the First Rule (2010) (7 page)

Frank pushed Lonny Tang's intestines back into his body, then wrapped him with pressure bandages and belts to keep him together. While Chandler laid down cover fire, Frank ran to his burning Rover for radios, more ammunition, and a .50-caliber Barrett rifle they used for sniper suppression. The Barrett, a beast of a rifle that weighed over thirty pounds, could punch through engine blocks at more than a mile.

Chandler herded the journalists to a more defensible location, but Lonny Tang could not be moved. Frank stashed him in a stone hut, then moved forward with the Barrett gun. Frank later said he was crying during the entire firefight; blubbering like a baby, he would say, running, then firing, then running again.

Pike heard much of it through his radio, with Chandler broadcasting a play-by-play as Pike coordinated a rescue mission with a British air controller.

Frank Meyer fought on like that for almost thirty minutes, running and gunning with the Barrett even when the tanks and armored vehicles crunched into the village, Frank banging away like a lunatic to draw them from Lonny Tang.

Everyone later assumed the big boomers turned back into the desert after they picked up their troops, but Colin Chandler and the BBC journalists reported that a young American named Frank Meyer had shot it out toe-to-toe with four armored vehicles and two heavy tanks, and driven the bastards away.

Frank's contract expired five days later. He wept when he shook Pike's hand for the last time, boarded an airplane, and that had been that, changing one life for another.

Pike officially retired from contract work sixty-two days later, and maybe Frank's decision had something to do with Pike's decision, though Pike never thought so. Pike had told Frank to do it. Build the family he wanted. Leave the past. Always move forward.

PIKE WAS STILL AT Frank's desk when his cell vibrated, there in the cool blue light.

Stone said, All right, listen. They're watching a guy named Rahmi Johnson. Been on him for almost a month. I've got an address here for you.

If they're on him, he didn't murder Frank.

Rahmi isn't the suspect. Cops think his cousin might be involved, a dude named Jamal Johnson.

Might be, or is?

Gotta have proof for it, but he looks pretty good. Check it out. Jamal was released from Soledad two weeks before the first score. He crashed with Rahmi when he got out, but moved out three days after the score. Four days after the second score, Jamal dropped by with a sixty-inch plasma to thank Rahmi for putting him up. A week after the third score, Jamal tools up in a brand-new black-on-black Malibu with custom rims. He gives the car to Rahmi, too. Can you imagine? My guy's telling me this, I'm thinking, shit, I wish this asshole was my cousin, too.

Stone broke out laughing, but the laughter was too loud and too long. Stone had been drinking.

Pike said, Where's Jamal?

Nobody knows, bro. That's why they're sitting on Rahmi.

Maybe Rahmi knows. Have they asked him?

They did, and that's where they fucked up. Rolled by something like two months ago, when Jamal was first identified as a person of interest. Heard he was crashing with Rahmi, so they went by. Rahmi played stupid, but you know he warned Jamal the second those cops were out the door. That's when Jamal dropped off the map.

Pike thought about it. Thought how he would play it.

They should ask him again.

Stone laughed.

Well, they're cops, not you. That timeline business, that's not proof, but it's convincing. They don't want to arrest the guy, they want to follow him. They want to catch him in the act or clear him, one way or the other.

So SIS is covering Rahmi, hoping Jamal will come around again.

They got nothing else, man. Jamal's their only good suspect.

Pike grunted. SIS was good. They were patient hunters. They would shadow their target for weeks like invisible men, but Pike didn't want to wait that long. Stone was right. The police were trying to build a case, but Pike didn't care about a case. His needs were simpler.

What's that address?

Stone cleared his throat, suddenly uncomfortable.

Okay, now listen, we can't have any blowback here. You go barging in and it comes back to me, the SIS guys will know who gave them up. You ruin their play, my guy is fucked.

No blowback. They'll never see me.

Stone laughed again, still too loud and too long, and now more than a little nervous.

Only you could say that, Pike, talking about SIS. Jesus Christ, bro, only you.

Stone was giving Pike the address when light exploded into the office, so bright the walls and furniture were white with glare. Pike, still in the chair with his back to the window, did not move. The patrol car had returned.

Pike said, Sh.

What's wrong?

An enormous blue shadow crossed the office wall as if someone had moved in front of the light. Pike heard faint radio calls, and listened for approaching footsteps.

Stone's tiny voice came from the phone.

You sound weird, man. Where are you?

Pike whispered, as still as a fish at the bottom of a pond.

Frank's. The police are outside.

You break in?

Sh.

The light swung away, moving to another part of the house like an animal tracking a scent.

What the fuck are you doing at Frank's?

I wanted to see what his life was like.

You're a strange cat. I mean, really.

The light snapped off. The yard plunged into darkness. The radio chatter faded. The patrol car rolled on.

Pike said, Okay.

Hey, is it nice?

What?

Frank's house. Does he have a nice place?

Yes.

Fancy?

Not like you mean. It's a good family home.

Pike heard Stone swallow. Heard the glass tink the phone.

You think it's true, he went bad?

Chen thinks the people who did this got the wrong house.

Like, what, they got confused about which house they wanted to rob?

It happens.

What do you think?

Doesn't matter.

No. No, it surely doesn't.

Stone made a deep sigh. Pike thought it might have been a sob, but then Stone had another sip of whatever he was sipping, and went on.

Assholes like this, they go in these houses, right house, wrong house, murder people like they were nothing, probably sleep like a baby after it's over. How many times have they done this?

Frank was the seventh.

You see? This is my point. Six times before, they got away clean. Murdered some poor bastard, and there have been no consequences. Hence, these people do not fear the dead. They LOVE the dead, Joe, because the dead, and I apologize if my assessment here seems harsh, but, the dead have not been effective when it comes to consequence and retribution.

What are you drinking?

Scotch. I am drinking scotch in honor of our friend Frank. I would rather rip off a twenty-one-gun salute out in the backyard, but my neighbors prefer the drinking. Where was I?

Consequence and retribution.

Right,

Jon Stone was grieving, so Pike let him continue.

But then . . . then they hit Frank the Tank, them not knowing he was Frank the Tank, them thinking he was just another ordinary dead guy without recourse to consequence. So dig this, and this is my favorite part, those assholes are somewhere right now, shootin' up, corn-holing each other, whatever, they are somewhere right now, and they do not know a shit storm is on the horizon, and it is coming for them.

Pike said, Jon? Do you have photographs on your walls?

What, like naked chicks?

Pictures of your family. Friends.

Shit, yeah. I take pictures of everything. I got pictures of fuckin' human heads. Why?

No reason.

Hey, man. Those fuckers. Those fucks fucked the pooch this time, didn't they, fuckin' with Frank?

Get some sleep.

I want in on this, bro. I mean it. Whatever.

Get some sleep.

I'll call Colin. Colin will be on the first plane.

Don't call Colin.

Wallace would come.

Don't.

Fuck it. Hey, Joe? Joe, you there?

What?

Stone was silent for so long Pike thought he had fallen asleep.

Jon?

None of us had families. You never married. Lonny, Colin, not them, either. Wallace got divorced. I've been married six fuckin' times, man, what does that tell you? None of us had kids.

Pike didn't know what to say, but maybe Stone voiced it for him, soft, and hoarse from the booze.

I really wanted Frank to make it. Not just for him.

Pike closed his phone.

He sat in Frank's office for almost an hour, alone with himself and the silence, then walked back along the hall to Cindy's desk. He took the framed picture of Frank in the pool, tucked it into his pocket, then let himself out the way he had entered, and drove home for the night.

They call this the city The city of angels All I see is death-dealin' dangers.

, TATTOOED BEACH SLUTS

Part Two The First Rule 8

PIKE RETURNED HOME AFTER leaving Frank's house and found a message waiting from Elvis Cole, who was Pike's friend and partner in a detective agency. Pike listened while he drank a bottle of water.

Cole said, Hey. A cop named Terrio came by the office today, asking about you and someone named Frank Meyer. Felt like he was fishing, but he also said this guy Meyer was murdered. Call me.

Pike deleted the message, then looked up Rahmi's address on his computer. He was hungry, he wanted to exercise and return Cole's call, but he needed to keep moving. Movement meant progress, and progress meant finding the men who killed Frank.

The Google Maps feature was like having a spy satellite. Pike typed in Rahmi's address, and there it was, all of Compton spread out thousands of feet below. Pike zoomed in for a closer look, then went to the street view, which allowed him to see Rahmi's building as if he were standing in the street. Faded paint. Dying grass. Big Wheel on its side. The Google pictures had been taken on a bright, sunny day, and might have been taken months ago, but they were a good place to start.

Rahmi Johnson lived in a green two-story apartment building 1.67 miles north of the Artesia Freeway in Compton. His building was shaped like a shoe box, with three units on bottom, three on top, and a flat, featureless roof. Rahmi had the center ground-floor apartment. Single-family homes and similar buildings lined Rahmi's side of the street, set on lots so narrow that some of the homes were turned sideways. Rahmi's building was sideways. Almost every yard was protected by short chain-link fences, and almost every house had security bars on its windows. The opposite side of the street was lined by single-story commercial buildings.

Because of the sideways orientation, the side of Rahmi's building faced the street and the front of the building faced the next-door neighbor's property. Residents entered through a chain-link gate, passed the Big Wheel, then went along the length of their building to reach their apartments. This sideways orientation made it difficult for Pike to see Rahmi's door from the street. He considered this, and knew the police would have the same problem.

Pike was studying the buildings surrounding Rahmi's apartment house when his cell phone rang. He saw it was John Chen, and took the call.

Yes.

We confirmed a fourth gun to go with the fourth set of shoe prints. Three of the four guns were used in the earlier murders, but the fourth gun was not. That fourth gun showed casings in the nanny's room and the family room.

How many?

Three. The fourth gunman shot Frank Meyer once, and put both bullets in the girl, Ana Markovic. We're still matching the other bullets and casings, but that's the prelim. I thought you'd want to know.

Thanks.

Pike put down the phone, and thought about the fourth shooter. The new guy. Someone who had not taken part in the earlier invasions, but had gone to Frank's house. Pike wondered why a fourth man had joined the crew. Had the original three members known about Frank's background, and expected more resistance?

Pike finally put it out of his head, and returned to his computer. He studied Rahmi's building, then the surrounding structures and the commercial properties across the street. He noticed that both sides of the street were lined with parked cars, then went back to the overhead view and realized why. Neither Rahmi's building nor the other small apartment buildings had driveways or spaces for off-street parking; residents parked on the street. This meant Rahmi's new Malibu would probably be parked in front of his building.

No building in the area was more than two stories, and most were only a single story. With no overlooking vantage point, the spotter would have to be close. The high density of residents, the on-street parking, and the long-term nature of the surveillance meant the spotter was housed in a nearby building. You couldn't park a Crown Vic out front for three weeks and expect the neighbors not to notice. Ditto repair vans, delivery trucks, and phony cable trucks. After forty-five minutes of studying the area, Pike believed the surveillance options for SIS were limited. He had a pretty good idea where they would place their spotters, and also how he could reach Rahmi without being seen. He would have to see the area at night and during the day to be sure, but he knew what he had to do.