Michael Connelly (144 page)

He looked at his watch. Seventy minutes. He was pushing the envelope.

As he closed the closet door and turned around, he caught his own image in the mirror over the bureau. He quickly turned to
the door to go. That was when he saw the rack of lights on a track running high on the wall above the bedroom door. There
were five lights and he did not need to turn them on to be able to tell they focused on the bed.

He focused on the bed himself for a moment as he began to put it together. He took another glance at his watch, though he
already knew it was time to go, and headed for the door.

As he crossed the room he looked at the TV and VCR again and realized that he had forgotten something. He quickly dropped
to his knees in front of the machines and turned the VCR on. He hit the eject button and a video-cassette popped out. He pushed
it back in and hit the rewind button. He turned the TV on and pulled out the rover.

“One, how we doing?”

“Movie’s getting out now. I’m watching for him.”

That wasn’t right, Bosch knew. No general release movie was that short. And he knew the Dome was a single theater. One movie
shown at a time. So Mora had gone into the theater after the movie had started. If he had really gone in. An adrenaline-charged
alert swept over him.

“You sure it’s over, One? He’s barely been in there an hour.”

“We’re going in!”

There was panic in Sheehan’s voice. Then Bosch understood. We’re going in. Opelt had not followed Mora into the theater. They
had clicked off on Rollenberger’s order to split up but they hadn’t followed the order. They couldn’t. Mora had seen Sheehan
and Opelt the day before at the burrito stand by Central Division. There was no way one of them could go into a dark theater
looking for Mora and risk being seen by the vice cop first. If that happened, Mora would instantly tumble to the setup. He
would know. Sheehan had rogered the order from Rollenberger because the alternative was to tell the lieutenant that they had
fucked up the day before.

The VCR rewind clicked off. Bosch sat there motionless, his finger poised in front of the VCR. He knew they had been made.
Mora was a cop. He had made the tail. The theater stop had been a scam.

He hit the play button.

This tape had not been erased. The quality of the image on it was better than Bosch had seen in the video booth at X Marks
the Spot four nights earlier. The tape had all the production values of a feature-length porno tape. Framed in the TV picture
was the four-poster bed on which two men were engaged in sex with a woman. Bosch watched for a moment and hit the fast forward
button while the picture was still on the screen. The players in the video began a quick jerking motion that was almost comedic.
Bosch watched as they changed couplings over and over. Every conceivable coupling in fast speed. Finally, he returned it to
normal speed and studied the players.

The woman did not fit the Follower’s mold. She wore the black wig. She was also rail-thin and young. In fact, she wasn’t a
woman — legally, at least. Bosch doubted she was more than sixteen years old. One of her partners was young, too, perhaps
he was her age or less. Bosch couldn’t be sure. He was sure, however, that the third participant was Ray Mora. His face was
turned away from the camera but Bosch could tell. And he could see the gold medal, the Holy Spirit, bouncing on his chest.
He turned the tape off.

“I forgot about that tape, didn’t I?”

Still on his knees in front of the television, Bosch turned. Ray Mora was standing there with a gun pointed at his face.

“Hey, Ray.”

“Thanks for reminding me.”

“Don’t worry about it. Look, Ray, why don’t you put —”

“Don’t look at me.”

“What?”

“I don’t want you to look at me! Turn around, look at the screen.”

Bosch obediently looked at the blank screen.

“You’re a leftie, right? With your right hand take out your gun and slide it across the floor this way.”

Bosch carefully followed the orders. He thought he heard Mora pick the gun up off the floor.

“You fucks think I’m the Follower.”

“Look, I’m not going to lie to you, Ray, we were checking you out, that’s all. …I know now, I know we’re wrong. You —”

“The kosher burrito boys. Somebody ought to teach them how to follow a fucking suspect. They don’t know shit … took me a while
but I figured something was going down after I saw them.”

“So we’re wrong about you, right, Ray?”

“You have to ask, Bosch? After what you just saw? The answer is, yeah, you got your head up your ass. Whose idea was it to
check me out? Eyman? Leiby?”

Eyman and Leiby were the co-commanders of Administrative Vice.

“No. It came from me. It was my call.”

A long moment of silence followed this confession.

“Then maybe I ought to just blow your head off right here. Be within my rights, wouldn’t it?”

“Look, Ray —”

“Don’t!”

Bosch stopped from turning all the way and looked back at the television.

“You do that, Ray, and your life unalterably changes. You know that.”

“It did that as soon as you broke in, Bosch. Why shouldn’t I just take it to the logical conclusion? Cap you and just disappear.”

“’Cause you’re a cop, Ray.”

“Am I? Am I still going to be a cop if I let you go? You going to kneel there and tell me you’ll make it right for me?”

“Ray, I don’t know what to tell you. Those kids on the video are underage. But I only know that because of an illegal search.
You end this now and put away the gun, we can work something out.”

“Yeah, Harry? Can everything go back to the way it was? The badge is all I’ve got. I can’t give —”

“Ray. I —”

“Shut up! Just shut up! I’m trying to think.”

Bosch felt the anger hitting him in the back like rain.

“You know my secret, Bosch. How the fuck does that make you feel?”

Bosch had no answer. His mind was tumbling, trying to come up with the next move, the next sentence, when he flinched at the
sound of Sheehan’s voice coming over the rover in his pocket.

“We lost him. He’s not in the theater.”

There was a sharp degree of urgency in Sheehan’s voice.

Bosch and Mora were silent, listening.

“What do you mean, Team One?” Rollenberger’s voice said.

“Who’s that?” Mora asked.

“Rollenberger, RHD,” Bosch answered.

Sheehan’s voice said, “The movie got out ten minutes ago. People came out but he didn’t. I went in, he’s gone. His car is
still here but he’s gone.”

“I thought one of you went in?” Rollenberger barked, his own voice tightening with panic.

“We did, but we lost him,” Sheehan said.

“Liar,” Mora said. A long moment of silence followed before he said, “Now, they’ll probably start hitting the hotels, looking
for me. Because to them, I’m the Follower.”

“Yes,” Bosch said. “But they know I’m here, Ray. I should call in.”

As if on cue, Sheehan’s voice came from the rover.

“Team Six?”

“That’s Sheehan, Ray. I’m Six.”

“Call him. Be careful, Harry.”

Bosch slowly took the radio out of his pocket with his right hand and held it up to his mouth. He pressed the transmitter.

“One, did you find him?”

“Negative. In the wind. What’s on TV?”

“Nothing. There’s nothing on tonight.”

“Then you ought to leave the house and help us out.”

“Already on the way,” Bosch said quickly. “Where are you at?”

“Bo — uh, Team Six, this is Team Leader, we need you to come in. We’re bringing in the task force to help locate the suspect.
All units will meet at the Dome parking lot.”

“Be there in ten. Out.”

He dropped his arm back to his side.

“A whole task force, huh?” Mora asked.

Bosch looked down and nodded.

“Look, Ray, that was all code. They know I went to your house. If I don’t show up at the Dome in ten minutes they’ll come
looking for me here. What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know …but I guess that gives me at least fifteen minutes to decide, doesn’t it?”

“Sure, Ray. Take your time. Don’t make a mistake.”

“Too late for that,” he said, almost wistfully. Then he added, “Tell you what. Take out the tape.”

Bosch ejected the tape and held it up over his left shoulder to Mora.

“No, no, I want you to do this for me, Harry. Open the bottom drawer and take out the magnet.”

That’s what the hockey puck was. Bosch put the tape on top of the stand next to the TV and reached down for the magnet. Feeling
its heaviness as he lifted it, he wondered if he’d have a chance, if he could maybe turn and hurl it at Mora before the vice
cop got off a shot.

“You’d be dead before you tried,” Mora said, knowing his thoughts. “You know what to do with it.”

Bosch ran the magnet over the top side of the tape.

“Let’s put it in and see how we did,” Mora instructed.

“Okay, Ray. Whatever you say.”

Bosch put the tape into the VCR and pushed the play button. The screen filled with the static of a dead channel. It cast a
grayish shroud of dull light over Bosch. He hit the fast forward button and the static continued. The tape had been wiped
clean.

“Good,” Mora said. “That ought to do it. That was the last tape.”

“No evidence, Ray. You’re in the clear.”

“But you’ll always know. And you’ll tell them, won’t you, Harry? You’ll tell IAD. You’ll tell the world. I’ll never be clear,
so don’t fuckin’ say I’ll be clear. Everyone will know.”

Bosch didn’t answer. After a moment, he thought he heard the creaking of the wood floor. When Mora spoke, he was very close
behind.

“Let me give you a tip, Harry…. Nobody in this world is who they say they are. Nobody. Not when they’re in their own room
with the door shut and locked. And nobody knows anybody, no matter what they think…. The best you can hope for is to know
yourself. And sometimes when you do, when you see your true self, you have to turn away.”

Bosch heard nothing for several seconds. He kept his eyes on the television screen and thought he could see ghosts forming
and disintegrating in the static. He felt the grayish-blue glow burning behind his eyes and the start of a headache. He hoped
he was going to live long enough to get it.

“You were always a good guy to me, Harry. I —”

There was a sound from the hallway, then a shout.

“Mora!”

It was Sheehan’s voice. Immediately it was followed by light that flooded the room. Bosch heard the pounding of several feet
on the wood floor, then there was a shout from Mora and the sound of impact as he was tackled. Bosch took his thumb off the
rover’s transmit button and began to throw himself to the right, out of harm’s way. And in that moment, a gunshot cracked
across the room, echoing, it seemed, as loudly as anything he had ever heard.

Once Bosch had cleared the rover channel, Rollenberger came up almost immediately.

“Bosch! Sheehan — Team One! What is happening there. What is — report immediately.”

After a long moment went by, Bosch answered calmly.

“This is Six. Team Leader, be advised you should proceed to the subject’s twenty.”

“His home? What — did we have shots fired?”

“Team Leader, be advised to keep the channel open. And all task force units, disregard the callout. All units are ten-seven
until further notice. Unit Five, are you up?”

“Five,” Edgar responded.

“Five, could you meet me at our subject’s twenty?”

“On my way.”

“Six out.”

Bosch turned off the rover before Rollenberger could get back on the channel.

• • •

It took the lieutenant a half hour to get from the Parker Center operations post to the house on Sierra Linda. By the time
he arrived, Edgar was already there and a plan was in place. Bosch opened the front door just as Rollenberger reached it.
The lieutenant strode through the entrance with a face turned red with equal parts of anger and befuddlement.

“Okay, Bosch, what the hell is going on here? You had no authority to cancel the call out, to countermand my order.”

“I thought the less people that know, the better, Lieutenant. I called out Edgar. I thought that would be enough to handle
it and that way not too many would —”

“Know what, Bosch? Handle what? What is going on here?”

Bosch looked at him a moment before answering, then in an even voice said, “One of the men in your command conducted an illegal
search of the suspect’s residence. He was caught in the act when the suspect eluded the surveillance you were supervising.
That’s what happened.”

Rollenberger reacted as if he had been slapped.

“Are you crazy, Bosch? Where’s the phone? I want —”

“You call Chief Irving and you can forget about ever running a task force again. You can forget about a lot of things.”

“Bullshit! I had nothing to do with this. You went freelancing on your own and got your fingers caught in the jar. Where’s
Mora?”

“He’s upstairs in the room to the right, handcuffed to the Nautilus machine.”