The First Rule

by Robert Crais

  Stone said things like that.

  Pike wondered if Darko was holed up with Grebner. Pike thought this unlikely, but knew it was possible. There might be only one or two men inside, but there could be a dozen, or a family with children.

  Cole said, “So what are we going to do?”

  “Take a look. Me and you. Jon, you’re outta here. Let us know if some one comes.”

  As Cole and Pike slipped out, Stone said, “Want the M4? It’s ideal for urban assault.”

  Cole frowned at Stone.

  “You have an M4?”

  “Shit, yeah, man. Suppressed. Frangible bullets so you don’t kill a buncha people in the next house. Straight from the Delta Armory.”

  Cole looked at Pike.

  “Is he kidding?”

  “Let’s go.”

  Pike jogged away, and Cole fell in behind him. They slowed as they neared the house, then lingered at the nearest side gate to let a car pass. Neither spoke, and neither needed to. Pike had been on missions as long as a week, and never uttered a word.

  Pike went over first. He landed softly, then slipped along the side of the house without waiting. When he reached the corner, Cole was at his shoulder.

  The backyard was small, but designed for sophisticated entertaining, with an outdoor bar, cabana seating around an elevated fire pit, and an infinity pool that stretched into space. The view past the pool encompassed the entire Los Angeles basin from downtown to the Pacific, and south all the way to Long Beach. The waterline at the edge of the pool seemed to simply stop, hanging at the edge of the sky. Views like this were why they called the development Mount Olympus.

  Pike heard the steady drone of faraway voices, and realized he was hearing the television. ESPN, someone going on about the Lakers.

  Cole touched Pike’s shoulder, and pointed. The service walk ran behind the bar to an area walled off for the pool equipment. Cole touched his shoulder again, then pointed at his own eyes, telling Pike the pool equipment would be a good vantage point.

  Pike slipped past the bar to the pool, and squeezed in behind the pool equipment. Cole joined him a moment later.

  The entire back of Emile Grebner’s house was open. Floor-to-ceiling glass sliders had been pushed into pockets, erasing the line between inside and out, and opening the house to air and light. Two younger men and a shorter, bulky man in his fifties were in the living room, but none of them were Michael Darko. The older man wore only baggy sweatpants cut at the knee, exposing a chest and back matted with gray hair. He was doing all the talking, so Pike decided he was Grebner. Grebner was angry, and making a big production of waving his hands.

  One of the younger men made the mistake of speaking, and Grebner slapped him. The slap almost knocked him down, and the younger man scurried away. He came outside, where he lit a cigarette, and leaned against the bar. Sullen.

  Grebner finally ran out of gas. He picked up a phone to make a call, and the other young man hurried into the kitchen. Grebner threw down the phone, then stalked into a bathroom off the living room. He slammed the door.

  When the door slammed, the man at the bar held up his middle finger. Pike touched Cole, then pointed at the man in the kitchen—that man is yours. He touched himself, then pointed at the man by the bar—that one is mine.

  Cole nodded, Pike returned his nod, and both moved without hesitation, Pike moving first to clear a path for Cole.

  Pike slipped up behind the man at the bar, hooked his left arm around the man’s neck, and lifted.

  Pike said, “Sh.”

  A shape flickered at the edge of Pike’s peripheral vision as Cole passed, but Pike was focused on his target. The man struggled, but Pike lifted him higher, compressing the carotid artery to cut off the blood to his brain, and in a few seconds the man went to sleep. Pike laid him behind the bar, and bound his hands behind his back with a plasti-cuff.

  Pike glimpsed Cole putting the other man down as he moved for the living room. He reached the bathroom and placed himself behind the door only a second before it opened, and Grebner stepped out.

  Pike slapped him behind the right ear with the .357, and Grebner pitched forward. He hit the terrazzo hard on his hip, but didn’t go all the way down, crabbing away on his ass until he bumped into the wall. Pike hadn’t wanted him out. Pike wanted him awake.

  Cole stepped out of the kitchen, glancing at Grebner but otherwise ignoring him.

  “I’ll clear the house.”

  Cole disappeared, leaving Grebner to Pike. You never knew—someone could be hiding in a closet.

  Pike looked at Grebner. Grebner’s eyes went to the Python, to Pike’s arms, to Pike.

  “Who the fuck are you?”

  Pike opened his phone.

  “ We’re good.”

  Stone said, “I’m here if you need me, cocked and locked, brother man.”

  Pike returned the phone to his pocket.

  Grebner said, “I’m talkin’ to you, you better stop this.”

  Pike could see he was scared, which was good. Outside, Cole dragged the man behind the bar out into the open. He tied the man’s ankles, then headed toward the kitchen.

  Grebner shook his head.

  “You got no idea, I am telling you. No idea what kind of hell you have unleashed.”

  Pike said, “Stand up.”

  Grebner shuffled warily to his feet. Pike turned him around, tied off his hands, then pushed him back to the floor. Grebner squinted at Pike, trying to read him, but saw only the mirrored surface of Pike’s sunglasses—blue bug eyes in an expressionless face. Pike knew Grebner would find this unnerving. Like Walsh when she had him at Parker Center, he was psyching the edge.

  “Where’s Darko?”

  “Kiss my ass.”

  Pike hit him again. The barrel of the .357 caught him high on the temple and split the skin.

  “Darko?”

  Grebner made a low growling sound, and shook his head, spreading blood over his face.

  “I know you want Darko. You been telling everyone you want Darko. Here, you can call him—”

  Grebner tipped his head toward the couch.

  “Get the phone. You see the phone there on the couch? Get it. Scroll for Michael. Call him.”

  Pike saw the phone. He picked it up, then scrolled through the directory until he found the name.

  Grebner said, “Go ahead. You see the number there? Write it down, you want. Call him.”

  Outside, Cole dragged the man from the kitchen next to his friend. Both men were now awake, and bound hand and foot. Cole hurried away to another part of the house, his gun out and ready.

  Pike called the number, and reached a female computer voice.

  “Enter your callback number at the tone, followed by the pound sign.”

  A paging system. Pike hung up when the tone sounded, and brought up the phone’s call list. The call list revealed the same number had been dialed a few minutes earlier, which would have been the call Grebner placed before he went to the bathroom. Grebner was telling the truth.

  Pike slipped the phone into his pocket, then went back to Grebner.

  “Where is he?”

  Grebner glanced at the pocket.

  “There. This is where Michael is. You page him, and he calls. He lives there in the phone. He’s in your pocket.”

  Pike holstered the .357, then squatted so he and Grebner were only a few inches apart.

  Pike said, “This will hurt.”

  Pike dug the point of his thumb behind Grebner’s right collarbone, probing for a bundle of nerves. He found it, and pinched the bundle into the bone. Grebner flinched, and tightened against the wall. Pike pinched harder, crushing the bundle. Grebner’s entire body stiffened like a drawn bow, and he made the low growl again, straining to stand up to the pain.

  Pike let go.

  “It will hurt worse the next time.”

  Grebner sucked deep breaths, and shook his head to gather himself. A spray of fine blood speckled the wall.

 
“I know you want Darko, but what are you doing here, man? You want some money? I can give you money.”

  Pike dug at the nerve again, and this time Grebner screamed. His face went bloodred to purple, and he kicked spastically, but Pike held him down. And then released the pressure.

  “Not money. Darko.”

  Grebner sobbed, still shaking his head.

  “I do not know. I call him. I call the number. That is all I know. He tells no one his whereabouts for this very reason. You can beat me all you like, but I cannot say. You are not the first who wants to find him.”

  “Jakovich?”

  Grebner’s eyes narrowed as if Pike had finally surprised him. He glanced at his men and then toward the front door, almost as if he couldn’t believe he was in this position and if he only pretended hard enough Pike would go away.

  “You got no idea what you are saying.”

  “How about if I say, ‘Kalashnikov’?”

  Grebner slowly opened his mouth, staring as if Pike were mystical.

  “How can you know these things?”

  “Are the rifles in Los Angeles?”

  Grebner did not answer. He was still trying to figure out how Pike knew.

  Pike reached for his shoulder, and Grebner jerked.

  “Yes! Yes, this is what I hear. I don’t know this—I don’t see them—but this is what I am told.”

  As Grebner answered, Cole reappeared, now carrying a grocery bag tucked under his arm. He motioned Pike over, and spoke so Grebner couldn’t hear.

  “The guns are here?”

  “That’s what he says.”

  “How about Darko? He have a location?”

  “He has a pager number. That’s it.”

  Cole patted the bag.

  “I scooped some billing records and files, but it’s lame. I don’t know if this will help.”

  Pike and Cole returned to Grebner, who was watching them like a cornered rat would watch circling dogs.

  Pike said, “Where are the guns?”

  “How would I know? The old one. He has them.”

  “Jakovich.”

  “You do this for the guns? You want to steal them, buy them, what? Who are you working for?”

  “Frank Meyer.”

  “I don’t know a Frank Meyer. Who’s that?”

  “Darko sent a crew to a house in Westwood almost a week ago. Do you know about that?”

  “Of course, I know. This was Frank Meyer’s house?”

  “Frank, his wife Cindy, their two little boys. Darko’s crew murdered them after his son was snatched.”

  Now Grebner’s eyes narrowed again.

  “Michael’s son?”

  Pike nodded, but this seemed to confuse Grebner even more.

  “Michael has no children. This was the old man’s child he took.”

  Cole and Pike shared a glance, then Cole took the picture of Rina’s son from his pocket and held it out. The baby with the wispy red hair.

  “Peter. Petar. Is this the kid you’re talking about?”

  “I have not seen the child. All I know is what Michael tell me.”

  “Which is what?”

  “Michael took the child to get the guns. He thinks he can force the old man to make a deal, but the old man is crazy like these old fucks back home. He went insane.”

  “So now they’re at war.”

  Grebner laughed.

  “You would have to be Serbian to understand. This is beyond war. The old man, he tells Michael he will kill the child himself. The old one will kill his own child to show he has no weakness, and cannot be threatened, and he will kill Michael. Do you understand what I am telling you? This whole mess has blown up in Michael’s face.”

  Cole said, “Jakovich’s child? Not Michael’s.”

  “Yes.”

  “Who’s the mother?”

  “Who can say? I don’t know these people.”

  “How many children does Michael have?”

  “Some? Many? None? You think we go on picnics? I never see Michael with anyone but whores.”

  The phone in Pike’s pocket rang with a high-pitched jangle that made Grebner jump. Grebner’s phone.

  Pike glanced at the incoming number, but it was only a number and meant nothing. Pike answered, but said nothing. The person on the other side was silent. Pike heard breathing, then the person hung up.

  Pike slipped the phone into his pocket, and saw that Grebner was smiling, his teeth filmed with blood.

  Grebner said, “This will be Michael, yes?”

  “Probably.”

  “I am sorry for your friend, Frank Meyer, but he should not have involved himself in our affairs. Neither should you. We are terrible enemies.”

  Pike studied him for a moment, then glanced at Cole, whose eyes were wide, the eyes saying, What in hell just happened here?

  Pike said, “We’re done. I’ll be right behind you.”

  Cole headed for the front door, and Pike turned back to Grebner. When Cole was gone, Pike drew the .357 and thumbed back the hammer. The locking steel spring was a breaking bone in the quiet house. Grebner, eyebrows lurching, wet his lips and breathed faster.

  Pike touched the muzzle to Grebner’s head. Grebner clenched his eyes, then opened them, wide and glistening, dancing like moths trying to escape a glass.

  Pike said, “Where did Jakovich get the guns?”

  “I got no idea. I don’t know.”

  “Was Frank involved?”

  “What? Who?”

  Grebner was so scared he had already lost the name.

  “The man who owned the house. Frank Meyer. Was he involved in the deal for the guns?”

  “I don’t know. How could I know?”

  “What did Darko tell you?”

  “He said nothing about this Frank Meyer. He told me he knew where the old man had his son. That’s all he said.”

  Pike pressed the muzzle into Grebner’s head. It would leave a perfect, circular mark.

  “Did he tell you why the child was with the Meyers?”

  “No, just he was going to get the old man’s boy. That is what he say.”

  “Darko went with the crew to the Westwood house?”

  “That’s what he say. To make sure they not fuck it up. Please—” Pike looked out over the white terrazzo floor and the fine white furniture and beyond the two trussed men with their frightened, watching eyes, to the infinite, hazy sky. Knowing was good.

  “Deliver a message.”

  Grebner opened his eyes. He had expected Pike to kill him.

  “Tell Michael nothing he does or can do will stop me.”

  Grebner slowly nodded, staring into Pike’s invisible eyes.

  “I think maybe you are a terrible enemy, too.”

  Pike holstered his gun and left.

  31

  PIKE FLAGGED JON TO pick them up, Cole tugging his arm as soon as they were out of the house.

  “Refresh my memory. Whose kid is this we’ve been trying to find?”

  “Your memory’s fine. She said Darko is the father.”

  “Only Darko tells this guy that Jakovich is the father.”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t get it. Everything she told us checked out when I spoke with Ana’s friend.”

  In the car, Pike explained about Grebner as they drove down the hill, and asked Jon to stay at the scene to follow Grebner in case he left for a face-to-face with Darko. Stone told him it would be no problem, then had a few questions.

  Stone said, “This guy Grebner, was he in on killing Frank?”

  “No. Says he knew about it, but it was Darko’s play.”

  “So he didn’t know if Frank was involved?”

  Pike realized Stone was staring at him, and realized why.

  “He doesn’t know if Frank had anything to do with the guns or not. He doesn’t think so, but he doesn’t know.”

  Cole said, “The guns are in Los Angeles, and Jakovich has them. Way these people keep secrets, Darko may not even kno
w how he got them. He just wants them.”

  Stone didn’t say any more. They drove the rest of the way down in silence, but Stone was likely thinking much the same things as Pike. The field of fire was growing confused. Rina hid her baby with her sister to keep him from Michael, or Jakovich hid his child with Ana or Frank for the same reason, which meant Jakovich had a relationship with Rina’s sister or with Frank. Frank and his family were either innocent collateral damage, or Frank was somehow involved with Jakovich in the acquisition of three thousand automatic weapons. Pike thought about these things, but didn’t try to get his head around everything at once. Pike knew how to remain calm during the chaos of combat. He had been trained for it, and had survived withering fire in overwhelming combat situations dozens of times. He had learned to keep his head by thinking about one thing at a time. Access the situation, plan a single action, then commit yourself to that action. A war is won one maneuver at a time.

  Pike said, “Let’s talk to Rina again.”

  They took their own vehicles to the guesthouse while Jon Stone returned to Grebner’s. The drive to the guesthouse at the far end of the Sunset Strip took only minutes, and then they cruised along the narrow, sun-dappled street to the rental property. Yanni’s truck was gone, and Pike immediately sensed they would find the house empty.

  Pike waited for Cole at the gate, then eased along the stubby drive past the front home into the tiny courtyard. All of it vibed deserted and creepy, and when Pike glanced at Cole again, saw that Cole had his gun out, dangling along his leg.

  Pike tried the knob, found it unlocked, and went in with Cole behind him. The little guesthouse was cool and pleasant, and smelled of the vining roses.

  The single studio was empty. The bathroom door was open, but the light within it out. Pike called anyway.

  “Rina?”

  “They’re gone. Look. Their things are gone.”

  Cole set the bag on the dinette table.

  “I’ll see if this stuff gives us anything.”

  Cole dumped the contents of the bag, then began organizing a jumble of phones, wallets, and papers.

  Pike phoned Walsh as Cole worked, putting the phone on speaker so Cole could hear. When Walsh realized the call was from Pike, she seemed distant and wary.

  “Where are you?”

  “Doing what I told you I’d do.”