Robert Crais - The Watchman

Cole saying, “How about I do the talking?”

Pike stepped away. Barkley clutched at his throat, then coughed and spat on the floor.

“Why did you do that? Why are you so mad?”

Pike wondered if Barkley was insane.

Bud moved between Pike and Barkley, raising his hands.

“Let’s take it easy. Jesus, what are you doing?”

Cole said, “Stentorum Real Holdings is a company owned by Mr. Barkley. Stentorum is trying to buy the building where we found the Kings’ bodies. They’ve had an agreement to buy that building for four months. It’s the building where Larkin had her accident with the Kings and Khali Vahnich.”

Barkley was still rubbing his throat.

“What are you talking about? I don’t know anything about that. I own Stentorum, yes, but I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Pike watched Barkley as Cole went through it. Pike read his eyes and his mouth, and the rubbery way Barkley held himself. He listened to the timbre of Barkley’s voice, gauging its rise and fall against Barkley’s shifting focus and the nervous movement of his hands. Pike decided Barkley was telling the truth.

Pike said, “Did you know Alex Meesh was a lie?”

Barkley flushed. His eye contact faltered, he glanced away, then his eyes rolled up and to the left. Pike saw he was ashamed of himself.

“We thought it was the only way.”

Bud took Barkley’s arm.

“You knew about Vahnich? Jesus, Conner. For Christ’s sake.”

Cole said, “What about the property? I spoke with the executor of the trust. She has an option-to-buy agreement with Stentorum Real Holdings.”

“I don’t pay attention to those things. I have people for that.”

Pike said, “Kline.”

Barkley passed his hands over his head again, pushing the lank hair from his face.

“Gordon left. He’s gone. I’ll show you-”

Barkley led them down the hall to the far end of the building to Gordon Kline’s office. Pike understood why Barkley’s side of the floor was empty; a crowd of people were at Kline’s end of the floor, going through his files and computer, and the computers that were used by his assistants.

Barkley said, “We think he left last night. I don’t know. Some things are missing-”

Bud said, “Money?”

“We think so, yes. There were discrepancies. He was living here. He moved into his office when this mess with Vahnich started. He said he was scared.”

Cole went to Kline’s desk where a team of people were working at his computer.

“Could he have used Stentorum to buy the property without your knowing about it?”

“Of course he could. I let Gordon take care of these things. I trusted him.”

Cole spoke loud to the room.

“Who has his phone log? C’mon, you people must log the calls. Is someone checking the log?”

Two women sitting together on a couch looked as if they didn’t know whether to answer, but Cole was with Mr. Barkley, so the older one raised her hand.

“We have it.”

Cole went over.

“Start about a month ago, doesn’t matter which day. These logs include his cell and personal?”

“Yes, sir.”

Executives of a certain level often got free phone service as one of their perks. Companies would absorb their phone bills under the rationale their executives conducted significant business by phone.

The woman flipped through the pages until she found the right dates, and Cole followed his finger down the page. He skimmed down one page, flipped to another, then looked up.

“It’s the same number we got off Luis’s phone. Vahnich.”

Pike moved closer to Barkley and lowered his voice.

“Was it Kline who suggested you lie to Larkin about Vahnich?”

Barkley nodded, then realized why Pike had asked.

“Was Gordon telling Vahnich how to find her?”

Bud looked sick now, almost as sick as Barkley.

“That sonofabitch. He was probably trying to buy himself time. Maybe blaming you for holding up the deal.”

Barkley suddenly turned away and threw up. Most everyone in the room glanced over but quickly turned away; only one person moved to help. A well-dressed young man with spectacles went to a bar and hurried back with a napkin.

Barkley said, “I’m sorry.”

Pike thought he looked sorry, and Pike felt sorry for him.

“Vahnich put a hundred twenty million dollars into an investment with the Kings, sixty from a drug cartel in Ecuador and sixty from his own sources. That means terrorists, Conner. It’s likely the Kings brokered the deal and thought they were coming to you for the balance.”

“Nobody came to me. I don’t know anything about this.”

“Came to your company, and your company was Kline.”

Cole said, “They needed two hundred million for the purchase. Kline probably figured he could steal the balance from you, or use your company’s position to raise what he needed, but not as an investor with the Kings. He needed to buy the properties through your company in order to hide what he was doing. So the Kings gave him the one-twenty, but he couldn’t raise the rest. Maybe Vahnich got scared because it was taking so long and wanted his money back. Kline probably blamed you to stall.”

Barkley listened to him like a dog waiting to be kicked. Everyone else in the room was listening, too.

Barkley wiped his mouth.

“My lawyers advised me to call the police and the banking commission. I should call Agent Pitman about this. We have to get some forensic accountants in here.”

Pike said, “You have a bigger problem than what Kline took. Vahnich still wants his money.”

Barkley took a gulp of air when he realized what this meant, and colored again.

“Is Larkin all right?”

“She’s fine.”

“Does she know-”

He wavered again, then got it out.

“Does she know I lied to her?”

“Yes.”

“I want to see her. I want to be with her right now.”

Pike glanced at Cole, and Cole nodded.

“We’ll take you.”

Pike rolled with Bud and her father, and Cole trailed them alone. Bud drove, with Pike on the passenger side and Conner Barkley in the rear. Pike filled in Bud on everything he had learned from Chen about the identities of the men from Ecuador and their possible connection to the Mara Salvatrucha street gang, MS-13. Bud put in a call to a friend of his who worked the LAPD Gang Unit, and asked him to find out whether anyone named Carlos showed on the roster of the Los Angeles MS-13 clique. After Bud made the call, they drove on in silence.

Riding with Bud at the wheel held a strange familiarity Pike did not enjoy, as if he had been forced back to a place he made peace with leaving. Pike listened to Conner Barkley to avoid thinking about it. Barkley spent most of their drive on the phone, wheezing nervously as he filled in his managers and attorneys.

Bud said, “Been a long time, Officer Pike.”

Pike glanced over and knew Bud was feeling it, too-the familiarity they shared in the car, working crime and bad guys. Bud seemed warmed by it, but nothing felt the same about those days for Pike. He pointed ahead.

“Here’s where we turn.”

Pike directed them up the winding streets to the little house. The Lexus was still in the drive, and the old people were still on their porch. The two youngest Armenian cousins were washing their BMW, Adam and one Pike hadn’t met. They looked over when the Hummer parked behind the Lexus. Cole parked next door.

Conner Barkley finally closed his phone and leaned forward to look at the house.

“This is where you’ve been staying? Larkin must have hated it.”

Pike got out without answering, waited for Cole to limp up, then went to the house. Pike hopped onto the porch and rapped hard on the door one time to warn her.