That is what I knew.”

“Was he helping you sell them?”

“No. I just tell you, no. I didn’t know anything about these people. Not even their names.”

Pike did not show his relief. Frank was clear. Always had been, and would be.

“I didn’t think so. If he was helping you, you would have had a buyer.”

Jakovich tried to act offended.

“I have many buyers.”

“If you had a buyer, the guns would be gone, and Darko would have no play to jam you. You need a buyer, but you don’t know anything about the arms market. I want to buy them, and I can eliminate Darko. I can kill him for you, or I can give him to you, let you make an example of him, whatever you like.”

Milos Jakovich cleared his throat. He rubbed at his eye, then cleared his throat again.

“This isn’t what I expected.”

“No. I probably know more about the guns than you. They were stolen by Indonesian pirates from a container ship bound for Pyongyang from Kowloon. They’re new, fully automatic weapons, still in their wrappers, but they won’t be easy to sell because of how they came to the market.”

Jakovich looked irritated.

“How do you know these things?”

“You’re an amateur at this. I’m a professional. The North Koreans still want the guns, but won’t pay for them-they would consider that a ransom. The Chinese want them back, but they’re going to kill the people who stole them, and they’ve let out word that they will view anyone who buys them as an accomplice to the crime. You don’t want the Chinese coming here to the marina.”

Jakovich pooched out his lips, probably imagining a Chinese invasion.

Pike said, “I want to buy them. If you agree, I’ll throw in Darko and your grandson as an incentive.”

“What kind of money are we talking about?”

“Three thousand rifles, five hundred per, that’s one-point-five million, but only if they’re fully automatic and free of rust and corrosion. I will check each weapon-not three or four, but all three thousand. If they’re missing bolts or receivers, I’ll still buy them, but at a reduced price.”

Pike never once looked away, and made his offer as businesslike as he could.

“That isn’t enough.”

“It’s more than you’ll get. And with me, you’ll get Darko.”

Jakovich wet his lips again, and Pike could see he was thinking. He was convinced Pike knew what he was talking about, but afraid. Pike’s offer had surprised him, but he was desperate enough to consider it.

“You have the cash?”

“I can have it by this time tomorrow. I will show you half the money up front. You’ll get the other half at the time I take delivery.”

Jakovich crossed his arms, resisting, but trying to talk himself into it.

“And how will you give me Michael?”

“He wants the rifles, too. If you make a deal with me, I’ll bring Darko when I pick up the guns. I will need one of the rifles to convince him, but I won’t tell him your people are waiting. Then he’s yours, and your problems are over.”

Jakovich slowly decided.

“Give me your phone number. I will let you know sometime tomorrow.”

“Don’t wait too late in the day. I can only get the cash during business hours.”

Pike left his cell number, then walked off the boat without looking back. He let himself through the gate and climbed back into the Rover.

Stone looked disappointed.

“I didn’t hear anything blow up.”

Pike made no comment for a moment, still thinking about Jakovich and how his plan was developing. One of the first rules of combat was that all battle plans change, and the winner was usually the guy who forced the changes.

Pike said, “Can you put your hands on a Chinese AK? New, still in the wraps?”

“Like the ones we’re talking about? Sure. Plenty of AKs around.”

“Has to be Chinese. Not a sporterized gun. A battle rifle.”

Stone shrugged.

“I know a guy who knows a guy.”

“Call him. Let’s go see Grebner.”

Stone made the call while he drove.

40

THERE WAS ONLY ONE guard this time, a short, muscular man who answered Grebner’s door with a scowl, and never had time to speak. Pike shut off his air, disarmed him, and marched him through the house. Emile Grebner was on the toilet when Pike found him. Pike made the guard lie on his belly, and told Grebner to stay on the can. It was hard to move quickly with your pants around your ankles.

Pike said, “Call Darko. I have the boy now, and that changes things.”

“How you mean changes?”

“I can get Milos Jakovich, and that means I can get his rifles. I will sell Jakovich to Darko for one third of the guns-two thousand rifles for him, one thousand for me.”

“You will sell him? What are you talking about?”

“It means if Darko and I can put our disagreement behind us, Darko can get rid of his competition. I wrote my phone number on the floor in your living room. Tell Darko to call.”

“These rifles, you have them?”

“Tell Darko to call. If he doesn’t call, Jakovich will sell them to someone else, and he can kiss his Armenian deal good-bye.”

Pike walked out of the house, and filled Stone in as they headed for Cole’s. The Jeep and Cole’s Corvette were side-by-side in the carport. They parked across the drive, blocking both cars, and Pike let them in through the kitchen. Stone hung on to Rina like she might try to run.

Cole had the boy in his arms, watching the Lakers. Cole was set up nicely by the time they arrived. Food for the boy. Pampers and lotions, and a baby-sized spoon set. Pike saw the stuff in the kitchen as they entered.

Cole stood as they entered and arched his eyebrows because he expected to see four people, and Yanni was missing.

“I shot him.”

Rina said, “I have to go to the bathroom.”

“Jon.”

Stone took her to the bathroom. He went in with her, and left the door open. She didn’t complain.

Cole came over with the boy. The little kid swiveled the big head around, saw Pike, and smiled. He flapped his hands. Excited.

Cole said, “He wants you.”

Pike took the boy, and propped him on his chest.

Cole lowered his voice so Rina wouldn’t hear.

“What happened?”

Pike explained what he now believed to be the truth, and described the play he was making on Jakovich and Darko.

“I’ll have to call Walsh. They’ll find Yanni’s car up in Lake View, so they’ll know he was at the scene. When the IDs come back on the stiffs at the scrap yard, and everyone shows a gang-set connection, the police will be all over it. I’m going to need her cover, and her cooperation pulling this off.”

“I don’t think she signed on for a war.”

“She signed on for three thousand combat rigs. She’s going to get them, and she’ll get the man who killed her agent.”

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. birth 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.

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, 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, pushing 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.

“We’re done. You got him.”

Pike followed his friend out of the brush.