know. Your thing, you'd get top dollar, too. They need people like you in the Middle East.' 'Two thousand.' 'I can probably find someone who knows this guy, but I might have to call all over the goddamned world. I'm not wasting my time for a few bucks. I'm going to have costs.' 'Five thousand.' It was an outrageous amount, but Pike already knew that the man wanted more than money. Pike hoped that the figure would be persuasive. 'Pike, I wouldn't be Fallon on a bet, you and your facetoface. I don't care if he's Delta or not. But you have to see it from my side--if something happens to this guy, your Fed buddies will use this little transaction between us to hammer me as an accessory before the fact or maybe even a co-conspirator. I got no friends over there.' 'No one is listening.' 'Yeah, right.' Pike didn't respond. Pike had learned that if he didn't say anything, people often told themselves what they wanted to hear. 'Tell you what, I'll ask around, but you gotta let me book a job for you. I don't know what or when, but one day I'll call. That's it. That's my price. If I find someone who can help you with the face-to-face, you gotta go. Yes, no, I don't give a shit. That's what it costs.' Pike regretted calling this number. He wished that it had been disconnected like the others. He considered trying to find someone else, but the first seven numbers had given him nothing. Ben was waiting. Elvis was waiting. The weight of their need kept him on the phone. 'C'mon, Pike, it isn't just the calls. I haven't heard from you in ten years. If I find somebody who's dealt with 229
him, I'll have to vouch for you.'
A Zen fountain sat on a polished black table in the corner of Pike's living room. It was a small bowl filled with water and stones. The water burbled between the stones with the gentle sounds of a forest stream. Pike listened to the burble. It sounded like peace.
'You knew it was coming, Pike. That's why you called. I'm jamming you up with this, but that's what you wanted. You're looking for something, and it isn't just Fallon. We both know what you want.'
Pike watched the water move in the little fountain. He
wondered if the man was right.
'All right.'
'Give me your number. I'll call back when I have something.'
Pike gave the man his cell phone number, then stripped off his clothes. He brought the phone into his bathroom so he could hear it from the shower. He let hot water beat into his back and shoulder, and tried his best to think about nothing.
Forty-six minutes later, the phone rang. The man gave him a name and an address, and told him that it had been arranged.
3o
CHAPTER 18
time missing: 48 hours, 09 minutes
Two messages were waiting on my answering machine when I got home. I hoped that Joe or Starkey or maybe even Ben had called, but one was Grace Gonzalez from next door, asking if she could do anything to help, and the other was Crom Johnson's mother, returning my call. I didn't feel strong enough to talk to either.
From my deck I could see that Chen's van was back on the ridge across from my house, along with a second SID van and a Hollywood Division radio car. Several of the construction workers stood by the vans, watching downhill as Chen and the others worked.
Normal people bring in their mail after they get home from work, so that's what I did. Normal people have a glass of milk, take a shower, then change into fresh clothes. I did that, too. It felt like pretending.
I was eating a turkey sandwich in front of the television when my phone rang. I grabbed it, thinking that it was Joe, but it wasn't.
'This is Bill Stivic from the Army's Department of Personnel in St. Louis. I'm calling for Elvis Cole, please.'
Master Sergeant Bill Stivic, USMC, retired. It felt like weeks since I had spoken with him. It had only been that morning.
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I glanced at the time. It was past business hours for a government office in St. Louis. He was calling on his own dime.
'Hi, Master Sergeant. Thanks for getting back to me.' 'No problem. It seemed pretty important to you.' 'It is.'
'Okay, well, here's what we have--first, like I told you this morning, anyone can have the 2z4, but we never send the zo to anyone except you unless it's by court order or we get a request from a law enforcement agency, you remember?'
'I remember.'
'The records here show that we telefaxed your file to a police detective named Carol Starkey out where you live in Los Angeles. That was yesterday.'
'That's right. I spoke with Starkey today.'
'Okay, the only other request we've had for your files was eleven weeks ago. We were served with a State court
order by a judge named Rulon Lester in New Orleans.' 'A judge in New Orleans.'
'That would be it. Both your ox and 2z4 were sent to his office at the State Superior Court Building in New Orleans.'
Another dead end. I thought of Richard waving the manila folder. The bastard had gone all out to check up on me.
'Those are the only two times my files have been sent. You're sure they couldn't have been sent to anyone else.'
