Stone said, “Tell you what, let’s table that for now. You go ahead, ask, we’ll see what develops.”

“Remember Frank Meyer?”

“Fearless Frank, my man on the tanks? Sure.”

“Has Frank been working?”

“Frank was one of your guys. You tell me.”

“Has he been on the market?”

“He retired ten years ago, at least.”

“So you haven’t heard any rumors?”

“Like what?”

“Like Frank getting involved with people you wouldn’t expect.”

Jon snorted.

“Fearless Frank? Get control of yourself.”

“He didn’t like being called Fearless Frank. It made him uncomfortable.”

Stone lapsed into silence, probably embarrassed, and Pike went on.

“Less than two hours ago, a police detective named Terrio told me Frank was dirty. He believes Frank was using his import business for something illegal.”

“Why was a cop talking about Frank?”

“Frank and his family were murdered.”

Stone was silent for a time, and when he spoke again, his voice was low.

“For real?”

“A robbery crew broke into their home two nights ago. Frank, his wife, their kids. They zero in on targets with a cash payoff—dope dealers, money launderers, like that. Frank wasn’t their first.”

“I’ll ask around, I guess. I can’t believe Frank went wrong, but I’ll ask.”

“Another thing. You have juice with Fugitive Section or Special Investigations?”

Now Stone grew wary.

“Why?”

“You know why, Jon. If Terrio’s task force has any suspects, Fugitive Section or SIS will be trying to find them. I want to know what they have.”

Fugitive Section detectives specialized in tracking down and apprehending wanted felons in high-risk situations. Special Investigation Section were elite operators who ran long-term, covert surveillance on criminals suspected of committing violent serial crime. With their expertise, skill, and experience, retired Fugitive Section and SIS operators commanded top dollar at private security firms, and Jon Stone had placed more than a few into fat corporate jobs.

Stone hesitated, and Pike listened to the N.W.A tracks behind him, back in the day before Ice Cube went legit.

“C’mon, Jon. You have ins with those guys.”

Stone cleared his throat, sounding uncomfortable.

“I might have a friend who has a friend. I’m just saying, is all.”

“I need this information before they make an arrest.”

Stone lapsed into another silence, and now seemed thoughtful when he spoke.

“I guess you would, then, Joseph.”

“Frank was one of my guys.”

“Listen, that business about Frank, I have an idea. Ask Lonny. Lonny might know.”

Lonny Tang. The man who had taken the picture in El Salvador. Thirteen days later, on a job in Kuwait, Frank Meyer would save Lonny Tang’s life on what would turn out to be Lonny’s last job.

Pike said, “Why would Lonny know?”

“Frank kept in touch with him. You didn’t know? He sent Lonny Christmas cards, stuff like that. I’ll bet you ten bucks his wife never knew.”