Stalking The Angel

manuscript.' The guy in the brown herringbone spoke softly in Japanese, translating.

'All right.'

Bradley Warren said, 'Have you found it yet?' I had expected him to ask about the threat against his wife first, but there you go.

'No.' More mumbling from the guy in the brown herringbone.

'Are you close?'

'Hot on its trail.'

The guy in the brown herringbone frowned, and translated, and the old guys on the couch frowned, too. Bradley saw all the frowning going on and joined in. So that was where he got it. He said, 'I'm disappointed. I expected more.'

'It's been two days, Bradley. In those two days I have begun identifying people who deal in or collect feudal Japanese artwork. I will do more of that. Eventually, one of the people I contact will know something about the Hagakure, or about someone who does. That's the way it's done. Stealing something like this is like stealing the Mona Lisa. There's only a half dozen people on earth who would do it or be involved in it, and once you know who they are it's only a matter of time. Collectors make no secret about what they want, and once they have it they like to brag.'

Bradley gave the Japanese men a superior look and said, 'Harumph.'

The Japanese man sitting in the center of the couch nodded thoughtfully and said, 'I think that he has made a reasonable beginning.'

Bradley said, 'Huh?'

The Japanese man said, 'Has there been a ransom demand?' He was the oldest of the three seated men, but his eyes were clear and steady and stayed with you. His English was heavily accented.

I shook my head. 'None that I'm aware of.'

Bradley looked from the old man to me and back to the old man. 'What's this about a ransom?'

The old man kept his eyes on me. 'If a ransom is demanded, we will pay it.'

'Okay.'

'If you must pay for information, price is of no concern.'

'Okay.'

The old man looked at Bradley. 'Is this clear?'

Bradley said, 'Yes, sir.'

The old man stood, and the large men quickly moved to his side in case he needed their help. He didn't. He stared at me for a very long time, and then he said, 'You must understand this: The Hagakure is Japan. It is the heart and the spirit of the people. It defines how we act and what we believe and what is right and what is wrong and how we live and how we die. It is who we are. If you feel these things, you would know why this book must be found.'

He meant it. He meant it all the way down deep where it is very important to mean what you say. 'I'll do what I can.'

The old man kept the steady eyes on me, then mumbled something in Japanese and the other two old men stood up. No one said I'll be seeing you or Nice to have met you or See you again some time. Bradley walked the Tashiros to the door, but I don't think they looked at him. Then they were gone.

When Bradley came back, he said, 'I didn't appreciate all the smart talk in front of the Tashiros. They're nervous as hell and breathing down my neck. You'd be a lot farther along without the wit.'

'Yeah, but along to where?'

His jaw knotted but he didn't say anything. He strode over to the glass wall and looked out. Holmby Hills was due north. With a good pair of field glasses he could probably see his house. 'Now,' he said. 'My wife is frightened because of this threat she received. Do you think there's any merit to it?'

'I don't know,' I said. 'It's not professional. You steal something, you're looking at ten years. You kill someone, you're looking at life. Besides that, the cops are already in and these guys know it. If they're hanging around, that means they want something else. What else do you have that they would want?'

'Nothing.' Offended.

'Has there been any communication between you and them that I have not heard about?'

'Of course not.' Pissed.

'Then I'd treat it seriously until we know more.'

Bradley went back to his desk and began to flip through papers as if he couldn't wait to get back to work. Maybe he couldn't. 'In that case, we should expand your services. I want you to oversee the security of my family.'

'You've got Titan.'

Jillian Becker said, 'Sheila was not comfortable with Titan. They've been let go.'

I spread my hands. 'All right. I can put someone in your house.'

Bradley Warren nodded. 'Good. Just be sure that the Hagakure investigation continues to proceed.' First things first.

'Of course.'

'And the Man of the Month banquet is tomorrow,' he said. 'We can't forget that.'

'Maybe you shouldn't go.'

The frown came back and he shook his head. 'Out of the question. The Tashiros will be there.' He tamped some papers together and fingered their edges and looked thoughtful. 'Mr. Tashiro liked you. That's good. That's very, very good.' You could see the business wheels turning.

I said, 'Bradley.'

The frown.

'If someone is genuinely committed to killing you or your family, there isn't much we can do to stop them.'

The skin beneath his left eye began to tic, just like it had in my office.

'You understand that, don't you?'

'Of course.'

His phone buzzed and he picked it up. He listened for a few seconds, still staring at me, then broke into a Cheshire cat smile and asked someone on the other end of the line how the Grain Tech takeover had gone. He glanced at Jillian Becker and made a dismissal gesture with his free hand. Jillian stood up and showed me to the door. Bradley laughed very loud at something and put his feet up and said he'd like to get some of those profits into a new hotel he was building on Maui.

When we got to the door, Bradley cupped a hand over the receiver's mouthpiece, leaned out of his chair, and called, 'Cole. Keep me posted, will you?'

I said sure.

Bradley Warren uncupped the receiver, laughed like he'd just heard the best joke he'd heard all year, then swiveled back toward the big glass wall.

I left.

With the security of his family now in my trusted hands, apparently it was safe to resume business.

Chapter 8

Twenty minutes after Bradley and Jillian resumed business, I drove down to a flat, gray building on Venice Boulevard in Culver City, and parked beside a red Jeep Cherokee with a finish like polished glass. It's industrial down there, so all the buildings are flat and gray, but most of them don't have the Cherokee or an electronically locked steel door or a sign that says BARTON'S PISTOL RANGE. I had to ring a bell and someone inside had to buzz open the steel door before I could enter.

The lobby is big and bright, with high ceilings and Coke machines and posters of Clint Eastwood as Dirty Harry and Sylvester Stallone as Rambo. Someone had put up a poster of Huey, Dewey, and Louie, with a little sign on it