Pike let it go, thinking she was probably right in being scared. If Jakovich and Darko were in some kind of war, she might find herself in jeopardy from both sides.

Pike said, “It’s okay. Forget it.”

“I will do it if you wish.”

“Forget it.”

They stood in silence, then she leaned over the rail to peer down into the black canyon.

She said, “It is so dark.”

Pike didn’t answer.

“Do you have children?”

Pike shook his head.

“You should have children. You should make plenty of babies, and be a strong father.”

Pike didn’t answer again.

Rina held the bib to her nose, and Pike could feel her draw in the deep apricot smell and the scent of her child. She touched her belly where the knife wounds had scarred, as if the pain she felt then and now were linked, and he wanted to touch that place, too, but didn’t.

Pike said, “We’ll find him.”

“Yes. I know we will find him.”

Rina leaned into him, and gazed up with shadowed eyes that seemed to be searching.

“I would be with you. It is okay.”

“You don’t have to be with me.”

“Whatever you like, I will do.”

Pike turned away.

“Get your bag. I have a place where the two of you can stay.”

Pike went out without eating, and took them away.

26

THE NEXT MORNING, Pike had Cole take him to check out the building in Sherman Oaks. It was a modern, three-story structure a few blocks south of Ventura Boulevard, across from a gourmet food store.

Pike said, “How many prostitutes does he have in there?”

“She says he had four, two on the top floor and two on the second, but that could have changed.”

“The pickup happens between four and six?”

“Yeah, but that’s only approximate. These people aren’t running an airline. We should set up early, plan on staying late, and be ready to wait a few days.”

Pike expected no less.

“It’s hunting.”

“Yes. It’s hunting.”

They circled the building to see the surrounding residential streets, and finished their tour in the food store’s parking lot. Pike noted the proximity to entrance and exit ramps for both the San Diego and Ventura Freeways. The location had been chosen so customers could be given easy directions. The prostitutes who worked here saw customers who came to them, and were known as in-call girls. Safer for the girls, and with a lower overhead for Darko. Out-call girls needed drivers and bodyguards.

Pike said, “How many stops does he make before here?”

“Three. Darko has buildings in Glendale, Valley Village, and this one. This was always the last stop.”

“So he should be carrying the full day’s take.”

“Should be. If this is still the last stop.”

Pike was going to steal the money. That was the plan. He was going to steal Darko’s money, and leave the pickup man so scared he would run straight to his bosses. Then Pike would take whatever his bosses had, too.

Pike said, “I’ve seen enough. Let’s go.”

They would need Rina to identify the bag man, so Pike picked her up a little while later. He had brought them to an empty guesthouse a few blocks south of the Sunset Strip the night before. It was small, but nice, with a lovely courtyard and neighbors who wouldn’t pry. Pike had used it before.

Rina was waiting on the street when he arrived. Yanni’s truck was parked at the curb.

She said, “Yanni want to come.”

Pike looked past her, and saw Yanni in the courtyard.

“No Yanni. Forget it.”

She barked something in Serbian, and Yanni gave Pike the finger.

Pike brought her to Cole’s, where they reviewed the plans and maps of the location with Jon Stone. When Stone first arrived, Rina squinted at him, and tugged at Pike’s arm.

“Who is this?”

“A friend. He was a friend of Frank’s, too.”

“I don’t trust these people I don’t know. I would rather have Yanni.”

“Not for this, you wouldn’t.”

At one-thirty that afternoon, they climbed into their cars and returned to Sherman Oaks, Pike and Rina in his Jeep, Cole in his Corvette, and Stone in his Rover. They looked like a caravan winding their way along the spine of the mountains.

When they reached the market, Pike and Cole turned into the parking lot, but Stone continued past, moving to set up on one of the nearby residential streets. Pike found a parking spot in one of the middle rows facing the apartment building’s entry, and Cole parked three spaces away.

Pike said, “You need to use the bathroom?”

“No, I am fine.”

“The guy who’s coming to pick up the money, does he know you?”

“I don’t know. Probably he would know me, yes.”

“Then let’s get squared away. Get in the backseat. You won’t be as easy to see in back.”

She looked at him as if he was an idiot.

“It’s only two o’clock.”

“I know. But we want to be prepared in case he comes early.”

She gripped her big purse. The one with the gun.

“I don’t care if he see me or not.”

“I care. Get in the back.”

She scowled again, but got out, and climbed into the backseat. Pike adjusted the mirror so he could see her.

“Can you see the entry?”

“Yes.”

“Watch.”

“It’s only two o’clock. Will be hours before he come.”

“Watch.”

He expected her to fidget or try to make conversation, but she didn’t. She sat behind him, a second presence in the car, quiet and still, watching.

They watched for an hour and ten minutes, silent, as people came and went around them, parking, backing out, pushing buggies filled high with groceries. Rina did not move or speak for the entire time, but then she suddenly pulled herself forward, and pointed past his chin.

“That window on the top floor, on the side there away from the freeway. That was mine.”

Then she settled back and said nothing more.

Pike studied her in the rearview, but only for a moment. He didn’t want her to catch him staring.

An hour and twenty minutes later, she abruptly pulled herself forward again.

“That girl. She is one of the girls there. In the green.”

A young woman in black spandex shorts and a lime green top came around the corner and went to the glass door. Her dark hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail, and a large gym bag was slung over her shoulder. On her way back from the gym. She was lean and fit, but her breasts were too large to be natural. She looked very young.

Rina said, “You see? I know this girl when they bring her here. They make her waitress, and then she dance.”

“Stripper.”

“Yes. And this.”

The girl let herself into the lobby, then pushed a button for the elevator.

Fifteen minutes later, Rina pulled forward again.

“There. In the black car.”

A black BMW convertible turned off Sepulveda and crept past the building as if looking for a parking place. The driver was a white male in his twenties with a thick neck and long, limp hair. He wore a white shirt with the sleeves rolled, a day-old beard, and mirrored sunglasses.

Pike hit the speed dial for Cole.

Three cars away, Cole glanced over as he raised his phone.

“What’s up?”

“The black convertible.”

Cole glanced at the street.

“I’ll get Jon.”

Pike lowered the phone, but didn’t end the call. Cole was using a second phone to put Stone in the loop. They had planned on multiple phones to maintain constant contact.

The BMW reached the stop sign, but instead of circling the building to park on the street, the driver turned into the parking lot.

“Get down.”

Rina slumped down in her seat without question, but lifted her head enough to see.

The Beemer passed behind Pike’s Jeep and Cole’s Corvette, then turned onto the next row and parked by the sidewalk. The driver got out, stepped over a low hedge, then crossed the street. Pike made him for his late twenties, maybe average in height but with a heavy frame. He looked like a hitter, and probably thought he was good at it. He let himself into the building with his own key.