Robert Crais - The Watchman

Larkin’s voice was brittle.

“And his wife. They were in the Mercedes.”

Bud stared at Pike.

“How?”

“Head. Executed in another location, then brought to the warehouse. The vehicle was registered to George King.”

Kline said, “So what’s your point here, that Pitman murdered them?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you believe Pitman is behind the attempts on Larkin’s life?”

“I don’t know. It would explain the leaks, but all we know for sure is everything he’s told you are lies.”

Larkin said, “You have to be careful, Daddy. You can’t trust him.”

Kline glanced at Bud.

“Will you check this out? Eighteen-eighteen-five.”

“Right away.”

Kline focused on Pike.

“The man in the picture-the man who isn’t Meesh-do you have any idea who he is?”

“We might have his fingerprints. I don’t know that we do, but we might. We might be able to identify him.”

“As an attorney, I am telling you that if you withhold any evidence from the police, you can and probably will be charged with obstruction of justice and possibly as an accessory to the crime. I want you to know that.”

Bud said, “He knows that. Jesus.”

Pike said, “I’ll take my chances.”

Kline nodded.

“Just so you understand. You’re fired. Is that clear, Bud? This man is no longer in our employ. He no longer works for you, nor will he receive money from us or from you so long as you are in our employ.”

Larkin shouted over him.

“What is wrong with you? Haven’t you paid attention?”

Her father said, “Larkin, honey, now he’s breaking the law. We can’t have that.”

“We came here to warn you, Daddy!”

Kline interrupted.

“Conner, I have work. Let’s get out of here.”

He walked back to the Hummer.

Conner Barkley frowned at his daughter. His quizzical expression had frosted into something impatient.

“This puts me in jeopardy with the government, Larkin. We should never have been involved. We should have turned Pitman away, but you had to tell your story, and now here we are. Think of the exposure with the IRS. Think of the SEC. They could punish me, Larkin.”

It wasn’t about Larkin’s safety. It was about her father. The company. The exposure.

Pike said, “Bud, for Mr. Barkley’s record-I am not in your employ, nor his, and never have been.”

Pike glanced at Larkin.

“I’m helping a friend.”

Larkin ran to the Lexus, and Pike followed her.

“Officer Pike-”

Pike glanced back to see Bud make a tight smile. Kline and Conner Barkley were already at the Hummer.

Bud said, “Call if you need me.”

Pike got into the Lexus and drove away fast. He turned out into traffic, watching his mirror, but the Hummer stayed in the lot. They would need a different car soon. Kline or her father might describe the Lexus to the police.

Pike knew they had lost an edge. They had lost the element of surprise. Gordon Kline was probably already on the phone with Pitman. They had to move even faster than before.

Larkin said, “What are we going to do?”

“Keep going.”

She touched his shoulder. She rested her hand on his delt.

“We won’t back up.”

“We never back up.”

Pike turned into a Safeway parking lot in Burbank and went into the trunk. The black backpack Pike took from the motel was inside along with their other things. Everything he had taken from Jorge and Luis was in it. Pike went through the maps and passports until he found the Baggie containing Larkin’s picture. He closed the trunk, then climbed in behind the wheel and pulled back into traffic.

She said, “What’s that?”

“Your picture. The guy who’s after you, he gave it to Luis. He touched it, so we might have his fingerprints. It didn’t matter when we thought he was Meesh. Now it matters.”

Pike took out his phone. He was dialing when Larkin spoke again.

She said, “You know what’s fucked up? I love him.”

“Yeah. I loved mine, too.”

Pike had never said those words to anyone. Not even Elvis Cole.

John Chen

So here he was, after-hours yet again, working off the books and against the rules, flying low in a one-hundred-percent free-fire danger zone that would get his ass canned if Harriet found out, but John Chen loved it. He abso-fucking-lutely LOVED it! Maybe better than his Porsche. Maybe better than seeing his name in the paper. Maybe even better than the ’tang.

Okay, well, let’s not get carried away. Nothing was better than ’tang.

Chen giggled when he realized what he was thinking, a kind of snurfling yuck-yuck-yuck. Chen had always hated his laugh. The other kids had made fun of it (along with everything else about him), but Chen no longer gave a rolling rat-fuck because-as of twenty minutes ago-John Chen was THE MAN!

Chen had this epiphany when Joe Pike called, Pike asking him to drop everything and run a fingerprint check.

His personal friend, Joe Pike-

– who needed John Chen.

– who valued Chen’s knowledge and skill.

– who trusted him.

(And was not Joe Pike the baddest muhfuh kickin’ the streets of this city? Was he not the bravest, toughest, most feared ex-cop to stride the Earth? The most brilliant investigator [Pike had been carrying Cole for years]? Was he not a superhero in Levi’s [Chen thought they could make a mint selling Joe Pike action figures]? Did he not get the most ’tang [like that steaming hot babe waiting with Pike in the parking lot]?)

Joe Pike was THE MAN, and WHO did Pike call when he needed help?

John FUCKING Chen, that’s who!

Harriet said, “John! Why are you still here?”

Snuck up right behind him, that bitch.

Caught by surprise, John ducked his head and hunched his shoulders even as the skin along his back crawled, cringing in that instant of panic like he had cringed so many thousands of times before-but then John Chen thought, No-THE MAN does not cringe.

Chen straightened and gave her his most confident smile. And, you know, he actually felt confident.

“Finishing some work from yesterday. Don’t sweat it, Harriet. I punched out an hour ago.”

Chen had already reached his overtime limit for the week.

Harriet peered past him into the glue box. The glue box was an airtight Plexiglas chamber where superglue and other toxic chemicals were boiled to enhance fingerprints. Currently, John had a picture of Pike’s girlfriend soaking in poisonous fumes.

Harriet eyed the picture suspiciously.

“She looks familiar.”

“Yeah, she has one of those faces.”

“What case?”

“The Drano murder. The detectives think a third person might have been at the scene.”

John had never felt such confidence in his lies. As if they were coming from a core of absolute truth.

Harriet eyed the photograph a moment longer, then stepped back and appraised him.

“Thanks for not hitting me up for the overtime. These budget cuts are killing us.”

“I know, Harriet. Is there anything else?”

“No. No, thanks. Listen, how’s that tooth?”

“I don’t even feel it.”

“I’m sorry I gave you a hard time about that. I didn’t mean to be insensitive.”

“It’s not a problem, Harriet. Don’t sweat it.”

Harriet skulked away as if feeling ashamed of herself, and John smiled even wider. He had seen it in her eyes. She knew he was THE MAN.

Chen turned back to the box and examined the picture through the glass. White smudges were appearing on the front and back surfaces of the photograph, but he still had a long way to go. Fingerprints were nothing but sweat. After the water evaporated, an organic residue was left. The fumes from the superglue reacted with the amino acids, glucose, and peptides in the organics to form a white goo, but growing the goo took time. John figured he still had another ten or fifteen minutes before the prints would be usable.