Robert Crais - The First Rule

“We take the vest. You not going to need it.”

They took his Python and the.25 he kept on his ankle, and told Pike to take off his sweatshirt. Pike unstrapped the vest, then was allowed to put on the sweatshirt. The same big man ran a wand over him, searching for RF devices. Pike kept himself relaxed, planning what he would do if they found Stone’s bug. The wand moved over his shoes, then up the sides of his legs. If they found the bug, Pike knew his only chance was to acquire a weapon and exit the vehicle. He wouldn’t go for the weapon that was pointed at him. If the wand beeped, he would pull the man with the wand close as a shield, then go for the wand man’s weapon. He would shoot the man in the front seat first, then the wand man, then push his way out.

The wand passed over his buckle without beeping.

Point for Jon Stone.

They pulled away, and the second Hummer fell in behind.

Two points for Stone.

They followed Palawan off the finger, then circled the marina. Pike felt certain they were heading for the freeway, but the Hummers never left the marina. They circled past the green glass towers and restaurants, and kept circling until the street ended at undeveloped land. Then they turned back toward the water, following the last remaining street in the marina. They passed the final row of slips, then the last leg of the channel before it reached the ocean. Here, the channel was lined with maintenance buildings, nautical supply shops, storage facilities, and fishing and boat rental businesses.

The Hummers pulled up outside a long, low industrial building at the edge of the channel, and Jakovich opened the door.

“The guns are here.”

Pike looked around. It had taken only five minutes to reach the weapons, but there was only one road in or out. Jakovich’s guards would be able to see Walsh and her backup units coming from a quarter mile away.

A sign on the metal building read A. L. BARBER-DRY STORAGE. It reminded Pike of an airplane hangar, with hangar-sized doors, but now the doors were closed. Two oversized forklifts were parked nearby, along with yachts on metal frames. They were either on their way into the building or on their way out, but for now they beached in the parking lot.

A large slip cut into the dock allowed boats to be floated onto a sling. They were then lifted from the water and placed on a metal frame. The forklifts then carried them into the building for secure, long-term storage. The building was on the channel, but directly across the street the landscape was brown and ragged. A few stunted oaks and some marsh brush dotted the sandy plain, but nothing else. Pike knew Ballona Creek was somewhere on the other side, but a rise in the land blocked his view.

Jakovich said, “I sent them all home. We have the place to ourselves.”

Cole said, “You own it?”

“Of course.”

Jakovich unlocked the door and entered the building. Two of his men followed, but the others stayed by their cars.

Pike stopped at the door.

“You should have your men come in with us. They’ll attract attention out there.”

“There is no attention to attract, and who cares? I own it. I have every right to be here.”

The lights slowly flickered to life. The ceiling was almost three stories high, and supported by parallel steel girders. A thin frame of more girders was built onto the long walls, each facing the other. They reminded Pike of the Hollywood Squares, like a tic-tac-toe board set on its side. Most of the squares were now filled with yachts, a row on the floor with a second row above.

Jakovich and his two watchdogs set off the length of the building. Cole and Pike followed, with two more guards behind them. Cole glanced at Pike, arching his eyebrows to send a message. If Darko and Walsh followed their signal to the end of the marina, a caravan of vehicles would appear.

Cole ran his hand through his hair, palming the bug. He broke it, then flicked the tiny pieces away. Pike did the same.

A metal storage container the size of a two-axle truck sat in a bay at the far end of the building. It was just sitting there, secured by a single lock. Jakovich removed the lock and pushed open the door. It scraped the concrete floor with a high squeal.

Jakovich said, “There.”

Wooden crates stamped with Chinese characters filled the container. Pike knew from their size each crate would contain ten rifles. Three hundred crates. Jakovich mumbled something, and one of his goons pulled out a crate. It hit the floor with a bang that cracked the wood. Each rifle weighed about nine pounds. Ninety pounds. Three hundred crates, twenty-seven thousand pounds.

Jakovich toed the crate.

“You want to inspect, you better get started. You gonna be here f orever.”

Pike opened the crate. Cardboard boxes matching Jon’s box were packed inside. Pike tore open the cardboard and slid out the rifle in its plastic wrapper.

“Forget it. We don’t need to inspect.”

“You like my rifles?”

“Yes.”

“Good. So do I. I’m going to keep them. I’m going to keep your money, too.”

He made a little finger wave, and the watchdogs drew their guns.

Pike felt Cole move more than saw him, shifting to the side, and Pike shook his head.

“You’re giving up Darko?”

“I will get Darko on my own. This way, I get three-quarters of a million dollars.”

“Let me ask you something. Everything Rina told you about me, you think I’d give you seven hundred fifty thousand in cash, and come here unprotected?”

Jakovich reached under his shirt, and came out with a small black pistol.

“Yes, I think maybe you did. Now we’ll take you for a boat ride. Show you the sights.”

He was saying something in Serbian when a voice outside shouted, followed by a soft pop like a champagne cork. The two guards closest to the door turned toward the sound. Pike didn’t know if it was Darko or Walsh, and did not wait to find out. Jakovich shouted at his men, and Pike instantly moved. He stepped into Jakovich, stripped his pistol, and shot the two closest guards. They dropped their guns when they fell, and Cole scooped up the nearest. Pike locked his arm around Jakovich’s neck, and fell back, using him as a shield.

“There a way out behind us?”

“I’m looking.”

Three loud bangs echoed through the building, and three men ran through the far door. They stopped long enough to fire several shots, then noticed the two men Pike shot, and then they saw Pike holding Jakovich. Jakovich shouted something, but Pike cut off his wind before he finished. The men disappeared between the yachts as more men came through the door.

Cole shouted, “Back here. The big doors-”

The gunfire out front exploded into a firefight. Bullets snapped through the thin metal walls as if they were tissue, and plunked into the yachts. Pike dragged Jakovich to the doors, then pushed him away to help Cole open the doors. Outside, they saw a confused group of men running and gunning between Jakovich’s Hummers and Darko’s black cars.

Cole said, “This is a clusterfuck.”

“Here comes Walsh.”

An SRT wagon appeared at the far turn, followed by several unmarked cars.

Pike turned to look for Jakovich just as two men ran into the building. The first man was Michael Darko. He stopped just inside the door, saw Jakovich, and shot him. He ran closer, and shot him twice more. He shouted something in Serbian, and shot Jakovich a fourth time. Then he saw Pike, and Michael Darko gave a big smile.

“We got this bastard. You had a good plan.”

He would have stood over Frank Meyer exactly like that. Pike saw him shooting Frank in exactly the same way.

Pike raised his gun, and shot the man who had run in with Darko. Darko stood slack-jawed for a moment, as if he didn’t understand, then lifted his gun and fired.