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AFTER A MORNING walk without the cane to work out the stiffness in his new knee, Bosch drove to the arts district in downtown to the address Haller had texted him. Bosch recognized the place as a former taxi depot he had visited decades before on a case involving the murder of a cabdriver. Bosch had come to interview the employers of the victim. Now it had a small sign over the door that said MICHAEL HALLER AND ASSOCIATES. It did not say what services Haller and his associates provided. That was just something you had to know.

The door was unlocked, and Bosch stepped into what had formerly been the space where cabs were stored and repaired. There were three open, deep bays behind closed garage doors. It still had the indelible smell of engine oil, even though the concrete floor was clean and polished the way so many repurposed industrial spaces in the arts district were.

“Hi, Harry.”

It was a greeting from Lorna Taylor, Haller’s office manager and second ex-wife. She stood up from an L-shaped desk to welcome him. They awkwardly hugged. Bosch had never been good at that stuff.

“Lorna, how are you?” he asked.

“I’m good,” she said. “I’ve got you all set up in here. Mickey has court, but he should be back before you leave. It’s going to be a quick appearance.”

She led Bosch to what looked like a room in one of the other bays, created with walls and a ceiling of chain-link fencing. There were what appeared to be rolled-up curtains made of copper mesh. Through the fencing, Bosch could see a long folding table with a computer on it. Next to the table was an industrial-size printer.

“This is our Faraday cage,” Lorna said.

Bosch had no idea what that meant, and his face must have shown it.

“We drop the copper mesh over it if we have to deal with, shall we say, competitive cases,” Lorna explained. “It creates an electromagnetic shield. Nothing gets in, but more important, nothing gets out.”

“You mean like with hackers?” Bosch asked.

“Exactly. We needed it on the AI case Mickey had last year. He was worried the tech bros were going to try to hack our files.”

Bosch nodded.

“Did they?” he asked.

“They might have tried, but thanks to Faraday, they were not successful,” Lorna said. “I mean, as far as we could tell.”

“At least according to Faraday?”

“There is no Faraday. I mean, there was, but he died in, like, the 1860s. It’s just named after him. But there is a company that built this for us.”

They entered the cage and Lorna gestured to the chair in front of the computer.

“We’re not worried about hacking today,” she said. “This is just the spare computer. I pulled up the discovery file we put together on Charles Lamb. There wasn’t a whole lot. Mickey said you called him Chops.”

“Well, yeah, that’s what they called him back then,” Bosch said. “As in lamb chops.”

“It’s sad, what happened.”

“Yeah, I guess. So can I print stuff if I want?”

“You can — hit command P. But don’t tell me or Mickey about it.”

“Because it’s supposed to be sealed?”

“Uh-huh. So I guess I’ll leave you to it. Let me know if you need anything. I could make you a coffee if you want. A latte?”

“No, I’m good. I had coffee already.”

“Yeah, you don’t seem like a latte sort of guy.”

“Uh, yeah, I guess not.”

“Okay, well, I’m here if you need me.”