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Ballard nodded. She knew that Bosch was ready. She had checked with him earlier that morning and given him every opportunity to back out of the operation, but he refused. He told her that the situationwent beyond recovering her badge. He wanted to be part of the team that took Dehaven down.
At 7:46 the follow team reported that Dehaven’s van was on the California Incline and three to five minutes from the beach parking lot. The tension in Ballard’s chest tightened and she pushed her chair back and stood. It was the only way to deal with the adrenaline hit. She started shifting her weight from one foot to another, her eyes intent on the screens.
“Renée, you’re jumpy,” Olmstead said. “You need to relax. Everything is in hand.”
“I can’t relax,” Ballard said. “Not till this thing is over and he’s safe. I pulled him into this.”
She studied the screens that showed four images of Bosch from four different camera angles. He was still sitting, arms crossed, on the back bumper. He certainly seemed calm even if she wasn’t.
“I need to be down there with him,” she said.
“Too dangerous,” Olmstead said. “You can’t even get out of the van at this point. We don’t know what other eyes are out there.”
“I know, I know. Are all of these frames fixed? They’re too tight. You can’t see what’s happening in the lot.”
“Hold on.”
Olmstead made a radio call to one of the lot surveillance teams and told them to widen their camera’s angle. It was the camera on the southwest corner of the lot that offered a view over the right side of the Cherokee and Bosch’s left shoulder. The angle widened and Ballard could see the entire lot, including the roller-hockey game being played on the north end.
“That better for you?” Olmstead asked.
“Better,” Ballard said. “But you let them play hockey with this going down?”
“They play every Saturday morning. We don’t know if Dehavenknows that. We cancel it and it could be a tell. It could blow the whole operation. Nothing is going to happen here. We’re going to follow them back to the nest, remember?”
“I remember. It’s just that plans don’t always go as intended.”
Almost as soon as she said it, she saw the van she recognized as Dehaven’s drive down the ramp off Ocean and into the parking lot. Because it was so early and the lot was largely empty, the van cut across the painted lines of the parking rows, heading directly toward Bosch.
Ballard watched Harry push off the bumper and stand up to meet it.
“Here we go,” Olmstead said.
29
THE VAN PULLEDup at an angle to the left rear side of the Cherokee. On one of the screens, Ballard could see that Dehaven was in the passenger seat. The camera positions and a light reflection off the windshield did not allow a clear view of the driver. Bosch walked directly to the passenger window to confront Dehaven. His back was to the open hatch of the Cherokee, and his words were partially muffled by his body and the limited reach of the bug. Ballard leaned over Olmstead’s shoulder to get closer to the speaker.
“You… alone,” Bosch said.
“Relax,” Dehaven said. “He’s…”
Bosch pointed into the van at the driver.
“He… the van,” he said.
“Okay, not a…” Dehaven said. “Just take… cool.”
Bosch turned back to the Cherokee, his voice now directed at the bug.
“I’ll be cool as long as he stays in the fucking van,” he said.
Dehaven opened his door and got out behind him. Bosch walked to a position under the hatch where he knew his words would be clear and recorded.
Ballard checked all corners of the screens for a red dot or other indicator. “You are recording this, right?” she asked.
Olmstead said nothing. Spencer said nothing.
“What the fuck?” Ballard said. “You’re not recording this?”
