“I shot him.”
Rina said, “I have to go to the bathroom.”
“Jon.”
Stone took her to the bathroom. He went in with her, and left the door open. She didn’t complain.
Cole came over with the boy. The little kid swiveled the big head around, saw Pike, and smiled. He flapped his hands. Excited.
Cole said, “He wants you.”
Pike took the boy, and propped him on his chest.
Cole lowered his voice so Rina wouldn’t hear.
“What happened?”
Pike explained what he now believed to be the truth, and described the play he was making on Jakovich and Darko.
“I’ll have to call Walsh. They’ll find Yanni’s car up in Lake View, so they’ll know he was at the scene. When the IDs come back on the stiffs at the scrap yard, and everyone shows a gang-set connection, the police will be all over it. I’m going to need her cover, and her cooperation pulling this off.”
“I don’t think she signed on for a war.”
“She signed on for three thousand combat rigs. She’s going to get them, and she’ll get the man who killed her agent.”
Pike jiggled the boy. The boy laughed, then pulled off Pike’s sunglasses. The last person who took Pike’s shades bought a three-week stay in the hospital. The boy waved them like a rattle.
Cole said, “What about the baby?”
Pike jiggled the kid again, and let the little guy punch him. Pike was fascinated by his eyes. He wondered what the boy saw, and why he took such delight in those things.
“He needs someone who’ll take care of him.”
“And that’s you?”
“Not me, but someone. Everyone needs someone.”
“Even you?”
Pike studied his friend for a moment, then gently took back his glasses. He didn’t put them on. The boy seemed to like him without them.
They handcuffed Rina to the bed in Cole’s guest room, then made a makeshift bassinet in the living room. The boy didn’t like the food Cole bought, so they made scrambled eggs. He liked the eggs fine.
Pike phoned Kelly Walsh at ten minutes after nine that night, but kept it vague. He told her he might soon know where the guns were located, and promised to call her tomorrow. His true purpose was to make sure he could reach her in case he heard back from Jakovich or Darko. If either of them went for it, he would have to move quickly, and he would need Walsh to move quickly, too.
Later, Cole went for a run, so Pike and Stone stayed with the boy. The kid crawled around on the floor, but grew tired quickly, and seemed cranky unless Pike held him. Pike held him, and after a few minutes the boy fell asleep. Pike kept his cell phone handy, but nobody called.
Stone got shitfaced and passed out on the floor, so Pike woke him and told him to sleep in the car. Pike didn’t want the snoring to disturb the boy.
Groggy, Stone said, “I gotta go see that guy.”
Cole returned an hour later, and volunteered to watch the boy if Pike wanted to run, but the boy was still sleeping on Pike’s shoulder, and Pike didn’t want to disturb him.
Cole shut the lights and went up to his loft for a shower. A few minutes later, Pike heard Cole climb into bed, and the last light went off. That was it for the day. Pike listened to the house settle, and still didn’t move.
Sometime after two that morning, a thin layer of clouds masked the full moon, filling the room with blue light. Pike had been holding the boy for almost three hours, neither of them moving. Then the boy squirmed, and Pike thought he might be dreaming. He mewled like a cat, then kicked as if he were about to start bawling.
Pike said, “I got you, bud.”
The boy woke, arched his back, and saw Pike watching. He stared into Pike’s eyes as if he had never seen eyes before, looking from one eye to the other, as if each view was different and fascinating.
Pike said, “Better?”
The boy lowered his head, and after a while he snored.
Pike never moved.
The little body was solid and warm. Pike felt the boy’s heartbeat, delicate and fast, and his chest move as he breathed. It felt good, holding a tiny living person.
Pike watched the night shadows play in the canyon.
The boy shifted again, and sighed, and once more opened his eyes.
Pike whispered, “Hey.”
The boy smiled. He kicked his legs and pumped his arms with excitement.
Pike said, “That’s right.”
The boy reached a hand toward Pike, his fingers spread.
Pike touched the center of the little hand with his index finger. The boy’s hand closed on his fingertip.
Pike wiggled his finger, just a little, and the boy, still hanging on, gurgled with a sloppy smile as if Pike’s finger was a wonderful toy.
Pike wiggled his finger again, and the kid gurgled again, and Pike realized the little guy was laughing. Holding tight, and laughing.
Pike whispered again.
“You’re safe, boy. I won’t let them hurt you.”
The feet kicked, and Pike sat, and held the little man for the rest of the night until a golden light brightened the world.
41
LATER THAT MORNING, JUST after full-up sun, Jon Stone crept into the house. He made a thumbs-up, indicating he had the rifle. Pike eased the baby onto the makeshift bed, and followed Stone out. The baby never stirred.
Outside, Stone led him behind the Rover.
“The real deal, brother. Chinese, not Russian. Fresh from the oven.”
When Stone opened the rear door, Pike saw a long, narrow cardboard box printed with Chinese characters. Stone opened it. The rifle was wrapped in a greasy plastic wrapper. Stone slid the rifle from its wrapper, and placed it on the box.
“Never been fired. The factory preservative is still on it.”
The rifle was mottled with a synthetic preservative that smelled like overripe peaches. The stock and pistol grip were made of a bright orange wood that was slick with the preservative. The Russians had gone to polymer stocks, but the Chinese still went with the wood. Pike opened the bolt to inspect the receiver and breech. They were flawless.
Stone said, “See? Not even a nick, bro. Mint condition.”
Pike worked the bolt several times. It was sticky. You had to put a thousand rounds through these things before they loosened up, but they were damn near indestructible. He slipped the rifle back into its wrapper, and returned it to the box. A 30-round magazine in its own plastic bag was included.
“Good work, Jon. Perfect.”
They put the box into Pike’s Jeep, and went back inside.
Michael Darko called at ten minutes after seven. Both the baby and Stone were sleeping, and Cole was checking on Rina. Pike was doing push-ups when the phone buzzed.
“Pike.”
“You been trying to kill me for four days. Why should I talk to you?”
“Three million dollars.”
“What are you talking about?”
“We both want the guns.”
“I want the guns. What you want, I don’t care.”
“You can’t get the guns. I can. My deal is in place, and you have a buyer.”
Darko hesitated.
“You are lying.”
“No, I’m not lying, but I need you to make it happen. That’s forced me to reconsider our relationship.”
“You think me a fool.”
“I have his grandson. That got you nowhere because he hates you. Me, he doesn’t hate. I met him yesterday at his boat to see the guns. I did, we dealt, they’re mine.”
Another hesitation.
“You saw the arms?”
“A sample. He gave it to me when we closed the deal, but now there’s a way to make even more money. I’ll show you. Hollywood Boulevard outside Musso’s in one hour. At the curb in full view where we’ll both be safe. You’ll see my Jeep.”
Pike hung up. He knew he couldn’t convince Darko with more talk. Darko would have to convince himself, and now he would either show or he wouldn’t.
Cole was back in the living room when Pike put down the phone. Stone was still sleeping. Pike explained what he was going to do, and Cole offered to come, but Pike turned him down.