The entire back of Emile Grebner’s house was open. Floor-to-ceiling glass sliders had been pushed into pockets, erasing the line between inside and out, and opening the house to air and light. Two younger men and a shorter, bulky man in his fifties were in the living room, but none of them were Michael Darko. The older man wore only baggy sweatpants cut at the knee, exposing a chest and back matted with gray hair. He was doing all the talking, so Pike decided he was Grebner. Grebner was angry, and making a big production of waving his hands.

One of the younger men made the mistake of speaking, and Grebner slapped him. The slap almost knocked him down, and the younger man scurried away. He came outside, where he lit a cigarette, and leaned against the bar. Sullen.

Grebner finally ran out of gas. He picked up a phone to make a call, and the other young man hurried into the kitchen. Grebner threw down the phone, then stalked into a bathroom off the living room. He slammed the door.

When the door slammed, the man at the bar held up his middle finger. Pike touched Cole, then pointed at the man in the kitchen—that man is yours. He touched himself, then pointed at the man by the bar—that one is mine.

Cole nodded, Pike returned his nod, and both moved without hesitation, Pike moving first to clear a path for Cole.

Pike slipped up behind the man at the bar, hooked his left arm around the man’s neck, and lifted.

Pike said, “Sh.”

A shape flickered at the edge of Pike’s peripheral vision as Cole passed, but Pike was focused on his target. The man struggled, but Pike lifted him higher, compressing the carotid artery to cut off the blood to his brain, and in a few seconds the man went to sleep. Pike laid him behind the bar, and bound his hands behind his back with a plasti-cuff.

Pike glimpsed Cole putting the other man down as he moved for the living room. He reached the bathroom and placed himself behind the door only a second before it opened, and Grebner stepped out.

Pike slapped him behind the right ear with the .357, and Grebner pitched forward. He hit the terrazzo hard on his hip, but didn’t go all the way down, crabbing away on his ass until he bumped into the wall. Pike hadn’t wanted him out. Pike wanted him awake.

Cole stepped out of the kitchen, glancing at Grebner but otherwise ignoring him.

“I’ll clear the house.”

Cole disappeared, leaving Grebner to Pike. You never knew—someone could be hiding in a closet.

Pike looked at Grebner. Grebner’s eyes went to the Python, to Pike’s arms, to Pike.

“Who the fuck are you?”

Pike opened his phone.

“ We’re good.”

Stone said, “I’m here if you need me, cocked and locked, brother man.”