Robert Crais - The First Rule

Stone made the call while he drove.

There was only one guard this time, a short, muscular man who answered Grebner’s door with a scowl, and never had time to speak. Pike shut off his air, disarmed him, and marched him through the house. Emile Grebner was on the toilet when Pike found him. Pike made the guard lie on his belly, and told Grebner to stay on the can. It was hard to move quickly with your pants around your ankles.

Pike said, “Call Darko. I have the boy now, and that changes things.”

“How you mean changes?”

“I can get Milos Jakovich, and that means I can get his rifles. I will sell Jakovich to Darko for one third of the guns-two thousand rifles for him, one thousand for me.”

“You will sell him? What are you talking about?”

“It means if Darko and I can put our disagreement behind us, Darko can get rid of his competition. I wrote my phone number on the floor in your living room. Tell Darko to call.”

“These rifles, you have them?”

“Tell Darko to call. If he doesn’t call, Jakovich will sell them to someone else, and he can kiss his Armenian deal good-bye.”

Pike walked out of the house, and filled Stone in as they headed for Cole’s. The Jeep and Cole’s Corvette were side-by-side in the carport. They parked across the drive, blocking both cars, and Pike let them in through the kitchen. Stone hung on to Rina like she might try to run.

Cole had the boy in his arms, watching the Lakers. Cole was set up nicely by the time they arrived. Food for the boy. Pampers and lotions, and a baby-sized spoon set. Pike saw the stuff in the kitchen as they entered.

Cole stood as they entered and arched his eyebrows because he expected to see four people, and Yanni was missing.

“I shot him.”

Rina said, “I have to go to the bathroom.”

“Jon.”

Stone took her to the bathroom. He went in with her, and left the door open. She didn’t complain.

Cole came over with the boy. The little kid swiveled the big head around, saw Pike, and smiled. He flapped his hands. Excited.

Cole said, “He wants you.”

Pike took the boy, and propped him on his chest.

Cole lowered his voice so Rina wouldn’t hear.

“What happened?”

Pike explained what he now believed to be the truth, and described the play he was making on Jakovich and Darko.

“I’ll have to call Walsh. They’ll find Yanni’s car up in Lake View, so they’ll know he was at the scene. When the IDs come back on the stiffs at the scrap yard, and everyone shows a gang-set connection, the police will be all over it. I’m going to need her cover, and her cooperation pulling this off.”

“I don’t think she signed on for a war.”

“She signed on for three thousand combat rigs. She’s going to get them, and she’ll get the man who killed her agent.”

Pike jiggled the boy. The boy laughed, then pulled off Pike’s sunglasses. The last person who took Pike’s shades bought a three-week stay in the hospital. The boy waved them like a rattle.

Cole said, “What about the baby?”

Pike jiggled the kid again, and let the little guy punch him. Pike was fascinated by his eyes. He wondered what the boy saw, and why he took such delight in those things.

“He needs someone who’ll take care of him.”

“And that’s you?”

“Not me, but someone. Everyone needs someone.”

“Even you?”

Pike studied his friend for a moment, then gently took back his glasses. He didn’t put them on. The boy seemed to like him without them.

They handcuffed Rina to the bed in Cole’s guest room, then made a makeshift bassinet in the living room. The boy didn’t like the food Cole bought, so they made scrambled eggs. He liked the eggs fine.

Pike phoned Kelly Walsh at ten minutes after nine that night, but kept it vague. He told her he might soon know where the guns were located, and promised to call her tomorrow. His true purpose was to make sure he could reach her in case he heard back from Jakovich or Darko. If either of them went for it, he would have to move quickly, and he would need Walsh to move quickly, too.

Later, Cole went for a run, so Pike and Stone stayed with the boy. The kid crawled around on the floor, but grew tired quickly, and seemed cranky unless Pike held him. Pike held him, and after a few minutes the boy fell asleep. Pike kept his cell phone handy, but nobody called.

Stone got shitfaced and passed out on the floor, so Pike woke him and told him to sleep in the car. Pike didn’t want the snoring to disturb the boy.

Groggy, Stone said, “I gotta go see that guy.”

Cole returned an hour later, and volunteered to watch the boy if Pike wanted to run, but the boy was still sleeping on Pike’s shoulder, and Pike didn’t want to disturb him.

Cole shut the lights and went up to his loft for a shower. A few minutes later, Pike heard Cole climb into bed, and the last light went off. That was it for the day. Pike listened to the house settle, and still didn’t move.

Sometime after two that morning, a thin layer of clouds masked the full moon, filling the room with blue light. Pike had been holding the boy for almost three hours, neither of them moving. Then the boy squirmed, and Pike thought he might be dreaming. He mewled like a cat, then kicked as if he were about to start bawling.

Pike said, “I got you, bud.”

The boy woke, arched his back, and saw Pike watching. He stared into Pike’s eyes as if he had never seen eyes before, looking from one eye to the other, as if each view was different and fascinating.

Pike said, “Better?”

The boy lowered his head, and after a while he snored.

Pike never moved.

The little body was solid and warm. Pike felt the boy’s heartbeat, delicate and fast, and his chest move as he breathed. It felt good, holding a tiny living person.

Pike watched the night shadows play in the canyon.

The boy shifted again, and sighed, and once more opened his eyes.

Pike whispered, “Hey.”

The boy smiled. He kicked his legs and pumped his arms with excitement.

Pike said, “That’s right.”

The boy reached a hand toward Pike, his fingers spread.

Pike touched the center of the little hand with his index finger. The boy’s hand closed on his fingertip.

Pike wiggled his finger, just a little, and the boy, still hanging on, gurgled with a sloppy smile as if Pike’s finger was a wonderful toy.

Pike wiggled his finger again, and the kid gurgled again, and Pike realized the little guy was laughing. Holding tight, and laughing.

Pike whispered again.

“You’re safe, boy. I won’t let them hurt you.”

The feet kicked, and Pike sat, and held the little man for the rest of the night until a golden light brightened the world.

Later that morning, just after full-up sun, Jon Stone crept into the house. He made a thumbs-up, indicating he had the rifle. Pike eased the baby onto the makeshift bed, and followed Stone out. The baby never stirred.

Outside, Stone led him behind the Rover.

“The real deal, brother. Chinese, not Russian. Fresh from the oven.”

When Stone opened the rear door, Pike saw a long, narrow cardboard box printed with Chinese characters. Stone opened it. The rifle was wrapped in a greasy plastic wrapper. Stone slid the rifle from its wrapper, and placed it on the box.

“Never been fired. The factory preservative is still on it.”

The rifle was mottled with a synthetic preservative that smelled like overripe peaches. The stock and pistol grip were made of a bright orange wood that was slick with the preservative. The Russians had gone to polymer stocks, but the Chinese still went with the wood. Pike opened the bolt to inspect the receiver and breech. They were flawless.