The Sentry - By Robert Crais Page 0,91

bush.

I am here.

Pike quietly closed the distance until he was directly behind the man, then pushed the Python into Vincent’s side.

Pike knew the man was dead by the stillness of the body, and realized in that moment the man was not Vincent.

Pike tensed, his muscles rigid against the bullet he expected, but the shot didn’t come.

The corpse was an older man with matted gray hair and a small-caliber bullet hole in his temple. Fresh kill, still warm with life. Bait.

Then Pike heard Dru shout, and William Rainey call her name.

Daniel

Daniel studied the distant slope through his rifle scope, whispering to himself.

“I got you, you sonofabitch. C’mon. Lemme see your lame ass.”

The van was one hundred sixty-two yards in front of him. Daniel had paced it off. He was wedged between two dying trees on the south side of Mulholland, high on a sharp slope with nothing but rocks at his back and a long, steep slide below. Pike would never set up in a shitty, no-way-out spot like this, so he’d figure Daniel would avoid it, too. Which was why Daniel had picked it.

Daniel knew Pike was somewhere in the brush. Eight minutes earlier, he had caught a flash of gray movement on the next ridge, there and gone in a heartbeat. So now Daniel scoped the brush and the ridge and the area around the dead guy. Daniel wanted Pike to find the dead guy. Pike saw that rifle, he might take a shot, then Daniel would have him. Might try to get in closer, and Daniel would catch the movement. But so far, nothing.

Daniel had left the damned rifle sticking so far out of the bush, a cub scout could have found the stiff by now. Daniel was beginning to think maybe this Joe Pike wasn’t as good as he had believed.

Tobey said, “The waitress, Daniel.”

Cleo said, “Show him the waitress, waitress.”

Tobey and Cleo were a couple of royal-ass pains, but sometimes they had good ideas. If he brought the waitress out early, Pike might change his position. Bang.

Daniel eased out his handi-talkie and called her like he had told her he would.

“You hear me?”

Her voice came back all tinny with static.

“I hear you. Is Willie here?”

“Come out. You’re gonna go home.”

Tobey said, “Here he comes.”

Cleo said, “There he is, is.”

Daniel thought they were talking about Pike, but they weren’t.

The Prius swung around a curve less than a quarter-mile away. Daniel thought maybe he should tell her to stay in the van, but decided to let her come.

He keyed the talk button again.

“Get outta the damn van, woman. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

The back door swung open as Daniel scanned the brush for movement.

Elvis Cole

Elvis Cole was scrunched so far down in the Prius’s back seat he couldn’t see anything, not even the back of Bill Rainey’s head.

“You see the van?”

“Yeah, we’re almost there. Don’t worry.”

The criminal with a Bolivian cartel after him telling Cole not to worry. Perfect.

“Make sure that gun is hidden. He sees the gun, you’re history.”

“Relax, for Christ’s sake. I’m fine.”

They had given Rainey a gun. They had also strapped him into a ballistic vest. They wouldn’t put him in Gregg Daniel Vincent’s crosshairs with nothing.

Rainey said, “We’re here. I’m turning.”

They bumped off the pavement onto the ridge. A cloud of dust swirled in through the open windows. The windows were down in case Cole had to shoot.

Then Rainey slammed on the brakes.

“The fuck? She’s already out. I was supposed to get out first.”

Cole saw Rainey’s head popping left and right, as if he thought Vincent would jump from a bush. Cole wanted to look, but knew Vincent would be watching their car.

“Take it easy. What’s she doing?”

“Looking at me. She’s waving her hands.”

“Is anyone in the van?”

“I can’t see.”

“Check our sides. Look for Vincent.”

“Fuck this! She’s running! She’s trying to get away!”

Rainey suddenly kicked open his door, and pushed out of the car.

“Rose! Ro—”

Cole heard the first shot.

Pike stood when he heard them shouting. Below him, Rose Platt ran toward the Prius as Rainey ran toward her, the two of them separated by almost one hundred yards.

Pike broke hard by a sage, trying to draw Vincent’s fire. He cut back through the brush just as a sharp crack broke the twilight silence, rolling across the purple canyons. Pike heard the bullet snap past, then dove into the rocks, rolled, and kept running, breaking left and right down the slope.

Rose Platt and Rainey stopped at the sound of the shot. Then Elvis Cole came