Ellen said, “Shouldn’t you call Sergeant Poitras?”
“Not if Duran owns somebody downtown. If all we can get is a couple of soldiers, you’ve still got a problem.”
“Then what are we going to do?”
“We get there earlier than they do. We watch them set up. we see if I’m right about their intentions. If I am, we figure a way to get Perry away from them. If I’m not, we go through with the trade and worry about Duran after you and the boy and the girls are away from here and safe.”
“What if they don’t wait?” Ellen said. “If they want these drugs and they know you have them, won’t they just come here instead?”
Pike’s mouth twitched again. For Pike, that’s a laughing fit. “It’ll cost too much,” he said. “Here, we’re dug in. Here, a cop car could roll by, there’s neighbors, bad access. In Griffith, they’re hoping we’ll be exposed. They can set up a free fire zone, snipers, ambushes, roadblocks, you name it.” You could tell he was pleased.
I cleared my throat. Loudly. “They want the dope,” I said, rationally. “I told the Eskimo it was hidden somewhere and that I’d have to get it. That’s why they won’t come.” I glared hard at Pike. “ Right? ”
Pike said, “Gonna get a guitar. Back later.” He disappeared around the front of the house. Purring.
Ellen said, “Does he play?”
I just looked at her, then went into the house and opened two Evian water. Ellen had come in and had just thanked me for the water when the phone rang. She went as white as a sheet of clean new paper.
I answered. Janet Simon said, “Elvis? It’s Janet Simon.”
I covered the mouthpiece and told Ellen it was Janet. She was relieved, but she wasn’t thrilled. She made that funny mouth gesture where she keeps the front of her lips together and blows out the sides.
“I was beginning to think you never wanted to speak to me again,” I said into the phone. Mr. Charm.
“Yes. Well.” Janet’s voice was low and measured and sounded like she never wanted to speak to me again, only now she had to. It’s a sound I’ve heard before.
“How is Ellen?” she said.
“Sitting on a rainbow.”
“Is it almost over?”
“Yep.”
“Is she keeping it together?”
“She’s doing okay.”
“I could come over.”
“Not a great idea.”
“She might need me to do something.”
I didn’t say anything. Ellen looked suspicious and uneasy and not anxious to talk. But that could have been my imagination.
Janet said, “Maybe there’s something I could do. She might have dry cleaning. She might have a prescription. She forgets things.”
I held out the phone to Ellen Lang. “For you.”
Ellen made the blowing gesture again and took the phone. She cradled the receiver into her neck beneath her jaw and said, “Hello?” She listened a while, then said, “Actually, I’m fine. How’re the girls?” Not thrilled. Definitely not thrilled.
She said, “I don’t know that yet. I don’t know if he’s dead or alive or what.”
She did not look faded or uneasy or intimidated.
“I should go now.”
She looked angry and bored.
“No, I’ll call you.”
She hung up. She did not do so lightly.
I took the two Evians out onto the deck. After a while, Ellen joined me. She said, “Janet,” as if she were going to follow it with a lot more, but then she fell silent.
An hour and forty minutes later Pike was back. Ellen and I were sitting on the edge of the deck, listening to a Lakers game and not talking about Janet Simon. The Lakers were out at Washington playing the Bullets. It sounded like a physical game. The Evian water was warm.
Pike unloaded a large green duffel bag and two olive-green guitar cases from his Jeep and carried them toward the house. Ellen went over to the side rail to watch him.
“Do you know Segovia?” she asked.
“Rock ’n roll,” he said.
He brought his things into the living room through the front door. Ellen went in, then came out a few minutes later, looking distant.
“Those aren’t guitars.”
“Nope.”
“He has guns.”
I nodded. The Lakers were down by four but Kareem had just scored six straight from inside.
She said, “You seem so calm.”
“I’m working at it.”
“I know this is what we have to do, but it seems so unreal.”
“Unh-hunh.” Fantasy in fantasyland. She said, “It’s like a war, right here in Los Angeles.”
I nodded some more.
After a very long time, she said, “I hope we kick their asses.”
I looked at her. I drank the warm Evian water. Kareem made it eight in a row.
34
It began to rain again just after four the next morning, a slow leaking drizzle that fell out of silver clouds, lit from beneath by cityglow. Pike sat at the dining table in the dark, sipping at a finger of bourbon in a tall glass. He said, “It’s about time you were up.”
I went into the little bathroom without saying anything and dressed. Levis, gray Beverly Hills Gun Club tee shirt, CJ Bass desert boots. A client had given me the Gun Club tee shirt, but I’d never worn it. When I went out to the kitchen Pike looked at the shirt and shook his head.
There was coffee in the pot and a plate of dry toast, and Pike’s big Coleman thermos, also filled with coffee. I got out a loaf of white and a half loaf of whole wheat and laid out bread for nine sandwiches. There were two packs of pressed ham, most of a pack of processed chicken, and two ham hocks left in the refrigerator. Enough for nine. I wrapped sweet gherkins and jalapeno-stuffed olives in foil, put them in a Gelson’s bag with napkins, then put the sandwiches on top. In another sack I put two six-packs of RC 100, a plastic bottle of water, cups, and some Handi Wipes.
When the food was ready, Pike took the bags out through the kitchen door and put them in his Jeep. Cold air came in through the open door. While he was out, Ellen Lang, dressed in her jeans and one of my sweatshirts, came down and sat quietly on the stairs, elbows on knees.
“How ya doing?” I said.
She nodded.
“Want some coffee?” I poured half a cup and brought that and a slice of the dry toast to her. “It’s good to have something in your stomach.”
“I don’t think I can.”
“Nibble.”
From the entry closet I took out a slicker for Ellen and a nylon rain shell for me. I put Pike’s duffel bag and the two guitar cases by the couch. The duffel bag weighed a ton. I shrugged into my shoulder holster, checked the load in the Dan Wesson, and snapped the catch. I went upstairs, found my clip-on holster, and took a 9mm Beretta automatic from the drawer beside my bed and two extra clips. Each clip held fourteen hollow-point hot loads. Pike
