motionless way he has.
I said, 'What?'
'They have a bathroom in here.'
He brought me into the lobby. I went into the men's room, turned on the hot water, and let it run until steam fogged the mirror. DeNice's blood was still speckled around my nails and in the creases of my skin. I washed my hands and arms with green soap, then put them under the running hot water. My hands turned bright red again, almost as red as the blood, but I kept them in the water trying to burn them clean. I washed them twice, then took off my shirt and washed my face and neck. I cupped my hands and drank, then looked at myself in the mirror but I was hidden by fog. I went back to the lobby.
We walked up three flights of stairs and into a waiting room that smelled like new carpet. Polished steel letters on the wall identified the company: THE RESNICK RESOURCE GROUP--Problem Resolution and Consultation. Problem resolution. A young woman smiled at us from a desk built into the wall. 'May I help you?' She had an English accent. Pike said, 'Joe Pike for Mr. Resnick. This is Elvis Cole.' 'Ah, yes. We're expecting you.' A young man in a three-piece suit came out of a door behind the receptionist and held it for us. He was carrying a black leather bag. 'Afternoon, gentlemen. You can come with me.' Pike and I stepped past him into a hall. As soon as we were out of the waiting room, the young man opened the bag. He was fit, with the pleasant professional expression of a mid-level executive on the way up. He wore an Annapolis class ring on his right hand. 'I'm Dale Rudolph, Mr. Resnick's assistant. The weapons go in here and will be returned when you leave.' I said, 'I'm not armed.' 'That's fine.' Pike put his .357, a .zS, the sap, and a double-edge SOG knife into the bag. Rudolph's expression never changed, as if men de-arming themselves was an everyday occurrence. Welcome to life in the Other World. 'Is that everything?' Pike said, 'Yes.' 'All right. Stand erect and lift your arms. Both of you, please.' Polite. They taught manners at Annapolis.
Rudolph passed a security wand over us, then put the wand into the bag.
'Okey-doke. We're good to go.'
Rudolph led us into a bright airy office that could have belonged to someone who sold life insurance except for the pictures that showed mobile rocket batteries, Soviet gunships, and armored vehicles. A man in his late fifties with crewcut gray hair and coarse skin came around his desk to introduce himself. He was probably a retired admiral or general with connections to the Pentagon; most of these guys were.
'John Resnick. That's all, Dale. Please wait outside.' 'Aye, sir.'
Resnick sat on the edge of his desk, but didn't offer us a seat.
'Which one's Pike?' Pike said, 'Me.' Resnick looked at him.
'Our mutual friend speaks well of you. The only
reason I agreed to see you is because he vouched for you.' Pike nodded.
'He didn't mention anyone else.'
I wanted to identify myself as the sidekick, but sometimes I'm smart. I let Pike handle it.
Pike said, 'If our mutual friend spoke well of me, then
that should cover it. Either I'm good or I'm not.' Resnick seemed to like that answer.
'Fair enough. Perhaps you'll have the chance to show
me just how good, but we can discuss that another time.' Resnick knew what we wanted and got to the point. 'I used to work with a PMC in London. We used Fallon once, but I would never use him again. If you're trying to hire him, I would recommend against it.'
252
I said, 'We don't want to hire him, we want to find him. Fallon and at least one accomplice abducted my girlfriend's son.'
Resnick's left eye flickered with an unexpected tension. He studied me as if he were deciding whether or
not I knew what I was saying, then he sat a bit taller. 'Mike Fallon is in Los Angeles?' I told him again.
'Yes. He took my girlfriend's son.'
Resnick's left eye flickered harder and the tension spread through him. But then he shrugged.
'Fallon is a dangerous man. I can't believe that he's in Los Angeles or anyplace else in the country, but if he is and he did what you said, you should go to the police.'
'We've been with the police. The police are trying to find him, too.'
Pike said, 'Without my resources. You know him. The thought is that you know how to reach him, or know someone who does.'
Resnick considered Pike, then slid off his desk and went to his seat. The sun was beginning to lower and bounced off the cars. Jets arced out of LAX heading west over the sea. Resnick watched them.
'That was years ago. Michael Fallon is under a warcrimes indictment for atrocities he committed in Sierra Leone. Last I heard, he was living in South America, Brazil, I think, or maybe Colombia. If I knew how to find him, I would have told the Justice Department. Jesus, I can't believe he had the balls to come back to the States.'
Resnick glanced at Pike again.
'If you find him, will you kill him?'
He asked it as simply as if he wanted to know whether or not Pike enjoyed football.
53
Pike didn't answer, so I answered for him.
