the program.”
“Was there a mob or cartel connection?”
“Not from what I saw in the coverage. Two principals were named in the indictment, a cat named Darnel and a doctor named Fundt. They were amateurs—slimeballs who thought they were smart.”
“Both convicted?”
“Convicted, sentenced, and put away, but get this—both were murdered during their incarceration.”
Pike’s phone suddenly buzzed with an incoming call.
“Hang on. It’s Carly.”
Pike put Cole on hold, and took Carly’s call.
“Pike.”
“They’re back! It’s the 4Runner! They’re back!”
The words came in a rush, her voice excited and tight.
Pike immediately started the Jeep, but kept his voice calm. Panic bred panic. Calm inspired calm. These were lessons he learned in the battle space.
“Are you safe?”
With no change in his tone, Pike swung the Jeep through a hard turn, and jammed on the gas.
“I think so. They left.”
“I’m coming now. Hang on—”
He left her on hold and toggled to Cole.
“She’s at Izzy’s. The SUV’s back.”
“You still up in the Valley?”
“Yes.”
“I’m close. Leaving now.”
Pike flipped back to Carly.
“Elvis is coming, too. I want you to leave. Walk or drive, doesn’t matter. Go.”
Carly hesitated, and Pike knew she was peeking out the window.
“The mailman is across the street. A lady is walking her dog. I’m okay. They’re gone.”
Pike slowed for a red, but did not stop. A gap opened between cars. He powered through, and veered around a truck.
“They might come back. I want you to leave.”
“They must be looking for Izzy. If they had her, they wouldn’t be here, right? She must have escaped.”
“We don’t know, Carly. We don’t know why they came. Leave. Don’t stay.”
“I’m okay. Really.”
Pike said, “Carly.”
“It wasn’t gray like in the picture. It was blue, like a midnight blue. I got some of the license number—”
Pike weaved through traffic, flashing past cars as if they were parked.
“Six, U, J, B. I couldn’t see the rest.”
Six-U-J-B matched the first four digits of the 4Runner in Ekizian’s video.
“You should leave.”
“If they come back, I’ll get the rest of their license number.”
Pike was getting a headache.
“Call the police. Tell them the men in the car are stalking you, and you fear for your life. Do it, Carly. Do it now.”
“I don’t want to scare them away. If they come back, we can catch them.”
A stabbing pain punched through his eye. Staying calm was a test.
A freeway entrance was coming fast, but a line of cars clogged the ramp. Pike swung onto the shoulder, and powered around them.
“Say your location.”
“Inside. I’m in the living room.”
“If you’re not going to leave or call the police, go outside. Stand on the porch. Stay in plain view where people can see you.”
“I’m starting to feel silly.”
“The porch. Please.”
“Okay. I’m on the porch. I waved at the mailman.”
She giggled, but it sounded brittle.
Pike careened between cars and blasted ahead.
“Okay. Stay outside. Wave at everyone. I’m coming.”
“You’re funny.”
Pike checked the time. He was twenty-two, twenty-three minutes away, but Elvis was closer. Eight minutes, ten minutes, tops, and Elvis would reach her.
“Carly? You still waving?”
She giggled again.
“No, silly. I’d feel stupid.”
Pike flashed past cars as if they were parked. He didn’t feel funny or stupid. He felt helpless.
28.
Elvis Cole
Cole pulled out of the parking garage and turned toward Sunset. He hadn’t taken the time to put on his shoulder holster. It sat wrapped in the light cotton jacket he wore to cover it on the passenger seat.
Traffic was lousy, but bad traffic in Los Angeles had become the new normal. He drove aggressively, ducked up side streets to avoid the worst of it, and made good time.
Cole was less than half a mile from Carly when he changed lanes and noticed the tan sedan. He had seen the sedan twice before, and thought nothing of it. The first time, the sedan had been ahead of him, waiting to turn from a cross street. The sedan had turned when he passed, and joined the flow of traffic two cars behind him. The second time, Cole ducked down a side street to avoid a construction site, and the sedan made the same turn. Other cars were taking the same side street, so Cole wrote it off.
But here they were again, two cars back.
Cole was in the right-hand lane. He put on his left blinker, and moved into the left lane as if he planned to make a left turn. The sedan drifted into the left lane. Two blocks later, Cole put on his right blinker, and eased into the right lane. He slowed as he neared the next cross street as if he