"The Watchman" - читать интересную книгу автора (Crais Robert)7PIKE CRUISED east on Sunset Boulevard into the purpling sky, driving easy for the first time in twenty hours, invisible in the anonymous car. When they passed Echo Lake with its fountain, dim in the twilight, Pike turned north into the low hills of Echo Park. The houses would be nicer east of the park, but the twisting residential streets to the north were narrow and the homes were clapboard shotguns. Prewar street lamps were flickering on when they reached the address. Pike said, “This is it.” A narrow grey house with a steep roof sat off the street. A covered front porch guarded the door and a one-car garage filled the backyard. Pike’s real estate friend had left a key under a potted plant near the door. Larkin looked warily at the house. “Who lives here?” “It’s a rental. The owners live in Las Vegas, and they’re between tenants. When you get out, go directly to the front door.” A sunset breeze out of Chavez Ravine stirred the warm air. Families were outside on their porches, some listening to the radio and others just talking. Pike heard Vin Scully, calling the game from nearby Dodger Stadium, Dodgers up over the Giants, five to two. Most of the neighbors appeared to be Eastern Europeans. Across the street, five young men who sounded Armenian were standing around a late-model BMW. They laughed together, and one of them spoke loudly, trying to make a point over the laughter. Larkin didn’t move toward the front door. She stared at the house like it was waiting to eat her, then looked at the surrounding houses, then the five men. Pike said, “It’s okay. Let’s go.” Pike carried her bags. He could have carried his as well, but didn’t. He found the key, then let them into a small living room. A door to their right branched into a bathroom and a front and back bedroom. The little house was fully furnished and the interior was clean and neat, but the furniture was worn and the rooms were small. A single window air conditioner hummed in the living room, left on by Pike’s friend to cool the house. Larkin said, “I’ve been thinking. No one knows where we are now, right? We have my credit cards. We have my ATM. We can go wherever we want.” Pike dropped her bags. “It has two bedrooms. Take whichever you want.” Pike continued on through both bedrooms and the bath and kitchen, checking the windows and pulling the shades. Larkin didn’t touch her bags or pick a bedroom. She followed him, walking so close that twice she stepped on his heels. “Just listen. We can take the Gulfstream. My father won’t care. We have a fabulous apartment in Sydney. Have you ever been to Oz?” “You’ll be recognized. Someone at the airport, there’s Larkin Barkley in her jet.” Pike opened the fridge. Two grocery bags, a case of bottled water, and a six-pack of Corona were waiting. “My friend left this. Help yourself.” “You’re being a prick. Okay, look-we have a house on the rue Georges Cinq a block from the Champs-Elysées. I’ll pay our way on a commercial flight. It’s not a problem.” “Credit cards leave a trail. Airplanes file flight plans.” Pike headed back into the living room, and Larkin caught up. “I’ll take cash from the ATM. It’s really no problem. This place doesn’t even have a TV.” The window unit made a heavy Larkin looked horrified. “What are you doing? Why did you turn off the air?” “I couldn’t hear.” “But it’s hot. It’s going to be an oven in here.” She had crossed her arms, and her fingers had dug into her flesh. Pike knew this wasn’t about Paris or Sydney. It was about being scared. Pike touched her arm. “I know this isn’t what you’re used to, but we have what we need. Right here-right now-this is a safe place. We’re safe.” “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be a bitch.” “I’m going to get my things from the car. You okay alone for a few minutes?” “I miss my dog.” Pike didn’t know what to say about that, so he didn’t say anything. Larkin made a tired smile. “Of course. I’ll be fine.” Pike turned off the lamps so he wouldn’t be framed in the door, then let himself out. He had left his bags so he could return alone to check his messages. If he needed to call someone, he wanted to speak freely. He climbed into the Lexus, then used his new phone to check the messages left on his old phone. Seven messages were waiting for him. Bud had left three in a row, all pretty much the same- Bud had left a fourth message about an hour after the first three. Pike noted Bud was calmer in the fourth message. He wasn’t shouting- Jon Stone had left the fifth message in a quiet and wary voice. Pike hesitated before deleting Stone’s message. Staying groovy had nothing to do with being cool. It was an expression used by small recon units and sniper teams in hostile terrain. They would tell one another to stay groovy when the danger level was so insanely high they popped amphetamines to stay awake and ready to rock twenty-four/seven, because anything less would get them all killed. Stay groovy; take your pill. Stay groovy; safety off, finger on. Stay groovy; welcome to hell. Stone had left a warning within his message, and Pike wondered why. Pike wanted to call Stone, but assumed Stone told him not to call for good reason. Bud and the feds had probably pushed Stone for information. He wondered if Meesh had done the same. The sixth message was again from Bud, this time sounding drained. A dry male voice had left the last message. Mister. Pike ended the call, then sat listening to the neighborhood. He wondered what Bud meant, saying the stiffs in Malibu weren’t identified. Pike had thought the shooters would be identified as soon as they reached the coroner, which would give him a lead to Meesh. Pike had been thinking about Meesh because something Larkin described was bothering him. Her accident had occurred downtown in the middle of nowhere, but Meesh had fled on foot. Larkin told him the Kings had driven away, but Meesh fled on foot. This didn’t make sense to Pike, but there was still much he didn’t know. He wanted to ask Larkin about it. Pike unscrewed the interior light so it wouldn’t come on, then left the car. It was full-on dark now, and Pike enjoyed the darkness. Darkness, rain, snow, a storm-anything that hid you was good. He circled the house to check the windows, then slipped back onto the porch and let himself in. Larkin was no longer in the living room, but her bags were gone and he heard her in the kitchen. He took off the long-sleeved shirt, then sat in one of the wing chairs to wait. He couldn’t see her, but he knew she was getting a bottle of water. He heard the rattle of the refrigerator as she wrestled a bottle from its plastic wrapping. He heard the door close with a plastic kiss and a zippery crack as she twisted off the cap. Her shadow played on the bright kitchen wall, so he knew she was moving, and he heard the dry slap of bare feet. She came out of the kitchen and was halfway into the living room before she saw him, and startled so abruptly a geyser of water squirted into the air. “You scared the shit out of me.” “Sorry.” She was gasping the way people do, but she made an embarrassed laugh. “Jesus, say something next time. I didn’t hear you come back.” “Maybe you should put on something.” She had taken off her clothes except for a sheer bra and lime green thong panties. A gold stud glinted in her navel. She straightened to face him full-on, lifting her ribs. “I got hot. I told you it would be hot without the air. You want a bottle of water?” Pike said, “Don’t do this.” She went to the couch, sat, and put her bare feet up on the coffee table, staring at him between her knees. “Do what? Are you sure you don’t want to go to Paris? It’s cooler in Paris.” She stared into his eyes with the crooked smile slashing her face as if she and only she had discovered that everything in the world was about sex and Pike had never seen anything like her before. Pike said, “Who’s Don Pitman?” Her crooked smile vanished. “I don’t want to talk about this right now.” “I need to know who these people are. He called me.” She closed her eyes. Her feet dropped from the table. “He’s one of the people from the government. It was Pitman and another one-Blanchette. Kevin. Kevin is a lawyer from the Attorney General.” “Are they running the show or do they work for someone else?” Her shut eyes squeezed tighter, like she was in pain but trying to control it. “Not now. I cannot talk about this anymore.” “I need to ask some things. I’m going to have to talk to these guys, and Bud, and your father.” “No more. Not now.” She leaned forward to put the bottle on the table, and her breasts showed round and full in her bra in the dim ochre light. “I have a tattoo on my ass. Did you see it this morning? I wanted you to see it.” Pike stared at her. “It’s a dolphin. I think dolphins are beautiful. You see them racing through the water. They have that wonderful smile. They look so happy, going fast. I want to be a dolphin. I want to be like that.” She came around the table and walked over to Pike and stopped in front of him. Pike shook his head. “Don’t.” She knelt and placed the flat of her hand on his shoulder, covering his tattoo. “Why did you have arrows? Tell me why. I need to know that about you.” Pike moved just enough to lift her hand away. He took her arms and gently pushed her back. “Please don’t do this again.” She stared at some point between them for a time, then returned to the couch. Pike studied her dark outline, half her face in a murky glow from the kitchen, the other half in shadows. Her eyes glistened in the light from the window. He said, “It’s going to be all right. You’re safe.” “I don’t know you. I don’t know these government people or Meesh or the Kings or anything about laundering money from South America. I only wanted to help. I don’t know what I’m doing here. I don’t know what happened to my life.” The glisten spread to her cheeks. “I’m really scared.” Pike knew it was a mistake even as he went to the couch. He put his arm around her, trying to comfort her the way he had comforted people when he was an officer, comforting a mother whose son had been shot, calming a child who had been shaken in a traffic accident. And when he touched her, she snuggled into him, her hand going to his chest, then lower. Pike whispered, “No.” Larkin ran into the front bedroom, bare feet slapping. The door closed. Pike sat on the couch in the dark quiet house. He had been awake for thirty-five hours, but he knew if sleep came it would not last more than an hour or two. He took off his sweatshirt, then floated soundlessly through the house, going to each room, listening to the night beyond the windows, then moving on. When he reached Larkin’s door, he heard her crying. A slash of light from the edge of a shade placed a bar on the floor at his feet. Pike touched the door. “Larkin.” The crying stopped, so he knew she was listening. “The arrows. What they mean is, you control who you are by moving forward, never back; you move forward. That’s what I do. That’s what we’re going to do.” Pike waited, but the girl made no sound. Pike felt embarrassed and wished he hadn’t tried to explain. “You know me better now.” Pike turned away and shut every light in the house. He returned to the living room. He stood in the dark, listening, then fell forward and silently caught himself in the push-up position. He did push-ups. He clicked off one push-up after another, alone with himself, waiting for the night to pass. Staying groovy. |
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