A Dangerous ManeBook - 2019
From the critics
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If you’re lookin ’ for trouble, just look right in my face. — ELVIS PRESLEY “Trouble,” King Creole
Pike’s current business interests included a partnership in a detective agency, a custom gun shop in Culver City, and several rental properties. His former employers included the United States Marine Corps, the Los Angeles Police Department, and various private military contractors. During his contract years, his fees were paid by foreign governments approved by the United States, shell companies controlled by the CIA and NSA, and multinational corporations.
The driver’s window exploded as if they’d been broadsided by a runaway truck. His door flew open, and the driver vanished. Something blocked the light, and the man on top of her jerked away. He convulsed, and flew over the seat and out the door as if he had been sucked into space.
Pike guessed her age at twenty-two or so, but she could have passed for sixteen.
Joe Pike had worn an LAPD uniform when he first met Elvis Cole. Cole, who didn’t yet have his license, had still worked as an apprentice for an old-line private investigator named George Feider. When Feider retired a few years later, Pike had already left the police. They pooled their money and bought Feider’s business. Pike was doing contract work by then, gone for weeks or months at a time, fighting other people’s wars. Pike had no interest in being an investigator, but he liked Cole, and admired him. They were friends.
“Are you another damned cop?” Cole held out a card. “Nope. Another damned private eye. I’m here on a personal matter.” The old man inspected the card. “No shit? Like Magnum?” “More like Rockford.”
Fake pills, bad medicine, drugs with all this contamination. Teddy heard so many awful stories, he wouldn’t take an aspirin unless he knew where it came from.”
Harriet walked away. Each footstep sounded like the boom of heavy artillery. Each thundering shell headed his way.
“Your partner and known associate is one Joseph Pike, no middle initial. Several days ago, Mr. Pike prevented two gentlemen — a Christopher Karbo and a Donald Bender, both now deceased — from kidnapping Ms. Roland.” Cole said, “He’s a good man, that Joe.”
Isabel had been missing for sixteen hours. Time had weight. The weight was growing.
“This sun is something.” The woman said, “Fry your eyes right out of your head. Best you drink water.”
He didn’t need an SIS surveillance team. The U.S. Marshals had something better.
The polyethylene layers had stopped the 10-millimeter bullets cold, but each bullet carried seven hundred foot-pounds of energy. The vest had been designed to minimize blunt force trauma by dispersing the energy, but a large purple bruise was spreading across his chest.
They didn’t come for vengeance. They were taking a score.
“The dudes in Los Feliz believe she took it.” “Not anymore. Dead men have no beliefs.”
Riley’s silence sounded like death. “Tell me what happened.” “Joe Pike happened. We need to talk….
the first rule — the absolute, no exceptions RULE — all professionals lived by was this : At the first sign of heat, split. The instant Five-O sniffed, split. Drop everything, abandon the gear, bail. Crooks who broke the rule went to jail. Or died.
The keys opened storage spaces located near three different freeways leading out of the city. Each space held a larger go-bag containing ten thousand dollars, IDs, an alternate license plate, a 9mm pistol, a. 223-caliber semiautomatic rifle tricked out to fire full-auto, toiletries, and clothes.
No wonder crazies like Manson and the Night Stalker popped up out here. These people were defective.
"Who the hell are you?"
"How'd you get in?"
"Your door wasn't locked."
The old man pooched his lips.
"Want some coffee?"
"I killed Riley Cox."
"What is this?"
Terrence Semple. Pitchess Lloyd. Charlie Reyes."
"You get out of here. I don't know what you're talking about.
"Nathan Hicks. the man you sent to find DeeAnn Ryan."
Kinnaman wet his lips.
"You'd best leave."
"Got more names. Want to hear them?"
"I want my money is what I want. That bitch stole my money. I want it."
Pike raised his gun and shot Kinnaman in the chest. A little high, a little to the left, a bit down from the collarbone. Heart shot.
Pie walked over, and looked at the body.
"You can't have it." pg. 338
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