Dark Sacred Night (Harry Bosch Universe #31)(92)

“How’s the case against him going?”

“Nowhere. We got a guy in a coma—a cop. If he comes out of it and talks, then maybe we make a case.”

“But you never saw Cortez, right? When you were in the cage.”

“No.”

“So in other words, you don’t have shit. If we take him in on this bullshit child support thing, you get a shot at talking to him and you gotta hope that, first, he doesn’t lawyer up and, second, he says the wrong thing and craps on himself.”

“That’s about right, yeah.”

“Well, then, let’s hope he makes the wrong choice tonight.”

The radio came alive a few moments later with reports that the Chrysler carrying Cortez was entering the Hansen Dam Recreation Area. Two of the surveillance cars from the floating box had entered ahead and were in layup positions waiting for the Chrysler to enter the felony-stop trap.

“We got a decoy car in the lot,” Cespedes told Bosch. “A Ford pickup like the guy whose phone we used drives. Cortez goes to it, we move in.”

Bosch nodded. By leaning into the center console of the Mustang he was able to get an angle on the laptop screen and watch the four dash cameras from the surveillance cars. He noticed that two cars were moving in traffic, not having entered the park yet, and two were static. The view on these was now set to infrared. One angle was simply down a driveway next to a building that Bosch assumed was the golf course club house. The other looked across a parking lot at a pickup truck backed into a space at the far end of the lot.

“Is there a delay on these screens?” he asked.

“About two and a half seconds,” Cespedes said.

“Recording?”

“Recording.”

The radio went from an overlapping of voices reporting the movement of the target to complete silence for nearly thirty seconds before the trap was sprung.

Soon Bosch saw the Chrysler enter the parking lot in one of the static camera angles. But it stopped dead before approaching the pickup.

“What’s he doing?” Bosch asked.

“Just being cautious,” Cespedes said.

Cespedes then went on the radio.

“Give him a wink, Jimmy.”

“Roger that.”

On the dashcam from the follow car in the lot, the pickup’s headlights blinked twice. Bosch noticed that all four of the camera views were static now and on infrared.

“You got a guy in the pickup?” Bosch said, stating the obvious.

Cespedes held up a hand for silence. Now was not the time to give Bosch the play-by-play. He went back on the radio.

“Now bail, Jimmy. Get out of there.”

The Chrysler started moving toward the pickup. Bosch saw no indication that anyone had gotten out of the Ford. Cespedes timed the Chrysler’s approach, factored in the delay on the cameras, and then stomped on the radio transmit button on the floor of the car.

“Now! All units—go!”

All four camera views started moving and closing in. Far behind, Cespedes picked up speed and the Mustang entered the park. The car bounced on the uneven roadway as they sped toward the golf course but Bosch couldn’t take his eyes off the laptop screen. He gripped his armrest with one hand and the laptop mount with the other in an effort to hold it steady and watch the action as it played out.

The four surveillance cars closed in on the Chrysler as it pulled into a slot next to the pickup. Bosch could see as the cameras got closer that the truck was backed up to an ivy-draped wall. There would be no escape that way.

The four follow cars moved in, their dashcams revealing that they had a classic spread formation on the Chrysler. It was trapped with its nose against a wall and four cars with armed officers fanned behind it across a 120-degree arc.

The camera angles overlapped and Bosch could see SIS officers using the open doors of their cars as cover and pointing weapons at the Chrysler. There was no sound but Bosch knew they were yelling and demanding the surrender of the men inside.

Bosch could see two officers in combat stances moving to the left and right of the SIS cars to further contain the Chrysler but still keep an angle that would clear them of any cross fire.

For ten seconds, there was nothing. No movement from the Chrysler. Its smoked windows were up but the high-powered beams of the SIS cars cut through and Bosch could make out the silhouettes of the two men inside.

The Mustang entered the parking lot and sped toward the confrontation. Bosch glanced up to get his bearings but then looked back down at the camera screens. It was then that the front doors of the Chrysler opened simultaneously.

Bosch first saw the hands of the passenger come out of the car, held high and open as Tranquillo Cortez emerged to surrender. He was wearing the same flat-brimmed Dodgers hat he had worn on the day they met.

The driver followed but held only his left hand up as he emerged.

The Mustang had pulled behind one of the follow cars and was now close enough for Bosch to hear the tense voices from the officers. He looked over the laptop to watch the action play live.

“Hands!”

“Both hands!”

“Hands up!”

And then the warning turned to alarm.

“Gun! Gun!”

Bosch could only see the driver’s head and shoulders because one of the SIS cars was between them. He looked down at the laptop screen and to the camera angle showing the driver’s side of the Chrysler. The driver, a stocky man who had to twist his body to step out of the car, was emerging, turning and bringing his right arm up in a swinging motion. When his arm cleared his body, Bosch saw the gun.