The Sentry - By Robert Crais Page 0,87

bullshit threats, La Eme this, La Eme that, and that’s when I got the idea.”

“Azzara.”

“Yeah. I was in business with drug traffickers for years, and all traffickers have the same problems. I laid it out for him. Here’s what I can do for you, but here’s what you gotta do for me.”

“Make the Bolivians back off.”

“Yeah.”

Rainey took a moment, then shook his head.

“That’s how bad they hate me, those fuckers. Now they got a war with this Baja cartel, and they don’t even give a shit.”

Pike cut him off.

“Play her last message.”

Dru’s third and final message was more desperate. Her voice showed the mounting stress as she gulped shallow breaths, and Pike could hear her fear.

“Stop it now, Willie, you hear? You must call me at six o’clock. I’m begging you. Please get this done. You know how to get it done. You don’t call, he says he’ll kill me.”

Her call abruptly ended.

None of them spoke for a moment, then Rainey stared at Pike.

“You asked why I called you. When she says, get this done, you know how to get this done. She’s telling me to call you. That’s when I called.”

Pike didn’t understand.

Rainey frowned, showing a weakness in his eyes that told Pike he was embarrassed.

“When this started with the bangers and you waded in, she told me you were the kind of guy who could get stuff done. She liked that.”

Pike studied him until Rainey looked away, then Pike took the phone. He checked the time. Ten minutes before six. Time was running out.

Pike said, “Does she have a sister?”

“What?”

“Rose. She has two brothers. Does she have a sister?”

Rainey squinted like Pike was speaking in code.

“No. What does that have to do with anything?”

Cole said, “Where’s the cash?”

“I got a storage space up in Van Nuys. You want it, it’s yours. All three-forty-two.”

Cole glanced at Pike.

“This time of day, that’s two hours, there and back. No good.”

“We don’t need it.”

Rainey shifted, looking from Cole to Pike.

“What are we going to do?”

“The Bolivian, the one who wants you dead. What’s his name?”

“Jesus, it’s a cartel. It’s a whole bunch of guys.”

Cole leaned forward and tapped Rainey’s head.

“Think. Who did you rip off? Who’s the alpha male?”

“It’s gotta be Hugo Joaquin. He was runnin’ it. Who gives a shit? What are we going to do?”

Pike checked the time. Three minutes. He had what he needed.

“I’m ready.”

Rainey said, “Ready for what?”

Cole tapped Rainey again.

“Get out. We’re waiting outside.”

“For what? What’s he going to do?”

Pike checked the time again. One minute to go.

“This is the part where I sell you.”

Cole climbed out, pulled Rainey out the front, then closed the door, leaving Pike alone with the phone.

On the other side of the parking lot, a family got out of an SUV and went into the diner. The father carried a curly-headed little girl on his shoulders. Fifty feet away, cars crept along Sunset Boulevard, jammed up by rush hour. Pike blocked all of it out and called Dru Rayne.

44

She answered on the third ring. Pike figured it took one ring for Gregg Daniel Vincent to show her the incoming number, one for her to confirm this was Rainey, and the third for Vincent to punch the answer button and hold the phone to her ear. Her voice sounded tentative.

“Hello?”

“Is he listening?”

Saying it for Vincent.

A full twenty seconds passed before she answered, which was probably Vincent figuring out what to do.

“Yes, he’s listening. Where’s Willie? Willie was supposed to call.”

“Willie can’t call. You good?”

“Ah, yeah, I’m okay. He hasn’t hurt me.”

“Give him the phone.”

“He, ah, he doesn’t want to talk. If Willie doesn’t call, he’s going to hurt me.”

“No, he won’t. I have Rainey and the money, but mostly I have Rainey.”

“Ah, he wants to know who you are.”

“Tell him.”

Pike heard her tell Vincent his name. Vincent said something, but too low for Pike to understand. They were still talking when Pike spoke again.

“What’s his name?”

“What?”

“His name?”

Another mumble in the background before she answered.

“Ah, his name is David.”

The corner of Pike’s mouth twitched.

“You’re a liar, Mr. Vincent. Your name is Gregg Daniel Vincent. Knock off the bullshit, and get on the phone. If you don’t want Rainey, I’ll sell him to the Bolivians.”

Thirty seconds of silence this time, edging to forty before a male voice came on the line.

“What’s your deal, boy? How do you know my name?”

“A friend told me.”

“I’ll kill your fuckin’ friend, you, your family, any motherfucker you’ve ever met. Your friend tell you that?”

“My friend told me you’re the

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