Michael Darko was waiting for them at the end of Market Street in Venice. Market was lined with diagonal parking spaces, and died at the Venice boardwalk, just around the corner from the Sidewalk Café. Cole suggested it because he liked the pizza, but Darko agreed because the location was busy with tourists, street performers, and locals.

Two black Beemer sedans and a black Escalade were hunkered together, taking up most of the spaces.

Cole said, “Don’t these guys know any color but black?”

Pike pulled up beside the Beemers, and got out. Cole stayed in the Jeep. As Pike got out, both Beemers opened, and Darko and three of his men emerged.

Darko stared at Cole.

“Who is this?”

“He’s going to help me check the rifles. Jakovich expects it.”

Pike gave him the handheld locator and showed him how it worked. It showed a circle of green light on a map.

“This is how you follow us. See the light? That’s us. Don’t follow too close because Jakovich might see you. Hang back. Use this to stay with us.”

Darko and two of his men had a conversation about the device, which Pike didn’t understand, and then Darko opened the Beemer’s back door. He took out a gym bag that was much larger than the one Walsh delivered.

“The money. Count it, you want.”

Banded packs of hundred-dollar bills filled the bag. Pike didn’t bother to count.

“Don’t need to count it. We take the guns, you’re getting it back.”

Darko smiled, then winked at his friends.

“You know, this works, maybe you and me, we will do business again.”

Pike said, “I doubt it.”

Darko was thoughtful.

“So tell me something. How are you going to deliver me to Jakovich?”

“I told him you think I’m going to sell the guns to you. I told him I would set up the meet with you, and when you showed up, his guys could kill you.”

Pike made a pistol of his hand, pointed at Darko, and pulled the trigger.

Darko seemed to realize what Pike had said, and slowly looked around at the surrounding buildings.

Pike said, “We’d better go. He’s waiting.”

Pike got back into the Jeep and headed for the marina.

Chapter 43

43

PIKE COULD SEE THEM in the rearview, eight or ten cars back, but the three large black vehicles bunched together looked like a freight train.

Cole phoned Jon Stone and described their cars.

“Two Beemer sedans and an Escalade, all black. You reading us okay?”

Cole listened for a minute, then closed his phone.

“They’re clear. We’re clear. He’ll pass it to Walsh.”