Robert Crais - The First Rule

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.”