The First Rule - Robert Crais Page 0,59

his clubs. Everything else went to fences and flea markets.

Pike tapped Jon’s leg, and Jon rolled on, cruising back to their cars. Everything moved quickly after their brief reconnoiter, which was how Pike liked it. Speed was good. In armed confrontations, speed was the difference between life and death.

Cole immediately put Rina in his car and left the area. Stone motored away, but would circle the block to approach from the front. Pike returned to his Jeep, immediately pulled into the alley, and parked behind the bar. By the time he got back, the van and the back door were both closed, but the door was unlocked.

Pike hit the speed dial on his phone for Jon Stone, and Stone answered with a single word.

“Go.”

Pike closed his phone, stepped inside, and found himself in a hall crowded with stacked boxes. A larder to his left was filled with more beer, tap kegs, booze, and other supplies, and a tiny food and dishwashing area was to his right. The Latin guy who had been smoking out in the alley glanced at him with tired eyes from an industrial-sized dishwasher. Pike stepped into the door, and spoke quietly.

“Police. We’re going to arrest everyone here, but you can go. Walk away now.”

One look at Pike, the man did not hesitate. He put down his towel, squeezed past, and immediately left the building. Pike locked the door behind him.

Farther along the hall was a small dressing room for the dancers, a couple of restrooms, and a swinging door. The restrooms and dressing room were all empty. The dressing room smelled of mildew. Pike heard voices coming from the front of the club, but no music or other sounds.

Pike pushed through the swinging door. The lights were on, the stage was empty, and the music was off. The three men from the parking lot were crowded around a bar table with a fourth man and Vasa, who was holding a wet towel to his face. The furry man was behind the bar, maneuvering a beer keg into place. Pike had entered so quietly the men at the tables did not hear him, but the furry man caught the movement, and stood.

He said, “We’re closed. You’ll have to leave.”

The men at the tables all looked over, and Vasa saw Pike. He lurched to his feet as if someone had kicked him.

“That’s him. The fuckin’ guy-”

The four men at the tables didn’t move. The muscular guy didn’t reach for his gun. They sat perfectly still.

Pike said, “I’m looking for Michael Darko.”

The oldest was a heavy man with large bones, thick wrists, and small eyes. Three of the four wore short-sleeved shirts, two showing skin that had been inked up with Eastern Bloc prison tats back in the old country.

The oldest man said, “I have never heard of this man. You have come to the wrong place.”

Two vinyl billfolds identical to the ones Pike took from Vasa were on the bar, along with a brown leather briefcase. Just sitting there, as if someone was in the middle of business when Vasa rushed in to tell his story. Pike moved toward the bar, and the muscular man stood.

He said, “Get the fuck out of here.”

When Pike reached the end of the bar, the furry man behind the bar shoved the beer keg aside and charged. He threw up his forearms like an offensive lineman blocking a defensive back, but Pike slipped to the side, pushed the man’s elbow down and away, caught his head, and rolled him into the floor. Third of a second once contact was made, and Pike was on his feet, watching the muscular man rush toward him in slow motion as the three other men, even more slowly, jumped to their feet.

The muscular man reached under his shirt even as he pushed past the tables. Pike did not try to stop the gun; he rolled his hand under the man’s wrist, drove the man’s arm over and back, and pulled him backward and down. Pike had the gun before the man slammed into the floor, and hit him on the forehead with it two hard times, even as Jon Stone’s voice cut through the gloom.

“Freeze, motherfuckers!”

The three men at the tables, on their feet now, raised their hands.

Jon stood just inside the door with an M4 carbine, painted up nicely in desert camo. Never taking his eyes from the men, Stone closed and locked the door, sealing the building. He grinned at Pike.

“Always wanted to say