Stone stopped three doors away, parking behind a pet store. A white delivery van was parked behind the Glo-Room, though the only person they saw was a middle-aged Latin man in a stained white T-shirt. He was standing between the truck and the building, smoking.

Pike turned in his seat so he could see Rina.

“Darko owns this place?”

“One of his men own it, but, yes, it will belong to Michael. The other men run it, but Michael he get the money.”

“You know the people who work here?”

She shook her head, then shrugged.

“No, I don’t think so. I know of this place, but I never been here. Michael, he have three or four places like this. Maybe more.”

They started rolling again, and drifted past the delivery truck. They drove all the way to the next cross street, turned around, and came back from the opposite direction. They stopped with an easy view of the side lot and delivery truck. A back door used for deliveries and service help was cracked open on the alley, but the white van blocked the building’s interior from view. The BMW was parked outside a door on the side of the building, which appeared to be the bar’s main entrance. A dark gray Audi sedan and a silver Mercedes were parked near the Beemer, and now three men were standing outside the door. Two of the three were large guys wearing loose shirts that hung over their bellies. The third man was younger, with hard, muscular shoulders.

Pike turned enough to see Rina.

“Know them?”

“That one in the middle, maybe I seen him before, but maybe not. Other two, no, for sure.”

The one in the middle wore gold chains, and appeared to be the focus of attention.

Stone said, “You see it?”

Pike nodded.

Rina said, “See what?”

Cole said, “The muscle has a gun in his belt.”

The three men finished their conversation, then the two big men went into the bar, and the muscular guy walked back to the delivery van. He slapped the side twice, then stepped away as the van’s rear door opened. A burly guy with a monumental belly climbed out, showing a mat of dark hair on his arms and neck. He hoisted three cases of Budweiser, and brought them into the bar. The muscular guy leaned into the van, came out with three more cases, and followed him inside.

Rina said, “They steal the beer to sell, you see? He buy some, but he have people who steal.”

This fit with what George described. Darko resold merchandise stolen by hijack crews. Alcohol went to 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.