by Robert Crais
Pike holstered the Python. He was opening the window when something thumped in the hall, and the same man who summoned the chair guard appeared, and saw him.
The man shouted, and was pulling a pistol when Pike crushed his larynx and snapped his neck.
The woman was shouting out the window, and now the baby was screaming, too, its face a vivid red. Pike pulled her backward by the hair, but he didn’t have to fight her for the baby. She shoved it into his arms, and ran, stumbling down the hall. Pike took the baby back to the window, but now three men were running toward them, one of them pointing up at the window.
Pike stepped back and listened. He heard footsteps, voices, and a slam ming door, but nothing on the stairs. This meant they were talking to the woman. They would spend a few minutes trying to figure out who he was and whether he was alone, and then they would come. Men would be outside to cover the window, one team would come up the far stair, and another team would come up the near stair. Then they would fight.
The baby was screaming, tiny legs kicking, miniature fists clenched for battle, tears squeezed from eyes clenched tightly closed.
Pike held up the baby so they were face-to-face.
“Boy.”
The screaming stopped, and the angry blue eyes opened to nasty slits.
The close-quarters fight would be loud and vicious, and it occurred to Pike he had to protect the kid’s ears. He spotted the cotton in the baby supplies, pinched off two bits, and pushed a plug into each of the baby’s ears. The baby fought fiercely and screamed even louder.
“Gonna be loud, boy. Suck it up.”
Pike heard movement in other parts of the building, and knew the fight was approaching. When it came, they would shoot to kill him, which meant he couldn’t stand around with the kid. Pike jerked a blanket from the bassinet, wrapped it around the baby, then pulled a bottom drawer from the desk. He scooped out old files and paper, and placed the baby inside. The baby immediately stopped crying.
“You good?”
The baby blinked.
“Good.”
Pike closed the drawer with the baby inside, and hurried back to the door. Shooters were probably in both stairwells by now, and only seconds from making their move. They would have listened to the blond woman, made some kind of plan, and now felt confident they had Pike trapped. They were wrong. Pike attacked.
Pike crushed the near stairwell door from its jamb like a breaching charge. The two men on the stairs were caught off guard, and did not react quickly enough. Pike shot them in place, single-tapping each man in his center of mass, and immediately heard shouting below in the service bay.
Pike did not continue down because that was what the men below expected. They would cover the bottom door, thinking that Pike was trying to fight his way out. The men at the far end of the second floor would likely advance, believing they could trap Pike on the stairs.
They couldn’t. Pike was already gone.
Pike did not have to think these things through because he already had. He knew the plays even before he tucked the kid in the drawer, ten steps ahead of the curve.
Bang, bang, two down, and Pike blew back up the stairs. He was braced in the doorway and ready when the door at the far end of the hall opened, and two more men charged out. Pike shot the first man, and the other fell back, kicking the door closed, leaving his partner moaning. Pike put three fast rounds into the door to keep it closed, then popped the Python’s wheel and fed it a speed-loader. He didn’t wait, and didn’t check the downed man. He ducked through the baby’s room and swung out the window. The three men seen earlier were gone, drawn inside by the gunshots and shouting.
Pike hit sand, then ran, always moving forward. Speed was everything. The men inside were confused. They didn’t know where he was or how many people they faced, so Pike increased the pressure.
He slipped into the same service bay he entered earlier, only now four men were jammed at the base of the far stairwell, focused on the door. Pike shot the nearest man in the back, moved to cover, and shot a second. The remaining men fired blindly into the walls and ceiling as they fled. Pike heard fading shouts and engines rev.
A short hall led toward the front. Pike worked his way along the hall, hearing more engines, and came to a room filled with standing metal shelves, and an open door. He paused for the first time, but heard only silence, then approached the open door. The gravel parking lot was empty. Darko and his people were gone.
Pike found the front stair and hurried up to the second floor. He stepped over the dead man at the top of the stairs and moved toward the screaming. He worked his way down the hall, clearing each doorway until he was back where he started, then put away his gun and opened the drawer.
The baby looked angry as hell. The little fists swung and the legs pumped, and the red face was slick with tears.
Pike said, “You good?”
He lifted the baby out, and snuggled it to his chest. He took out the cotton plugs. The crying and screaming stopped. The baby settled against him. Pike rubbed its back.
“That’s it, buddy. I got you.”
Pike headed back along the hall to the front stair, then down, and into the parts room. Someone would have called the police, and the police would be rolling.
Pike was only five feet from the door when Rina Markovic came in from the service bay. She was holding her little black pistol, but it was her eyes that gave her away, and he knew she was Jakovich’s killer. They were cold, and dull, like the eyes of fish on ice.
She said, “You find him. Good. There is Petar. Yanni, he have Petar.” Yanni stepped in from the gravel, muttering something in Serbian. Yanni’s gun was stainless steel, and found Pike as if it could see him.
Pike knew his best chance was now, in the opening second, before they got to the killing. And as before, Pike took immediate action.
Pike spun to the left as he went for his gun, shielding the baby with his body. Pike thought he would take at least two bullets in the back before he could return fire, and either the vest would save him or it wouldn’t. If those first two shots didn’t kill or cripple him, he thought he could beat them even if he had to fight wounded.
Pike did not hear the shot when Yanni fired, but the bullet hit his back like a big man throwing a good hook. Pike staggered with the impact, but still managed to draw his weapon, and turned to fire when Jon Stone appeared in the door. Jon forearmed the M4 into Yanni’s head, and the big man dropped as Cole hit the woman from behind, stripped her weapon, then rode her down, his own gun out, eyes crazy and wide.
Cole said, “You all right?”
Pike checked the kid, who was screaming so hard he might have a stroke.
Petar was fine.
“We’re good.”
Stone said, “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
Part Four. Guardian
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 Pi
ke 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 wan
t 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.