“Whose baby is it?”
“Is mine!”
“No, not yours.”
“I am saying the truth. What you think is happening here? Why are you acting like this?”
Stone prodded Yanni with the M4.
“Maybe because this asshole shot him.”
“That was a mistake. He got confused.”
Pike looked at Yanni.
“Was shooting me a mistake, Simo?”
Yanni’s eyes fluttered at the mention of his true name.
“I get confused. Who is this Simo?”
“A soldier for Milos Jakovich. From Vitez.”
“This is not me.”
“Ran your prints, Simo. We know.”
Rina’s voice grew.
“I don’t know why you are saying this things. I am the mother-” Pike drew the.357, put it to Yanni’s head, and pulled the trigger. The blast echoed off the surrounding hills like a sonic boom. Rina jerked sideways, and shrieked, but Yanni simply slumped.
Jon Stone said, “Ouch.”
Pike thumbed the hammer, but he did not have to ask Rina again. The words spewed from her like lava.
“No, no, no, no-is not mine, isn’t, but is Milos’s. That is why Darko take him. It is true.”
“You work for Jakovich?”
“Yes!”
“Jakovich is the father?”
“No, no! The grandfather! He is the boy’s grandfather!”
These people lied so much they might not even remember the truth.
“Where’s the boy’s father?”
“He is dead! In Serbia! The boy is here because he has no one else. Even the mother is dead.”
The newest story rattled out, but this time Pike believed her. Milos Jakovich’s actual and only son was a forty-two-year-old man who had been incarcerated in a Serbian prison. Petar had been conceived during a conjugal visit, only to have his mother die in childbirth. Two months later, the boy’s father, Stevan, was murdered in his cell by a Bosnian-Croat who was serving time for the mass murder of sixty-two Bosnian Muslims at the Luka detention camp. This left Petar Jakovich as the old man’s lone remaining male heir, so he had the boy shipped to the U.S.
Rina said, “When Milos find out what Michael going to do, he say we must hide the baby. He give Petar to me and Yanni, and I give him to Ana. Then Michael take, and Milos tell us to find the boy, and show them.”
Show them. Murder his own grandson to show them.
Stone spit in the sand.
“Father of the motherfuckin’ year. You know what? I wanna cap this prick. I want to do him with a goddamned knife.”
Pike thought through what he had, and what he needed. Protect the boy. The man who killed Frank. Three thousand combat weapons. In that order.
“Where is Jakovich? Right now, where is he?”
“On his boat. He have a boat.”
“Where?”
“The marina.”
“You can reach him? Call him?”
“Yes! He is not like Michael. He does not hide.”
Pike jerked her to her feet and cut the plasti-cuffs, freeing her wrists. “Good. We’re going to see him.”
Stone said, “Fuckin’ A.”
Pike shoved her toward the Rover. He now had something that both men wanted, and a plan was coming together.
39
THE LONG DRIVE FROM Angeles Crest to Marina del Rey gave Pike time to find out what Jakovich knew. Rina had told him about Pike, and Pike’s relationship with Frank Meyer, and what Pike was trying to do. Pike decided this was good. Jakovich’s familiarity would make Pike’s play more believable, especially with what Jon Stone had learned about the guns.
“Does he know I tracked Darko to the scrap yard?”
“Yes. I tell him after you leave.”
“Does he know you and Yanni followed me?”
“Yes. He the one tell us to go.”
Which meant Jakovich was wondering what happened, and expecting Rina to call. Considering the amount of time that had passed, he would be thinking something had gone wrong, but this was okay, too.
The condominium towers surrounding the marina grew larger as they approached, then the freeway ended, and they circled the marina past restaurants, yacht dealers, and stunning condo towers built of green glass.
Rina did not know the name of his yacht, but she knew where it was berthed.
Pike said, “Show me.”
“How I going to show you? We out here, it in there. He have to let us in.”
The marina was surrounded by restaurants and hotels open to the public, but the yachts were protected by high fences, electric gates, and security cameras. Pathways existed outside the fence so visitors could admire the boats, but admittance required a key or a combination. Rina directed them to the far side of the marina, and onto a street with yachts on one side and apartment buildings on the other. It was like driving onto a long, narrow island, and when they reached the end of the island, they found a hotel.
She said, “Is behind the hotel. Where they keep the big boats.”
Stone cruised through the hotel’s parking lot until they found a view of the yachts. Rina searched the rows of yachts, and finally pointed.
“That one. The blue. You see it there, on the end? The dark blue.”
Stone scowled when he saw the boat.
“Piece of shit scumbag motherfucker, living in a boat like that. I’d sink that bitch right there. Put it right on the bottom.”
Pike made the boat for an eighty-footer, a fiberglass-and-steel diesel cruiser with a dark blue hull and cream decks. Boats were slipped by size, so this one was berthed with the other long yachts, near the end of the wharf with its bow to the channel. Pike didn’t see anyone on Jakovich’s boat, but he counted seven people moving on the boats nearby. Witnesses were good.
“Take us back to the gate, Jon.”
When they reached the gate, Pike gave Rina her phone. He had already told her what to say and how to say it.
“Remember-you’re alive as long as you help me.”
Rina made the call.
“Is me. I have to speak with him.”
They waited almost three minutes, and then she nodded. The old man had taken the phone.
“No, we did not get him. No, not Michael, either. Pike got the boy. Yes, he has the boy now, but Michael escape. You must listen-”
Pike could hear a male voice on the other side of her conversation. She talked over him to keep going.
“We are here at the gate, Milos. He is here. Pike.”
She glanced at Pike.
“He is sitting here with me. He want to see you.”
She glanced away.
“I cannot. If I say Serbian, he will kill me.”
Another glance.
“Yanni is dead.”
Pike took the phone.
“I shot him. I will do the same thing to Michael Darko, but I need your help to do it.”
The phone was silent for several seconds, but then the male voice spoke.
“Go to the gate. We will buzz you in.”
As Pike got out, Stone said, “Sink that bitch. Put it on the bottom.”
Jon was like that.
Pike was at the gate less than thirty seconds when he heard the lock open. He let himself through, walked down a long ramp to the wharf, then followed the wharf past the row of yachts. The sky was beginning to color, but the afternoon was still bright, and people were out.
Two large men were waiting, one on a lower fantail deck that jutted from the stern, and one a short flight of steps above on an upper deck. They wore Tommy Bahama shirts and carried a lot of fat, but they looked hard, with brooding faces and dark eyes. Pike decided he would be safe as long as he stayed on deck, and in the open. No one would pull a trigger with so many people nearby, and Pike didn’t think either or both men could beat him with their hands.
A balding man who appeared to be in his seventies was seated at a small round table on the upper deck. He had been a big man once, but his skin was beginning to hang like loose fabric. When Pike stopped at the stern, he motioned Pike aboard.
“Come on. Let’s see what you have to say.”
“His accent wasn’t pronounced. Probably because he had been here longer.