Robert Crais - The First Rule

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.”

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 Pike 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.”