When Pike finished, he returned to the bar and checked the vinyl billfolds. They were filled with cash. He opened the briefcase. More cash, a metal skimmer used to steal credit card information, and what looked like business papers. He put the two pistols and the other things he had taken from the men into the briefcase, closed it, then carried it back to the men. They watched him the way a cat trapped by a window watches a bird.

Pike said, “Darko?”

The older man shook his head.

“You are making a mistake.”

Behind them, Stone’s voice was soft.

“Maybe these fuckers were there that night. Maybe one of them gunned Frank.”

Pike said, “Vasa, do you remember my name?”

“You are Pike.”

The older man said, “You are dead man.”

Stone snapped the M4 into the back of his head. The man fell like a bag of wet towels and did not move. Vasa and the other man stared at his unconscious form for a moment, and now their eyes were frightened.

Pike dangled the briefcase, showing them.

“Everything Darko owns is mine. Darko is mine. This bar is mine. If you’re here when I come back, I’ll kill you.”

The other big man, the one still awake, squinted as if Pike was hidden by fog.

“You are insane.”

“Close this place now. Lock it. Tell him I’m coming.”

Pike left with the briefcase, and Stone followed him out. They went directly to Pike’s Jeep, then drove around the corner to Stone’s Rover. When they stopped, Stone opened the briefcase. He pushed the cash packs aside, and frowned.

“Hey, what is this shit?”

Pike fingered through the pages, clocking the columns of numbers organized by business, and realized what they had.

“Our next targets.”

He opened his phone to call Cole.

Chapter 28

28

THEY MET BACK AT Cole’s house to go through the papers. Rina recog nized them immediately.

“They are gas stations.”

Stone said, “What the fuck?”

Cole thought the pages were bookkeeping ledgers, accounting for income from All-American Best Price Gas, Down Home Petroleum, and Super Star Service.

Cole said, “Super Star Service is right down the hill in Hollywood. One of those indie places.”

Rina nodded.

“You see? He make much money there. Very much. Maybe more than anywhere else.”

Stone said, “Bullshit. How much dough can he make selling gas?”

“You are an idiot. He not make the money selling gas. He steals the credit card information.”

Cole said, “It’s a skimmer rip-off. He’s doing credit card fraud.”