“It will hurt worse the next time.”

Grebner sucked deep breaths, and shook his head to gather himself. A spray of fine blood speckled the wall.

“I know you want Darko, but what are you doing here, man? You want some money? I can give you money.”

Pike dug at the nerve again, and this time Grebner screamed. His face went bloodred to purple, and he kicked spastically, but Pike held him down. And then released the pressure.

“Not money. Darko.”

Grebner sobbed, still shaking his head.

“I do not know. I call him. I call the number. That is all I know. He tells no one his whereabouts for this very reason. You can beat me all you like, but I cannot say. You are not the first who wants to find him.”

“Jakovich?”

Grebner’s eyes narrowed as if Pike had finally surprised him. He glanced at his men and then toward the front door, almost as if he couldn’t believe he was in this position and if he only pretended hard enough Pike would go away.

“You got no idea what you are saying.”

“How about if I say, ‘Kalashnikov’?”

Grebner slowly opened his mouth, staring as if Pike were mystical.

“How can you know these things?”

“Are the rifles in Los Angeles?”

Grebner did not answer. He was still trying to figure out how Pike knew.

Pike reached for his shoulder, and Grebner jerked.

“Yes! Yes, this is what I hear. I don’t know this—I don’t see them—but this is what I am told.”

As Grebner answered, Cole reappeared, now carrying a grocery bag tucked under his arm. He motioned Pike over, and spoke so Grebner couldn’t hear.

“The guns are here?”

“That’s what he says.”

“How about Darko? He have a location?”

“He has a pager number. That’s it.”

Cole patted the bag.

“I scooped some billing records and files, but it’s lame. I don’t know if this will help.”

Pike and Cole returned to Grebner, who was watching them like a cornered rat would watch circling dogs.

Pike said, “Where are the guns?”

“How would I know? The old one. He has them.”

“Jakovich.”

“You do this for the guns? You want to steal them, buy them, what? Who are you working for?”

“Frank Meyer.”

“I don’t know a Frank Meyer. Who’s that?”

“Darko sent a crew to a house in Westwood almost a week ago. Do you know about that?”

“Of course, I know. This was Frank Meyer’s house?”

“Frank, his wife Cindy, their two little boys. Darko’s crew murdered them after his son was snatched.”

Now Grebner’s eyes narrowed again.

“Michael’s son?”

Pike nodded, but this seemed to confuse Grebner even more.

“Michael has no children. This was the old man’s child he took.”