The Down Home was too low-rent for a glass barrier. A tall Anglo kid sat behind a counter, unshaven, shaggy, and looking as if he’d rather be having surgery. Had a friend keeping him company. A shorter, stockier guy about the same age kicked back in a chair propped against the wall. Pike heard them talking when he entered, and recognized accents similar to Rina’s, though not as pronounced. A flicker of recognition flashed in their eyes when he mentioned Darko, and the kid behind the counter raised his hands.

“Hey, man, I just work here.”

His friend smiled stupidly, incredulous.

“Dude. Are you robbing us?”

The counter kid glared lasers at the friend.

“Shut up before you get us killed.”

Civilians, or so far out of the loop they might as well have been.

Six pumps, twelve skimmers, eight keypads rigged to steal PIN numbers. Pike figured they knew the pumps were rigged, or knew enough to guess, but neither tried to interfere. Pike was gone in seven minutes, and met up with Cole and Stone at the Studio City park.

When Stone saw the number of skimmers Pike had collected, he whistled.

“Man, we should bill LAPD for this.”

They killed the next two hours at Cole’s house, then rolled down through the canyons to Hollywood. Super Star Service was located on a seedy part of Western Avenue, just north of Sunset. It was smaller than the Tarzana station, having only four pumps split between two pump islands, and shared its property with a taco stand. The stand was doing a vigorous business.

As Pike waited for Cole and Stone to recon the area, it occurred to him this was their last target. If Darko’s enforcers didn’t show, they would have to come up with something else. That’s when Cole spoke in his ear.

“Well, Joseph, I think we have company.”

“What do you see?”

“Dark blue Navigator parked across the street and a silver BMW alongside a little taco stand they have here.”

Stone’s voice came in.

“I make two men in the Beemer, and at least two in the Nav.”

Pike said, “What about the station personnel?”

Cole again.

“One male at the counter, but he’s nothing like the last kids. This guy’s all sharp corners. I don’t think you get out of the car this time.”

“No?”

“These boys are ready. I don’t know if they’ll try to take you here or follow you out, but I say we don’t give them the chance. Come in. Let them see you. Then leave. Make them follow you. Don’t give them another choice.”

“Rog. I’m rolling.”

Pike slipped his .357 from its holster, and set it between his legs.

Pike approached the station slowly, seeing both the Navigator and the BMW in his peripheral vision without looking directly at them. They had to believe he did not suspect they were waiting.