“All right, he will make the deal with you, but still you call me.”

“He wants the money in cash. I don’t have it.”

“Ah.”

“I can buy them for five hundred each—that’s one-point-five million dollars. And you have a buyer in place who will pay a thousand—the Armenians.”

“But you don’t have enough to buy them.”

“No. He wants half the cash before he will take me to the guns. That’s seven-fifty. I thought of you. Maybe you have it, but he won’t deal with you. So we partner.”

“I don’t like being partners with you.”

“I don’t like being partners with you, but business is business. This is why I offered a bonus.”

“Jakovich.”

“Once he sees the cash, Jakovich, the guns, and the money will be in one place. If we partner, you can be in that place, too, only he won’t know it. Then you can solve your problem, we can keep all the money, and you can be the head pakhan.”

“So what you’re saying is we will steal the guns.”

“It saves a lot of money.”

Darko studied him, and Pike knew he was considering it.

“What of your friend?”

“I miss him, but this is three million dollars, a third for me, that’s a million. I don’t have to like you.”

“I will think about it.”

“You’re either in or you’re not. If not, then I’ll find another partner. Maybe Odessa.”

A flash of irritation shadowed Darko’s face, but he nodded.

“All right. When it is time, call me. I will have the cash.”

Darko motioned to his men and walked away without another word.

Pike closed the Jeep, and watched them. He was vaguely aware of the bodyguards, but they were as inconsequential as a passing thought. He focused on Darko. Darko had done these things, and now Pike had an obligation to Frank. The obligation existed because they carried each other’s slack and trusted their teammates would pick them up if they fell. No one was left behind, which meant the obligation extended beyond logic and reason. It was an obligation made to the living that remained in death. Pike had spent much time thinking about these things, and decided it was a matter of karmic balance.

Pike let Darko walk away. He felt a stab of regret about the the deal he made with Walsh, but he needed something from her maybe even more than he needed to kill Darko.

Pike climbed back into his Jeep, and called her as he pulled into traffic.

“I need to see you.”

“A red Jeep Cherokee was seen leaving a scrap yard in Lake View Terrace yesterday. Was that you?”

“Yes.”

“Damnit, did you kill five people up there?”

“Six. I need seven hundred fifty thousand dollars.”

“What the fuck are you doing?”