Robert Crais - The First Rule

Jon bellied him out, then lifted his head by the hair so he could see the splashing.

“See that? They’re drowning. If those boys had the proper training, if they were true elite killers, they’d know what to do. That boy who was just in here? Sunglasses? He’d know what to do. Me, you could drop me in there like that, wouldn’t be a problem.”

Jon watched the splashing for a moment, and decided there wasn’t as much now as a few moments ago.

“Only you couldn’t drop me.”

Grebner said, “I told the other one everything I know.”

“I know. I just didn’t want him to have all the fun. You wanna go for a swim?”

“No!”

Jon smiled. Jon wasn’t going to throw him in.

But then Jon stopped smiling.

“You got a message to deliver. I just wanted to make sure you’ll deliver it in a timely fashion. You’ll do that, won’t you?”

“Yes!”

“I thought you might. Now let me ask you a question-does Jakovich have a buyer?”

“I don’t know. Michael say no, but I don’t know.”

“How about Michael? Why’s he hot for so much heavy metal?”

Grebner glanced away, which meant he was thinking. Thinking was bad. Stone snapped a hard right fist into his nose. He punched him again, then a third time.

Grebner snorted out streamers of blood, now spitting the words.

“He has a deal with the Armenians. Way over market price. He can make much. Way over much.”

“How much over much?”

“Three million dollars. He think maybe more.”

Stone dropped Grebner’s head. He admired the distant view for a moment, and thought, briefly, that he should probably drag those two assholes out of the pool, but then decided against it. He patted Grebner’s head.

“You boys truly fucked up this time.”

Jon left the lovely house, broke down and stored his weapon, then resumed his position at the end of the street.

He took out his cell phone, and called a friend of his who often dealt in illegal arms.

“Hey, bruddah-man! What’s the word on those AKs?”

Sitting there, he reminisced about the good times he had with Frank Meyer in foreign lands, and waited for something to happen.

Cole went through the call log on Grebner’s phone, examining both the incoming and outgoing calls, and made notes in a spiral notebook. When he finished, Cole brought up the most recent incoming call number on Grebner’s phone, and held it out. Pike saw a number in the 818 area code.

Cole said, “This is the call you answered when the caller hung up. The incoming number.”

“Darko.”

“I think so. This is the last outgoing call, which is the pager number programmed to Darko’s name.”

Cole showed him a number with a 323 area code, then scrolled back through the outgoing call log.

“The second to last outgoing call went to the same number, which is the call we saw Grebner make before he threw the phone.”

“That’s why I think it was Darko. Grebner paged him, so he was probably answering the page.”

“Uh-huh, so check it out. This particular phone only retains the most recent twenty incoming calls and outgoing calls-”

Cole turned the tablet so Pike could see. Cole had listed the call numbers in two columns, along with the times and dates the calls were made or received. Cole had drawn an X next to almost half of the incoming numbers, indicating the calls were received from blocked numbers. Cole had drawn lines connecting three of the outgoing calls with three incoming calls. He pointed out the outgoing calls.

“Here’s Grebner paging Darko. See the times?”

“Yeah.”

Cole pointed out the corresponding incoming calls.

“Okay, over here he receives an incoming call within twenty minutes of making the page. One of the callbacks was from a restricted number, but two come from the same number as the call you answered up at the house.”

“Different locations?”

“That’s what I’m thinking. But why use a listed number? Twice?”

“No cell service. Nothing else available.”

Cole stared at the call lists for a moment, then picked up his phone.

“Let’s see what we get.”

Cole dialed the number, then listened. He listened for a very long time before he ended the call.

“No answer. I counted twenty rings, but nada. That usually means a phone is unplugged.”

Pike said, “Can you get an address?”

Two calls and twelve minutes later, Cole had an address. The phone number was listed to something called Diamond Reclamations in Lake View Terrace, up in the San Fernando Valley. When Cole lowered his phone, he nodded at Pike.

“It fits. Lake View is in the foothills up by Angeles Crest. Mountains mean bad cell service, so landlines are the way to go.”

Pike said, “Good start. How about I check out Lake View, and you see what you can get from the rest of this?”

Cole pushed the papers back into the grocery bag.

“How about I try to find Rina and Yanni? There are way too many conflicting stories here-”

Cole was still talking when they heard the outside gate, and Pike went to the door. Rina stopped when she saw him, shielding the sun from her eyes with a hand. She was wearing a black T-shirt over the same jeans, the big purse slung over one shoulder, her bag slung over the opposite shoulder.

She said, “What you find?”

“Where’s Yanni?”

She scowled at him for not answering her question, then pushed past him into the guesthouse. She glanced at Cole as she put her bag on the table.

“He work for a living. They don’t give him time off to help find stolen children.”

Cole said, “Where were you?”

She upended her bag, dumping out freshly washed clothes.

“I went to wash. My clothes, they smelled like feet.”

Pike said, “You know Emile Grebner?”

“Of course, I know. He has fucked me many times.”

She said it as matter-of-factly as if she had told them her eyes were blue or her hair black, and refolded her laundry without pausing, as if this statement had no meaning. Pike thought maybe, for her, it had none.

Cole said, “How do you know him?”

“He have the big house in the hills, and would have girls for the parties. This was before Michael, when I was first here, fifteen, sixteen years old, I think. He like only Serbian girls, not American or Russian. He trust the Serb girls, and we speak like back home. That is where Michael first see me, up there. Why you want to know?”

“So you know he’s one of Darko’s authority men-a close associate?”

“I just tell you I know him. Are you not listening?”

Pike said, “Grebner told us the baby’s father is Milos Jakovich, not Darko.”

Pike watched her carefully to read her reaction. A deep frown cut lines between her eyebrows as if she was struggling with the language problem. She glanced at Cole, who was watching her just as carefully, then turned back to Pike.

“You are making this up?”

Cole said, “We’re not making it up. Are you?”

“Fuck you. You and the dog you walked in on.”

She turned back to Pike.

“This is bullshit. I know who the father is and Michael know, too. Grebner, he lies. Why he say this? Where you see him?”

Pike said, “Grebner believes it. Darko and Jakovich are at war over some illegal arms. Rifles. Do you know anything about that?”

“Michael hate the old man, this I know, but I don’t know nothing about this other thing. Why he say Michael not father?”

“Probably because this is what Michael told him. Is Jakovich the f ather?”

“No.”

“Could he think he’s the father?”

She drew herself up and gazed at Cole as if he was the scum of the earth.