Robert Crais - The First Rule

She glanced away.

“I cannot. If I say Serbian, he will kill me.”

Another glance.

“Yanni is dead.”

Pike took the phone.

“I shot him. I will do the same thing to Michael Darko, but I need your help to do it.”

The phone was silent for several seconds, but then the male voice spoke.

“Go to the gate. We will buzz you in.”

As Pike got out, Stone said, “Sink that bitch. Put it on the bottom.”

Jon was like that.

Pike was at the gate less than thirty seconds when he heard the lock open. He let himself through, walked down a long ramp to the wharf, then followed the wharf past the row of yachts. The sky was beginning to color, but the afternoon was still bright, and people were out.

Two large men were waiting, one on a lower fantail deck that jutted from the stern, and one a short flight of steps above on an upper deck. They wore Tommy Bahama shirts and carried a lot of fat, but they looked hard, with brooding faces and dark eyes. Pike decided he would be safe as long as he stayed on deck, and in the open. No one would pull a trigger with so many people nearby, and Pike didn’t think either or both men could beat him with their hands.

A balding man who appeared to be in his seventies was seated at a small round table on the upper deck. He had been a big man once, but his skin was beginning to hang like loose fabric. When Pike stopped at the stern, he motioned Pike aboard.

“Come on. Let’s see what you have to say.”

“His accent wasn’t pronounced. Probably because he had been here longer.

Pike went aboard. The big man on the lower deck moved to search him, but Pike pushed his hand away.

“I’m not here to shoot. If I wanted to shoot, we wouldn’t have warned you.”

The big man glanced up, and the older man waved again.

“Come on. It’s fine.”

Pike climbed to the upper deck, but did not join Milos Jakovich at the table, and wasn’t invited. A salon behind the old man was visible through sliding glass doors. A young woman was inside watching television. Naked.

Jakovich said, “Okay. So here we are. What is this business with Michael Darko, and why would I help you?”

Pike said, “Three thousand Kalashnikovs.”

Jakovich tapped the table. His finger was the only part of him that moved. Tap tap tap. He shook his head.

“I don’t know what you are talking about, these guns. Is this a joke?”

He was concerned that Pike was wired. Pike raised his hands to the side, holding them out.

“We have to speak plainly. Have your boy search me.”

Jakovich considered it for several seconds, then came around the table and stood very close. He searched Pike himself.

Pike said, “One on my right hip, and another on my left ankle. You can touch them, but if you try to pull either one, I’ll kill you with it.”

Jakovich leaned even closer. He smelled of cigars.

“You got some balls, saying that on my boat.”

Staying close, Jakovich moved his hands over and under Pike’s clothes. He felt under Pike’s arms, down the trough of Pike’s spine, and into Pike’s pants. His search was thorough. He felt Pike’s genitals, and Pike didn’t react. He worked his way down Pike’s legs, inspected Pike’s shoes, then returned to the table.

He said, “Okay, we will speak plainly.”

“Do you know why I’m going to kill Michael Darko?”

“Your friend.”

“Yes. My friend and I were military contractors. Do you understand? Professional soldiers.”

“I know this. The girl, she tells me.”

“Did my friend help you buy the guns?”

The question Pike had been waiting to ask.

“I knew nothing about this man. Rina’s sister, she worked for him. That is what I knew.”

“Was he helping you sell them?”

“No. I just tell you, no. I didn’t know anything about these people. Not even their names.”

Pike did not show his relief. Frank was clear. Always had been, and would be.

“I didn’t think so. If he was helping you, you would have had a buyer.”

Jakovich tried to act offended.

“I have many buyers.”

“If you had a buyer, the guns would be gone, and Darko would have no play to jam you. You need a buyer, but you don’t know anything about the arms market. I want to buy them, and I can eliminate Darko. I can kill him for you, or I can give him to you, let you make an example of him, whatever you like.”

Milos Jakovich cleared his throat. He rubbed at his eye, then cleared his throat again.

“This isn’t what I expected.”

“No. I probably know more about the guns than you. They were stolen by Indonesian pirates from a container ship bound for Pyongyang from Kowloon. They’re new, fully automatic weapons, still in their wrappers, but they won’t be easy to sell because of how they came to the market.”

Jakovich looked irritated.

“How do you know these things?”

“You’re an amateur at this. I’m a professional. The North Koreans still want the guns, but won’t pay for them-they would consider that a ransom. The Chinese want them back, but they’re going to kill the people who stole them, and they’ve let out word that they will view anyone who buys them as an accomplice to the crime. You don’t want the Chinese coming here to the marina.”

Jakovich pooched out his lips, probably imagining a Chinese invasion.

Pike said, “I want to buy them. If you agree, I’ll throw in Darko and your grandson as an incentive.”

“What kind of money are we talking about?”

“Three thousand rifles, five hundred per, that’s one-point-five million, but only if they’re fully automatic and free of rust and corrosion. I will check each weapon-not three or four, but all three thousand. If they’re missing bolts or receivers, I’ll still buy them, but at a reduced price.”

Pike never once looked away, and made his offer as businesslike as he could.

“That isn’t enough.”

“It’s more than you’ll get. And with me, you’ll get Darko.”

Jakovich wet his lips again, and Pike could see he was thinking. He was convinced Pike knew what he was talking about, but afraid. Pike’s offer had surprised him, but he was desperate enough to consider it.

“You have the cash?”

“I can have it by this time tomorrow. I will show you half the money up front. You’ll get the other half at the time I take delivery.”

Jakovich crossed his arms, resisting, but trying to talk himself into it.

“And how will you give me Michael?”

“He wants the rifles, too. If you make a deal with me, I’ll bring Darko when I pick up the guns. I will need one of the rifles to convince him, but I won’t tell him your people are waiting. Then he’s yours, and your problems are over.”

Jakovich slowly decided.

“Give me your phone number. I will let you know sometime tomorrow.”

“Don’t wait too late in the day. I can only get the cash during business hours.”

Pike left his cell number, then walked off the boat without looking back. He let himself through the gate and climbed back into the Rover.

Stone looked disappointed.

“I didn’t hear anything blow up.”

Pike made no comment for a moment, still thinking about Jakovich and how his plan was developing. One of the first rules of combat was that all battle plans change, and the winner was usually the guy who forced the changes.

Pike said, “Can you put your hands on a Chinese AK? New, still in the wraps?”

“Like the ones we’re talking about? Sure. Plenty of AKs around.”

“Has to be Chinese. Not a sporterized gun. A battle rifle.”

Stone shrugged.

“I know a guy who knows a guy.”

“Call him. Let’s go see Grebner.”