Robert Crais - The sentry

"Let me get you to the hospital."

Art turned toward the window.

Pike glanced at Marisol, then walked away. She followed behind him like an angry guard dog, but Pike stopped in the living room and lowered his voice.

"Does he have a fever?"

"I don't know. Why?"

"Check. If he has a fever or starts running hot, call me."

"You're a doctor now?"

"See if there's blood in his urine."

"He's been pissing blood for two days. I see it when I help him to the bathroom."

"Bright red or pink?"

She glanced toward Art's room, worried.

"Pink, I think. It was red, but now not so much. Is that good?"

"Better than red, but not good. Whatever they broke is healing, but he's still in the weeds."

She crossed her arms again, and her eyes hardened.

"I wish I had been here. I found him the next morning, when it was too late."

"They would have hurt you, too."

The black eyes met his.

"You think? Maybe I would have shot them to death."

The eyes moved back to the hall, but lost none of their heat.

"I would have called the police, but he wouldn't let me. Not even the ambulance. Stupid fool, worried about their trust."

"Talk to him, Marisol."

"About what?"

"I want Miguel."

"What do you think, they send Christmas cards? Art doesn't know where he lives. Maybe where he grew up, but Miguel left us years ago. He is an executive now. He's better than us."

Pike sensed something beyond the disdain in her voice, and noticed a discoloration at the corner of her eye. He looked more closely, and saw the skin on her neck mottled from a trip to the laser, not unlike the fading he had seen on Miguel Azzara.

Pike heard the counselor on the roof. Chipping the tile.

"Were you Malevos?"

She stood taller, a neighborhood girl who grew up in the gangs.

"A different set, but Trece. Myself and my brother. He was killed."

Maybe I would have taken a gun and shot them to death.

"Do you know Miguel?"

She glanced away, back down the hall toward Artie.

"Once. Not anymore."

"Do you know where he lives?"

"Once."

"I need to find him. For my friends, and for Art."

She nodded, but it took her a while to speak.

"Maybe. I know girls who know him. They've been to his fancy new house."

She glanced away, and Pike wondered if one of those girls was her.

Marisol made a call, and a few minutes later Pike had an address. He stopped at the door as he was leaving.

"Watch his temperature. If his temperature climbs, I'll bring a doctor whether he wants one or not."

"He doesn't want to pay. He won't say that, but I know. His money pays for Angel Eyes, and there is never enough. He's always behind."

"Don't worry about the money. I'll pay."

"He won't let you."

"He doesn't have to know."

She crossed her arms again, but it was not as angry as before. Pike listened to the counselor on the roof, chipping the tile, trying to make the roof stronger.

Pike decided Miguel Azzara enjoyed looking at himself. He probably struck poses in front of a mirror, thinking he was way hotter than the male models in GQ or all the young actors playing vampires and werewolves. Had to be, because Mikie Azzara had sunk his teeth so deep into Hollywood glam he moved to the Sunset Strip, about as far from his Ghost Town roots as a homeboy could get. Pike wondered what the veteranos thought when they found out, battle-scarred old men who ran La Eme from prison, living and dying the old way in the same neighborhoods for generations. They probably didn't like it much at first, but decided to go along, figuring college-educated young studs like Miguel were the future.

Problem was, when Mikie left Ghost Town, he left the homegirls who had given themselves to his charisma and movie-star looks, and replaced them with UCLA coeds, aspiring actresses, and the razor-thin girls who cruised the Strip's clubs. This left more than a few resentful homegirls behind, including Marisol's cousin and best friend, Annabel Reynoso, who had visited the house several times before Miguel cut her off.

Azzara rented a small single-story contemporary home on a cross street south of Sunset behind a stretch of clubs, bars, restaurants, and apartment buildings. Azzara's house was the first house south of an alley that paralleled Sunset Boulevard, on the south side of a cinder-block wall that separated the alley from the home owners who lived beside it. The wall was matted with trumpet vines, and overhung by a spare row of dying ficus trees that lined Azzara's property behind it.

Azzara's street-like all the other residential streets within walking distance of Sunset-was thick with parked cars and sluggish with drivers who blocked traffic as they maneuvered in and out of parking spots. Pike did not want to risk being jammed up and spotted in front of Azzara's house, so he parked on Sunset two blocks away and approached Azzara's street on foot.

When Pike reached the corner and turned toward the house, he saw two guards, so he casually turned back to the corner. Azzara's house was hidden by the wall, but the Monte Carlo was parked at the curb, and Hector was in the Monte Carlo. A second man loitered in the alley's mouth, leaning against the wall. Dru's silver Tercel was behind the Monte Carlo.

Pike crossed the street with a crowd of pedestrians when the light changed, and walked along Sunset to the next street. He figured to approach Azzara's from the rear, but when he turned toward the alley, he stopped again. Two men sat in a Chevy pickup, parked to face the alley. More guards, covering the back of the house.

Pike returned to the first corner, and studied Azzara's street from a position behind a cigar shop. Pike felt a dull but steady ping as if he was about to be hit by an incoming missile, but neither guard acted as if they had seen him.

The wall killed his view of Azzara's house, and he saw no good way to approach without being recognized. Pike knew he could work closer once it got dark, but he didn't want to wait. The Tercel promised that Dru and Wilson were inside and alive. Pike didn't want to risk losing them.

Pike studied the buildings along Sunset, and noticed that the building immediately above Azzara's house was an older, two-story commercial space with a huge Regency billboard on the roof. The billboard faced Sunset so oncoming drivers saw its ad, but the back of the billboard cast a shadow over Azzara's home.

Sixteen minutes later, Pike climbed a service stair and crawled to the edge of the roof overlooking the alley. The far side of Azzara's roof was visible through the ficus trees, but nothing more.

Pike backed away, and considered the billboard again. Its back was a frame of steel I-beams supported by three enormous legs made of heavy steel pipe. A caged ladder climbed the center leg to a catwalk that extended from one end of the billboard to the other and wrapped around to the front.

Pike climbed to the frame, then edged along the catwalk. He used the billboard for cover until he found the best view, then wedged himself between the I-beams. Pike now saw most of the backyard and the rear of the house, but the yard was all he needed.

Floor-to-ceiling glass doors along the back of the house looked out at the clean lines of a rectangular swimming pool and patio. Dru Rayne lay on a chaise lounge facing the pool, with oversized sunglasses masking her face. A few feet behind her, Wilson Smith stood with Azzara and three other Latin men, one of whom was the cowboy Pike had seen at the body shop. All five men were laughing. Another cowboy was seated by himself on a deck chair on the other side of the patio, and another was inside on a couch in the living room.

Ping.

Pike stiffened with the feeling, but none of the men shouted or ran.