“Then let’s get squared away. Get in the backseat. You won’t be as easy to see in back.”

She looked at him as if he was an idiot.

“It’s only two o’clock.”

“I know. But we want to be prepared in case he comes early.”

She gripped her big purse. The one with the gun.

“I don’t care if he see me or not.”

“I care. Get in the back.”

She scowled again, but got out, and climbed into the backseat. Pike adjusted the mirror so he could see her.

“Can you see the entry?”

“Yes.”

“Watch.”

“It’s only two o’clock. Will be hours before he come.”

“Watch.”

He expected her to fidget or try to make conversation, but she didn’t. She sat behind him, a second presence in the car, quiet and still, watching.

They watched for an hour and ten minutes, silent, as people came and went around them, parking, backing out, pushing buggies filled high with groceries. Rina did not move or speak for the entire time, but then she suddenly pulled herself forward, and pointed past his chin.

“That window on the top floor, on the side there away from the freeway. That was mine.”

Then she settled back and said nothing more.

Pike studied her in the rearview, but only for a moment. He didn’t want her to catch him staring.

An hour and twenty minutes later, she abruptly pulled herself forward again.

“That girl. She is one of the girls there. In the green.”

A young woman in black spandex shorts and a lime green top came around the corner and went to the glass door. Her dark hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail, and a large gym bag was slung over her shoulder. On her way back from the gym. She was lean and fit, but her breasts were too large to be natural. She looked very young.

Rina said, “You see? I know this girl when they bring her here. They make her waitress, and then she dance.”

“Stripper.”

“Yes. And this.”

The girl let herself into the lobby, then pushed a button for the elevator.

Fifteen minutes later, Rina pulled forward again.

“There. In the black car.”

A black BMW convertible turned off Sepulveda and crept past the building as if looking for a parking place. The driver was a white male in his twenties with a thick neck and long, limp hair. He wore a white shirt with the sleeves rolled, a day-old beard, and mirrored sunglasses.

Pike hit the speed dial for Cole.

Three cars away, Cole glanced over as he raised his phone.

“What’s up?”

“The black convertible.”

Cole glanced at the street.

“I’ll get Jon.”

Pike lowered the phone, but didn’t end the call. Cole was using a second phone to put Stone in the loop. They had planned on multiple phones to maintain constant contact.