The Watchman (3 page)

“Get out.”

She didn’t move fast enough, so he pulled her out, keeping her upright because she would have fallen.

“Hey! What—
stop it!”

“Did you call someone?”

“No.”

He pinned her against the Jeep with his hip as he searched her pockets for a cell phone. She tried to push him away, but he ignored her.

“Stop that—how could I call? I was with you, you freak. Stop—”

He snatched her floppy Prada bag from the floorboard and dumped the contents onto the seat.

“You
freak
! I don’t have a phone. You took it!”

He searched the pockets in her purse, then pulled her duffel from the backseat.

“I didn’t call anybody. I don’t have a phone!”

Pike finished going through her things, then stared at her, thinking.

“What?
Why are you staring at me?
”

“They found us.”

“I don’t know how they found us!”

“Let me see your shoes.”

“What?”

He pushed her backwards into the Jeep and pulled off her shoes. This time she didn’t resist. She sank back onto the seat, watching him as he lifted her feet.

Pike wondered if they had placed a transponder on her. Maybe she had been bugged from the beginning, which was how the U.S. Marshals and Bud Flynn had almost lost her. Pike checked the heels of her shoes, then looked at her belt and the metal buttons that held her jeans. She drew a deep breath as he pulled off her belt.

She said, “Like that?”

Pike ignored her smile. It was nasty and perfect.

“Want me to take off my pants?”

Pike turned to her duffel, and she laughed.

“You are such a freak. These are my things. They haven’t been out of my sight since I went with the marshals, you freak! Why don’t you
say something
? Why don’t you
talk to me
?”

Pike didn’t believe he would find anything, but he had to check, so he did, ignoring her. Pike had learned this with the Marines—the one time a man didn’t clean his rifle, that’s when it jammed; the one time you didn’t tape down a buckle or secure your gear, the noise it made got you killed.

“Are we just going to stay here? Is it even
safe
here? I want to go home.”

“They almost killed you at home.”

“Now I’m with you and they’ve almost killed me twice. I want to
go home
.”

Pike took out his cell phone and checked the messages. The three incoming calls were from Bud Flynn. Pike hit the send button to return the calls and wondered if they were being tracked by his phone, the signal triangulated between cell stations. To track him they would have to know his number, but Bud had it. Maybe if Bud knew it, they knew it, too.

Bud answered immediately.

“You scared the hell out of me. I thought you were done when you didn’t answer.”

“They found us again.”

“Get outta here. Where are you?”

“Listen. She wants to come home.”

Pike was watching the girl when he said it, and she was staring back.

Bud didn’t answer right away, but when he did his voice was soft.

“Now let’s take it easy. Let’s everybody calm down. Is she safe? Right now, is everything good?”

“Yes.”

“I want to make sure I understand—are you talking about the Malibu house or the house I just sent you to, the one in Eagle Rock?”

Bud had sent them to a safe house in Malibu the night before, then put them onto the Eagle Rock house when the shooters hit Malibu.

“Eagle Rock. You gave me two bad houses, Bud.”

“Not possible. They could not have known about this house.”

“Three more men died. Do the feds have me covered on this or not? I have to know, Bud.”

Bud already knew about the two in Malibu. The feds had screamed, but promised to cover for Pike and the girl with the locals.

Now Bud didn’t sound confident.

“I’ll talk to them.”

“Talk fast. I lost one of my guns, the .357. When the police run the numbers, they’ll have my name.”

Bud made a soft hiss that sounded more tired than angry. Pike didn’t press him. Pike let him think.

“All right, listen—she wants to come home?”

“Yes.”

“Put her on.”

Pike held out the phone. The girl put it to her ear, but now she seemed uncertain. She listened for several minutes, and then she spoke once.

She said, “I’m really scared. Can’t I come home?”

Pike knew the answer even before she gave back the phone. Here they were in an alley in southeast Los Angeles, temperature in the mid-nineties, and this girl looked cold. She flew over places like this in her family’s private Gulfstream, but here she was, all for being in the wrong place at the wrong time and, for likely the first and only time in her life, trying to do the right thing. And now the right thing meant being with him.

Pike took back the phone even as a car turned into the far end of the alley. He immediately put himself between the girl and the oncoming car, then saw the driver was a young Latina, so short she drove with her head tilted back to see over the wheel.

Pike lifted the phone.

“Me.”

“Okay, listen—she’s good to stay with you. I think that’s best and so does her father. I’ll line up another house—”

“Keep your house. Did you ID the men in Malibu?”

“We have to get you safe. I’ll line up another house—”

“Your houses are bad.”

“Joe—”

“They had us twice at your houses. I’ll get us a house.”

“You can’t cut me out like this. How will I know—”

“You gave her to me, Bud. She’s mine.”

Pike shut off his phone. The girl was watching him there in the angry heat of the alley.

She said, “Now I’m yours? Did you really say that?”

“If you want to go home I’ll take you home. That’s up to you, not them. That’s all I meant. I’ll take you back if you want.”

Pike knew she was thinking about it, but then she shrugged.

“I’ll stay.”

“Get in.”

Pike helped her into his Jeep, then studied both ends of the alley. He wanted to start moving, but his Jeep was now a liability. The police would eventually know he was involved because of his gun, but if a witness in Eagle Rock had his license plate, the police might already be looking for a red Jeep Cherokee. Pike wanted to avoid the police, but he couldn’t just sit. When you weren’t moving you were nothing but someone’s target.

The alley was clear. Right now, at this moment and in this place, Pike and the girl were invisible. If Pike could keep it that way, the girl would survive.

PIKE TURNED into the Bristol Farms on Sunset at Fairfax, and parked as far from the intersection as possible, hiding their Jeep.

She said, “What are we doing?”

“I have to call someone. Get out.”

“Why don’t you call from the car?”

“I don’t trust my cell. Get out.”

“Can’t I wait here?”

“No.”

Pike was concerned she might be recognized even with the new hair and sunglasses, but she might change her mind about staying with him, take off running, and get herself killed. They had known each other for exactly sixteen hours. They were strangers.

Larkin hurried around the Jeep to catch up.

“Who are you calling?”

“We need new wheels and a place to stay. We need to learn something about the people who are trying to kill you. If the police are after us, it changes our moves.”

“What do you mean, moves? What are we going to do?”

Pike was tired of talking, so he didn’t. He led her past the flower stand at the front of the market to a bank of pay phones, and pushed quarters into a phone.

Larkin hooked her arm around his, as though the Santa Anas would blow her away if she wasn’t anchored. She glanced into the market.

“I want to get something to eat.”

“No time.”

“I could get something while you’re talking.”

“Later.”

Pike owned a small gun shop in Culver City, not far from his condominium. He had five employees: four men and one woman—two who were full-time and three who were former police officers.

A man named Ronnie answered on the second ring.

“Gun shop.”

Pike said, “I’m calling in two.”

Pike hung up.

Larkin squeezed his arm.

“Who was that?”

“He works for me.”

“Is he a bodyguard, too?”

Pike ignored her, watching the second hand circle his Rolex. Ronnie would be walking next door to the laundromat for Pike’s call.

While Pike waited, two men in their late twenties passed by on their way out of the market. One of them looked Larkin up and down, and the other stared at her face. Larkin looked back at them. Pike tried to read if the second man recognized her. Out in the parking lot they goosed each other before climbing into a black Audi, so Pike decided they hadn’t.

Pike said, “Don’t do that again.”

“What?”

“Make eye contact like you did with those guys. Don’t do it.”

Pike thought she was going to say something, but instead she pressed her lips together and stared into the market.

“I could have gotten something to eat by now.”

At the two-minute mark, Pike made his call and Ronnie picked up. Pike sketched the situation, then told Ronnie to close the shop and send everyone home. The men who wanted Larkin dead had almost certainly known Pike’s identity when they hit the safe houses, but hadn’t needed it to find the girl. Now that Pike had disappeared with her, they would try to find Larkin by finding him, and this knowledge would give them the people in Pike’s life like overlapping ripples, one ripple leading to another, each ripple breaking the next.

Ronnie said, “I hear you. What do you need?”

“A car and a cell phone. Get one of those prepaid phones they sell at Best Buy or Target.”

“Okey-doke. You can use my old Lexus, you want. That okay?”

Ronnie’s Lexus was twelve years old. Ronnie’s wife had handed it down to their daughter, but his daughter was away at law school, so mostly the car sat parked. It was dark green.

Pike told Ronnie to leave the Lexus at an Albertsons they both knew in thirty-five minutes, just leave it and walk away. Thirty-five minutes would give Pike time to hit his condo before ditching the Jeep.

Pike said, “Ronnie. Turn on the security and surveillance cameras when you guys lock up. Then don’t go back. Nobody go back until you hear from me.”

“Might be better if we stayed open. If your friends roll around we could sort’m out.”

“LAPD might come around, too.”

“I hear you.”

Pike hung up and immediately walked the girl back to his Jeep. He felt the passing minutes like a race he was losing. Once you engaged the enemy, speed was everything. Speed was life.

She pulled at his arm.

“You’re walking too fast.”

“We have a lot to do.”

“Where are we going?”

“My place.”

“Is that where we’re going to stay?”

“No. The shooters are going there, too.”

Pike lived in a sprawling condominium complex in Culver City, less than a mile from the sea. A stucco wall surrounded the grounds, with gates that required a magnetic key. The condos were arranged in four-unit pods laid out around two tennis courts and a communal pool which Pike never used. Pike’s unit was set in a far back corner, shielded from the others.

Pike drove directly to his complex, but didn’t enter the property. He circled the wall, looking for anyone who might be watching the gates or watching out for his Jeep. Pike hated bringing the girl to his condo, but he believed the window of time through which he could enter was shrinking.

Pike circled the complex once, then turned into the rear drive and waved the gate open with his key.

Larkin looked around at the buildings.

“This isn’t so bad. I thought you probably lived in some grungy rat hole. How much money do bodyguards make?”

Pike said, “Get on the floor under the dash.”

“Can I get something to eat at your place? You gotta have something to eat, don’t you?”

“You won’t be getting out of the car.”

Pike knew she rolled her eyes even without seeing it, but she slithered down under the dash.

“When men ask me to go down like this, it’s usually for something else.”

Pike glanced at her.

“Funny.”

“Then why don’t you smile? Don’t bodyguards ever smile?”

“I’m not a bodyguard.”

Pike drove to the small lot where he normally parked. Only three cars were in the lot, and he recognized all three. He stopped, but did not take the Jeep out of gear or shut the engine. The grounds were landscaped with palm trees, hibiscus, and sleek birds-of-paradise. Concrete walks wound between the palms. Pike studied the play of greens and browns and other colors against the stucco walls and Spanish roofs.

Larkin said, “What’s happening?”

Pike didn’t answer. He saw nothing out of the ordinary, so he let the Jeep drift forward and finally shut the engine. He could take the girl with him, but would move faster without her.

Pike held out the Kimber.

“I’ll be thirty seconds. Here.”

She shook her head.

“I hate guns.”

“Then stay here. Don’t move.”

Pike slipped out of the Jeep before she could answer and trotted up the walk to his door. He checked the two dead-bolt locks and found no sign of tampering. He let himself in and went to a touch pad he had built into the wall. Pike had installed a video surveillance system that covered the entrance to his home and the ground floor.

Pike set his alarm, let himself out, and trotted back to the Jeep. Larkin was still under the dash.

She said, “What did you do?”

“I don’t know anything about these people. If they come here, we’ll get their picture and I’ll have something to work with.”

“Can I get up?”

“Yes.”

When they passed back through the gate, no one appeared in the rearview mirror. Pike turned toward the Albertsons.

Larkin climbed out from under the dash and fastened her seat belt. She looked calmer now. Better. Pike felt better, too.