He cleaned himself as best he could, then went into the mall. He bought a throwaway cell phone, extra batteries, and a prepaid calling card good for two hours. Seated on a bench outside a kitchen store, Pike spent ten minutes activating the phone and loading the prepaid calling time, then called Elvis Cole.

Cole’s phone rang four times, a long time for Cole because he didn’t recognize the incoming number.

“Elvis Cole.”

“It’s me. Where’s Rina?”

“With Yanni. I brought her back after our tour.”

“Do me a favor, and go get them. The ATF knows I was at their building, and suspects I was seeing a source. They want the source.”

Cole made a soft whistle.

“How do you know?”

“I just spent three hours with them.”

Pike sketched out what he found at Willowbrook, what happened when Walsh had him picked him up, and the information she gave him about Darko.

“This is no longer about some gangster murdering people in their homes—they’re bringing three thousand Kalashnikovs into the country. That’s why the Feds are involved.”

Cole said, “I’ll get them. You want me to bring them to my place?”

“For now. I’ll have a place for them by the time I get there.”

Pike phoned Jon Stone next. Stone’s phone rang five times before his voice mail answered, and Pike waited for the beep.

“It’s Pike. You there?”

Stone answered, talking loud over Nine Inch Nails.

“Fuck, man, I didn’t recognize the number.”

“Someone’s been able to find me without following me, Jon. That’s why I’m using a different phone. I think the Jeep might be bad.”

Nine Inch Nails vanished.

“You driving it now?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t come here. I’ll meet you.”

Twenty minutes later, Pike arrived at a car wash on Santa Monica Boulevard in West Hollywood, and pulled around back to the detailing bays as Stone had instructed. In the rear of the car wash, they couldn’t be seen from the street.

Stone’s black Rover was in one of the bays, and two young Latin men were detailing a black Porsche in another. Stone was with them, laughing about something when he saw Pike arrive. He pointed at the empty bay on the far side of his Rover, and that’s where Pike parked. One of the young men was sleeved out with gang tats. Neither looked over as Pike climbed from his Jeep.

Stone opened the back of his Rover and took out a long aluminum tube with a movable mirror jointed to a pod containing sensors and antennas. Jon’s security work often required him to scan for explosives and multiplatform surveillance devices. Jon was a pro, and had the equipment to accomplish his mission.

He swept the pod under the Jeep, talking to Pike as he watched a dial in the handle.

“You find these fucks?”

“Found the crew. They were dead.”