The Sentry - By Robert Crais Page 0,35

him. I remember black hair. And shades. He might’ve been wearing shades.”

Jared finally ran out of gas.

“Sorry, bro. That’s all I got.”

Pike could now tie Mendoza to the scene with a picture ID. The second man was almost certainly Gomer, but Mendoza would be enough.

Pike went back to his Jeep to decide on his next play, but knew he would ultimately have to return to Button. Button was the last person to have contact with Smith. Pike wanted to know exactly what Smith said, how he had said it, and when. These things could be crucial, and so could having Button back in the game. The police would increase the pressure on Mendoza, but timing their entry was a trade-off. Once the police reinserted themselves they would block Pike’s moves and kill his momentum. He had to cover the primary plays before they came in, and keep himself ahead of the curve.

Pike fished Hector’s phone from the box, spent a few seconds figuring it out, then scrolled through the directory. He found Mendoza’s number under R MENDOZA, but nothing for GOMER or ALBERTO. No numbers were listed for AZZARA, but he found a number for MIGUEL.

Pike pressed the send button, heard two rings, and Mikie Azzara answered.

“Don’t bother me with crap at that body shop.”

Answering this way because the caller ID told him it was Hector.

Pike said, “I am here.”

Mikie hesitated.

“Who is this?”

“One of your boys wrote it on their wall.”

Azzara hesitated again, but this time he recognized Pike’s voice.

“How’d you get this phone?”

“I want Mendoza and Gomer.”

Azzara lowered his voice, as if he was someplace where he didn’t want to be overheard.

“What are you talking about?”

“Mendoza was at their home this morning. Now they’re missing.”

Azzara cleared his throat. Pike heard something in the background, but couldn’t make out what it was. Then Azzara tried to sound reassuring, which left Pike wondering why Azzara wanted to reassure him.

“Listen, I don’t know anything about this, but I will find out. I promise you—you don’t have to worry. I’m sure these people are fine.”

“You’re a liar, Miguel. You told me you covered Mendoza’s bond. You didn’t. What else are you lying about?”

“Would you listen? I’m in the middle of something now, but I will help you here, homes. Just relax. Kick back, give me a few hours, and—”

“Time’s up.”

Azzara fell silent. It was several seconds before he spoke again. Then his voice was softer, but not reassuring.

“You are making a mistake. You think you’re talking to some pretty-boy Mexican, but you are talking to La Eme. We are two hundred thousand strong. You should wait like I say. You don’t want to go to war with us.”

Pike waited him out, letting the pressure of his silence build. When Azzara finally spoke again his voice showed a strain Pike found curious.

“Are we clear on this? Do you get it?”

Pike said nothing.

“Do. You. Get. It?”

“You don’t understand.”

“What? What don’t I understand?”

“War is what I do.”

Pike hung up, then called a friend named Elvis Cole.

15

Experienced investigators referred to the site where an abduction took place as ground zero. It was the intersection where the paths of the victim and perpetrator converged, and merged into one. It was an ambush zone of abrupt furious violence or quiet threat where two paths led in and only one path led out, but these paths weren’t made in a vacuum. The physical world was disturbed—a fish rippled the water; a gliding bird cast a shadow. Pike knew this better than most because he spent most of his life trying to move without being heard or seen, or leaving a trail that others could follow. It was difficult. Jared Palmer had seen Reuben Mendoza. This was the first ripple, but Pike knew there would be others. The problem was time. Pike was building a pressure wave and riding it like a surfer shooting the green tunnel. But returning to Smith’s house to develop the trail could take hours and would diminish the pressure. The wave would collapse. Pike needed help to maintain the pressure, and believed no one was better at finding and recovering missing persons than his partner, Elvis Cole.

Cole was a licensed private investigator Pike met back in the day when Pike still wore the badge. Not the likeliest of pairings, Pike being so quiet and remote, Cole being one of those people who thought he was funny, but they were more alike than most people knew. Cole was an apprentice then, working for an old-school L.A. dick