Grebner shook his head.

“You got no idea, I am telling you. No idea what kind of hell you have unleashed.”

Pike said, “Stand up.”

Grebner shuffled warily to his feet. Pike turned him around, tied off his hands, then pushed him back to the floor. Grebner squinted at Pike, trying to read him, but saw only the mirrored surface of Pike’s sunglasses-blue bug eyes in an expressionless face. Pike knew Grebner would find this unnerving. Like Walsh when she had him at Parker Center, he was psyching the edge.

“Where’s Darko?”

“Kiss my ass.”

Pike hit him again. The barrel of the.357 caught him high on the temple and split the skin.

“Darko?”

Grebner made a low growling sound, and shook his head, spreading blood over his face.

“I know you want Darko. You been telling everyone you want Darko. Here, you can call him-”

Grebner tipped his head toward the couch.

“Get the phone. You see the phone there on the couch? Get it. Scroll for Michael. Call him.”

Pike saw the phone. He picked it up, then scrolled through the directory until he found the name.

Grebner said, “Go ahead. You see the number there? Write it down, you want. Call him.”

Outside, Cole dragged the man from the kitchen next to his friend. Both men were now awake, and bound hand and foot. Cole hurried away to another part of the house, his gun out and ready.

Pike called the number, and reached a female computer voice.

“Enter your callback number at the tone, followed by the pound sign.”

A paging system. Pike hung up when the tone sounded, and brought up the phone’s call list. The call list revealed the same number had been dialed a few minutes earlier, which would have been the call Grebner placed before he went to the bathroom. Grebner was telling the truth.

Pike slipped the phone into his pocket, then went back to Grebner.

“Where is he?”

Grebner glanced at the pocket.

“There. This is where Michael is. You page him, and he calls. He lives there in the phone. He’s in your pocket.”

Pike holstered the.357, then squatted so he and Grebner were only a few inches apart.

Pike said, “This will hurt.”

Pike dug the point of his thumb behind Grebner’s right collarbone, probing for a bundle of nerves. He found it, and pinched the bundle into the bone. Grebner flinched, and tightened against the wall. Pike pinched harder, crushing the bundle. Grebner’s entire body stiffened like a drawn bow, and he made the low growl again, straining to stand up to the pain.

Pike let go.

“It will hurt worse the next time.”

Grebner sucked deep breaths, and shook his head to gather himself. A spray of fine blood speckled the wall.

“I know you want Darko, but what are you doing here, man? You want some money? I can give you money.”

Pike dug at the nerve again, and this time Grebner screamed. His face went bloodred to purple, and he kicked spastically, but Pike held him down. And then released the pressure.

“Not money. Darko.”

Grebner sobbed, still shaking his head.

“I do not know. I call him. I call the number. That is all I know. He tells no one his whereabouts for this very reason. You can beat me all you like, but I cannot say. You are not the first who wants to find him.”

“Jakovich?”

Grebner’s eyes narrowed as if Pike had finally surprised him. He glanced at his men and then toward the front door, almost as if he couldn’t believe he was in this position and if he only pretended hard enough Pike would go away.

“You got no idea what you are saying.”

“How about if I say, ‘Kalashnikov’?”

Grebner slowly opened his mouth, staring as if Pike were mystical.

“How can you know these things?”

“Are the rifles in Los Angeles?”

Grebner did not answer. He was still trying to figure out how Pike knew.

Pike reached for his shoulder, and Grebner jerked.

“Yes! Yes, this is what I hear. I don’t know this-I don’t see them-but this is what I am told.”

As Grebner answered, Cole reappeared, now carrying a grocery bag tucked under his arm. He motioned Pike over, and spoke so Grebner couldn’t hear.

“The guns are here?”

“That’s what he says.”

“How about Darko? He have a location?”

“He has a pager number. That’s it.”

Cole patted the bag.

“I scooped some billing records and files, but it’s lame. I don’t know if this will help.”

Pike and Cole returned to Grebner, who was watching them like a cornered rat would watch circling dogs.

Pike said, “Where are the guns?”

“How would I know? The old one. He has them.”

“Jakovich.”

“You do this for the guns? You want to steal them, buy them, what? Who are you working for?”

“Frank Meyer.”

“I don’t know a Frank Meyer. Who’s that?”

“Darko sent a crew to a house in Westwood almost a week ago. Do you know about that?”

“Of course, I know. This was Frank Meyer’s house?”

“Frank, his wife Cindy, their two little boys. Darko’s crew murdered them after his son was snatched.”

Now Grebner’s eyes narrowed again.

“Michael’s son?”

Pike nodded, but this seemed to confuse Grebner even more.

“Michael has no children. This was the old man’s child he took.”

Cole and Pike shared a glance, then Cole took the picture of Rina’s son from his pocket and held it out. The baby with the wispy red hair.

“Peter. Petar. Is this the kid you’re talking about?”

“I have not seen the child. All I know is what Michael tell me.”

“Which is what?”

“Michael took the child to get the guns. He thinks he can force the old man to make a deal, but the old man is crazy like these old fucks back home. He went insane.”

“So now they’re at war.”

Grebner laughed.

“You would have to be Serbian to understand. This is beyond war. The old man, he tells Michael he will kill the child himself. The old one will kill his own child to show he has no weakness, and cannot be threatened, and he will kill Michael. Do you understand what I am telling you? This whole mess has blown up in Michael’s face.”

Cole said, “Jakovich’s child? Not Michael’s.”

“Yes.”

“Who’s the mother?”

“Who can say? I don’t know these people.”

“How many children does Michael have?”

“Some? Many? None? You think we go on picnics? I never see Michael with anyone but whores.”

The phone in Pike’s pocket rang with a high-pitched jangle that made Grebner jump. Grebner’s phone.

Pike glanced at the incoming number, but it was only a number and meant nothing. Pike answered, but said nothing. The person on the other side was silent. Pike heard breathing, then the person hung up.

Pike slipped the phone into his pocket, and saw that Grebner was smiling, his teeth filmed with blood.

Grebner said, “This will be Michael, yes?”

“Probably.”

“I am sorry for your friend, Frank Meyer, but he should not have involved himself in our affairs. Neither should you. We are terrible enemies.”

Pike studied him for a moment, then glanced at Cole, whose eyes were wide, the eyes saying, What in hell just happened here?

Pike said, “We’re done. I’ll be right behind you.”

Cole headed for the front door, and Pike turned back to Grebner. When Cole was gone, Pike drew the.357 and thumbed back the hammer. The locking steel spring was a breaking bone in the quiet house. Grebner, eyebrows lurching, wet his lips and breathed faster.

Pike touched the muzzle to Grebner’s head. Grebner clenched his eyes, then opened them, wide and glistening, dancing like moths trying to escape a glass.

Pike said, “Where did Jakovich get the guns?”

“I got no idea. I don’t know.”

“Was Frank involved?”

“What? Who?”

Grebner was so scared he had already lost the name.

“The man who owned the house. Frank Meyer. Was he involved in the deal for the guns?”