He pointed in the direction of the reservoir. Bosch knew by Hadley’s sidestepping that the tip was anonymous, the hallmark of a setup.
“Captain, I urge you to stand down,” he said. “There is something not right about this. It’s too simple and this wasn’t a simple plan. It’s some sort of misdirection and we need to figure—”
“We’re not standing down, Detective. Lives could hang in the balance.”
Bosch shook his head. He wasn’t going to get through to Hadley. The man believed he was poised at the edge of some sort of victory that would redeem every mistake he had ever made.
“Where’s the FBI?” Bosch asked. “Shouldn’t they be—”
“We don’t need the FBI,” Hadley said, getting in Bosch’s face again. “We have the training, the equipment and the skills. What’s more, we have the balls. And for once we’re going to take care of what’s in our own backyard ourselves.”
He gestured to the ground as if the place where he stood was the last battlefield between the bureau and the LAPD.
“What about the chief?” Bosch tried. “Does he know? I was just—”
Bosch stopped, remembering the chief’s admonishment about keeping their meeting at the Donut Hole to themselves.
“You were just what?” Hadley asked.
“I just want to know if he knows and approves.”
“The chief has given me full authority to run my unit. Do you call the chief every time you go out and make an arrest?”
He turned and marched imperiously back to his men, leaving Bosch and Ferras to watch him go.
“Uh-oh,” Ferras said.
“Yeah,” Bosch said.
Bosch stepped away from the back of the foul-smelling sanitation truck and pulled out his phone. He scrolled through his directory to Rachel Walling’s name. He had just pressed the call button when Hadley was there in his face again. Bosch hadn’t heard him coming.
“Detective! Who are you calling?”
Bosch didn’t hesitate.
“My lieutenant. He told me to update him after we got here.”
“No cellular or radio transmissions. They could be monitoring.”
“They who?”
“Give me the phone.”
“Captain?”
“Give me the phone or I will have it taken from you. We’re not going to compromise this operation.”
Bosch closed the phone without ending the call. If he was lucky Walling would answer the call and be listening. She might be able to put it together and get the warning. The bureau might even be able to triangulate the cell transmission and get to Silver Lake before things went completely wrong.
He handed the phone to Hadley, who then turned to Ferras.
“Your phone, Detective.”
“Sir, my wife is eight months pregnant and I need—”
“Your phone, Detective. You are either with us or against us.”
Hadley held his hand out and Ferras reluctantly took his phone from his belt and gave it to him.
Hadley marched over to one of the SUVs, opened the passenger door and put the two phones into the glove box. He slammed the compartment shut with authority and looked back at Bosch and Ferras as if challenging them to try to retrieve their phones.
The captain’s attention was then distracted when a third black SUV pulled into the lot. The driver gave the captain a thumbs-up. Hadley then pointed a finger into the air and started a twirling motion.
“All right, everybody,” he called out. “We have the warrant and you know the plan. Perez, call air support and get us the eye in the sky. The rest of you warriors mount up! We’re going in.”
Bosch watched with growing dread as the members of the OHS chambered rounds in their weapons and put on helmets with face shields. Two of the men began putting on space suits, as they had been designated the radiation-containment team.
“This is crazy,” Ferras said in a whisper.
“Charlie don’t surf,” Bosch replied.
“What?”
“Nothing. Before your time.”
FOURTEEN
T HE SLICK BANKED OVER a thirty-acre rubber plantation and put down in the LZ with the usual spine-compressing final drop. Hari Kari Bosch, Bunk Simmons, Ted Furness and Gabe Finley rolled out into the mud and Captain Gillette was there waiting for them, holding his helmet on top of his head so he wouldn’t lose it in the rotor wash. The chopper labored as it pulled its skids out of the mud—it was the first dry day after six days of rain—and took off, following the line of an irrigation canal back in the direction of III Corps HQ.
“Walk with me, men,” Gillette said.
Bosch and Simmons had been in country long enough to have nicknames but Furness and Finley were fresh and strictly OJT—on-the-job training—and Bosch knew they were scared shitless. This was going to be their first drop and nothing they taught you back at tunnel school in San Diego could prepare you for the sights, sounds and smells of the real thing.
The captain led them to a card table set up under the command tent and outlined his plan. The tunnel system under Ben Cat was extensive and needed to be taken out as part of a first-wave attempt to take control of the village above. Already the casualties from sappers and sneak attacks inside the camp perimeter were mounting. The captain explained that he was getting his ass eaten out on a daily basis by III Corps command. He didn’t mention anything about being bothered by the dead and wounded he was losing. They were replaceable but his favor with the colonel at III Corps was not.
The plan was a simple crimp operation. The captain unrolled a map drawn with the aid of villagers who had been in the tunnels. He pointed to four separate spider holes and said the four tunnel rats would go down simultaneously and force the VC in the tunnels toward a fifth hole, where the warriors of Tropic Lightning would be on top waiting to massacre them. Along the way Bosch and his fellow rats would set charges and the operation would finish with the implosion of the entire tunnel system.
The plan was simple enough until they got down there in the darkness and the labyrinth didn’t match the map they had studied on the card table under the tent. Four went down but only one came back up alive. Tropic Lightning got zero kills that day. And that was the day that Bosch knew the war was lost—for him, at least. That was when he knew that men of rank often fought battles with enemies that were inside.
BOSCH AND FERRAS RODE IN THE BACKSEAT of Captain Hadley’s SUV. Perez drove and Hadley rode shotgun, wearing a radio headset so he could command the operation. The vehicle’s radio speaker was on loud and set to the operation’s back-channel frequency—one that would not be found listed in any public directories.
They were third in line in the entourage of black SUVs. Half a block from the target house Perez braked to let the other two vehicles move in as planned.
Bosch leaned forward between the front seats so he could see better through the windshield. Each of the other SUVs had four men riding on runners on either side. The vehicles picked up speed and then turned sharply toward the Samir house. One went down the driveway of the small Craftsman-style bungalow toward the rear yard while the other jumped the curb and crossed the front lawn. One of the OHS men lost his grip when the heavy vehicle impacted the curb and he went tumbling across the lawn.
The others leaped from the runners and moved toward the front door. Bosch assumed the same thing was happening at the back door. He didn’t agree with the plan but admired its precision. There was a loud popping sound when the front door was breached with an explosive device. And almost immediately there was another from the rear.
“All right, move up,” Hadley commanded Perez.
As they drove up, the radio came alive with reports from inside the house.
“We’re inside!”
“We’re in the back!”
“Front room clear! We—”
The voice was cut off by the sound of automatic gunfire.
“Shots fired!”
“We’ve got—”
&nb
sp; “Shots fired!”
Bosch heard more gunfire but not over the radio. They were now close enough for him to hear it live. Perez jammed the SUV into park at an angle crossing the street in front of the house. All four doors opened at once as they jumped out, leaving the doors open behind them and the radio blaring.
“All clear! All clear!”
“One suspect down. We need medical for one suspect down. We need medical!”
It was all over in less than twenty seconds.
Bosch ran across the lawn behind Hadley and Perez. Ferras was to his left side. They entered through the front door with weapons out and up. Immediately they were met by one of Hadley’s men. Above the right pocket of his fatigue shirt was the name Peck.
“We’re clear! We’re clear!”
Bosch dropped his weapon to his side but he didn’t holster it. He looked around. It was a sparely furnished living room. He smelled the exploded gunpowder and saw blue smoke hanging in the air.
“What have we got?” Hadley demanded.
“One down, one in custody,” Peck said. “Back here.”
They followed Peck down a short hallway to a room with woven-grass mats on the floor. A man Bosch recognized as Ramin Samir was on his back on the floor, blood from two chest wounds flowing over a cream-colored robe onto the floor and one of the mats. A young woman in a matching robe was lying facedown and whimpering, her hands cuffed behind her back.
Bosch saw a revolver on the floor by the open drawer of a small cabinet with lit votive candles on top of it. The gun was about eighteen inches from where Samir was lying.
“He went for the gun and we took him down,” Peck said.
Bosch looked down at Samir. He wasn’t conscious and his chest was rising and falling in a broken rhythm.
“He’s circling the drain,” Hadley said. “What have we found?”
“So far no materials,” Peck said. “We’re bringing in the equipment now.”
“All right, let’s get the car checked,” Hadley ordered. “And get her out of here.”
While two OHS men raised the crying woman up and carried her out of the room like a battering ram Hadley headed back out of the house to the curb, where the Chrysler 300 awaited. Bosch and Ferras followed.
They looked into the car but didn’t touch it. Bosch noticed that it was unlocked. He bent down to look in through the passenger-side windows.
“Keys are in it,” he said.
He pulled a pair of latex gloves from his coat pocket, stretched them and put them on.
“Let’s get a reading on it first, Bosch,” Hadley said.
The captain signaled one of his men who was carrying a radiation monitor over. The man swept the device over the car and only picked up a few low pops by the trunk.
“We could have something right here,” Hadley said.
“I doubt it,” Bosch said. “It’s not here.”
He opened the driver-side door and leaned in.
“Bosch, wait—”
Bosch pushed the trunk button before Hadley could finish. He heard the pneumatic pop and the trunk came open. He backed out of the car and walked to the rear. The trunk was empty, but Bosch saw the same four indentations he had seen earlier in the trunk of Stanley Kent’s Porsche.
“It’s gone,” Hadley said, looking into the trunk. “They must’ve already made the transfer.”
“Yeah, long before the car was brought here.”
Bosch looked Hadley squarely in the eyes.
“This was a misdirection, Captain. I told you that.”
Hadley moved toward Bosch so he could speak without his whole crew hearing him. But he was intercepted by Peck.
“Captain?”
“What?” Hadley barked.
“The suspect went code seven.”
“Then call off the paramedics and call the coroner.”
“Yes, sir. The house is clear. No materials and the monitors are picking up no signature.”
Hadley glanced at Bosch and then quickly looked back at Peck.
“Tell them to check the place again,” he ordered. “The fucker went for a gun. He had to have been hiding something. Tear the place apart if you have to. Especially that room—it looks like a meeting place for terrorists.”
“It’s a prayer room,” Bosch said. “And maybe the guy went for the gun because he was scared shitless when people came busting through the doors.”
Peck hadn’t moved. He was listening to Bosch.
“Go!” Hadley ordered. “Tear the fucker apart! The material was in a lead container. Just because you got no reading doesn’t mean it’s not in there!”
Peck hustled back to the house and Hadley turned his stare to Bosch.
“We need Forensics to process the car,” Bosch said. “And I don’t have a phone to make the call.”
“Go get your phone and make the call.”
Bosch went back to the SUV. He watched the woman who had been in the house being placed in the back of the SUV parked on the lawn. She was still crying and Bosch assumed the tears wouldn’t stop anytime soon. For Samir now, herself later.
As he leaned through the door of Hadley’s SUV he realized that the vehicle was still running. He turned off the engine, then opened the glove compartment and took out the two phones. He opened and checked his to see if the call to Rachel Walling was still connected. It wasn’t and he didn’t know if the call had gone through in the first place.
When he turned from the door Hadley was standing there. They were away from the others and no one would hear them.
“Bosch, if you try to make trouble for this unit I will make trouble for you. You understand?”
Bosch studied him for a moment before responding.
“Sure, Captain. I’m glad you’re thinking about the unit.”
“I have connections that go all the way up and right out of this department. I can hurt you.”
“Thanks for the advice.”
Bosch started to walk away from him but then stopped. He wanted to say something but hesitated.
“What?” Hadley said. “Say it.”
“I was just thinking about a captain I once worked for. This was a long time ago and in another place. He kept making all the wrong moves and his fuckups kept costing people their lives. Good people. So eventually it had to stop. That captain ended up getting fragged in the latrine by some of his own men. The story was that afterward they couldn’t separate his parts from the shit.”
Bosch walked away but Hadley stopped him.
“What’s that supposed to mean? Is that a threat?”
“No, it’s a story.”
“And you’re calling that guy in there good people? Let me tell you, a guy like that stood up and cheered when the planes hit the buildings.”
Bosch kept walking as he answered.
“I don’t know what kind of people he was, Captain. I just know he wasn’t part of this and he was set up just like you. If you figure out who it was who tipped you to the car, let me know. It might help us.”
Bosch walked over to Ferras and gave him back his phone. He told his partner to remain on the scene to supervise the forensic analysis of the Chrysler.
“Where are you going, Harry?”
“Downtown.”
“What about the meeting with the bureau?”
Bosch didn’t check his watch.
“We missed it. Call me if SID comes up with anything.”
Bosch left him there and started walking down the street toward the recreation center, where the car was parked.
“Bosch, where are you going?” Hadley called. “You’re not done here!”
Bosch waved without looking back. He kept walking. When he was halfway back to the rec center the first TV truck passed him on its way to Samir’s house.
FIFTEEN
B OSCH WAS HOPING TO GET to the federal building downtown before news of the raid on Ramin Samir’s house did. He had tried to call Rachel Walling but got no answer. He knew that she might be at the Ta
ctical Intelligence location but he didn’t know where that was. He only knew where the federal building was and he was banking on the idea that the growing size and importance of the investigation would dictate that it be directed from the main building and not a secret satellite office.
He entered the building through the law enforcement door and told the U.S. marshal who checked his ID that he was going up to the FBI. He took the elevator up to the fourteenth floor and was greeted by Brenner as soon as the doors came open. The word that Bosch was in the building had obviously been sent up from below.
“I thought you got the message,” Brenner said.
“What message?”
“That the status conference was canceled.”
“I think I should’ve gotten the message as soon as you people showed up. There never was going to be a status conference, was there?”
Brenner ignored the question.
“Bosch, what do you want?”
“I want to see Agent Walling.”
“I’m her partner. Anything you want to tell her, you can tell me.”
“Only her. I want to talk to her.”
Brenner studied him for a moment.
“Come with me,” he finally said.
He didn’t wait for a reply. He used a clip-on ID card to open a door and Bosch followed him through. They went down a long hallway and Brenner threw questions over his shoulder as he walked.
“Where’s your partner?” he asked.
“He’s back at the crime scene,” Bosch said.
It wasn’t a lie. Bosch just neglected to say which crime scene Ferras was at.
“Besides,” he added, “I thought it would be safer for him there. I don’t want you people leaning on him to get to me.”
Brenner suddenly stopped, pivoted sharply and was in Bosch’s face.
“Do you know what you are doing, Bosch? You’re compromising an investigation that could have far-reaching implications. Where is the witness?”
Bosch shrugged as if to say his response was obvious.
“Where’s Alicia Kent?”
Brenner shook his head but didn’t answer.
“Wait in here,” he said. “I’ll go get Agent Walling.”