Page 111
“Because where I’m going, there’s no room for him.”
“You’re a fucking psychopath.”
“Maybe. But it makes decisions easy.”
They came to the Mercedes. During the night, Bosch had found the key fob with the Mercedes logo on it in a tray on the kitchen counter with other household keys and remotes. He used it now to pop open the trunk. It was a big trunk but there were two sets of golf clubs taking up most of the space.
“Move over to the wall,” Bosch said. “Face against it.”
For once Novak did as instructed without question or argument. Keeping his eyes on him, Bosch reached into the trunk and removed the golf clubs one bag at a time, laying each one down on the floor. He glanced into the trunk and saw a handle for accessing the spare tire and the jack. He opened the compartment and took out the leather-wrapped tool set so Novak would not have access to it.
He closed the compartment and stepped back from the car.
“All right, come over here,” he ordered.
Novak did as instructed.
“Get in the trunk,” Bosch said.
“How?” Novak said.
“Figure it out.”
“You have to cut me loose so I can climb — ”
“Get in the trunk or I’m going to Tase you and dump you in face-first. Your choice.”
“Okay, okay.”
Novak turned and backed up to the bumper. He sat down, then leaned back into the trunk, bracing himself on his bound hands. He pulled his hips in, then brought his legs up and in.
Bosch yanked the Taser wires, and the electrodes pulled loose from Novak’s back.
“Ow! Goddamn it.”
Bosch said nothing. He ejected the cartridge, pulled a third one from his pocket, and snapped it into place.
“Where are we going?” Novak asked.
“You’ll find out soon enough,” Bosch said. “Get down.”
“Take me to the FBI. I’m a wanted man, Bosch.”
“Why? So you can make your deal and walk away from everything you’ve done? From that?” He pointed at the van. Novak said nothing. “Yeah, I know all about the deal you’re trying to make,” Bosch said. “And I got news for you: That’s not going to happen.”
He stared at Novak’s soulless eyes as he slowly closed the trunk.
47
AT MACLAREN, BOSCH jumped out of the Mercedes, bolt cutter in hand, and approached the rear gate. As he’d expected, a new lock and chain had been put on after the activities of the week before. Bosch quickly cut the lock and unraveled the chain. He pushed both sides of the gate open and returned to the car. He drove in, turned the car around, and backed it up to the delivery doors.
He killed the engine and got out. He went back to the gate, closed it, and wrapped the chain to secure it, even though there was no lock. The plywood had been put back in place to secure the doors and windows. Bosch got the heavy steel jack handle from the tool bag he had removed from the trunk. It had a flattened end for prying loose wheel covers. He used it to pry off the sheet of plywood covering the delivery door. He found the door unchained and unlocked. He turned back to the car and popped the trunk.
“Okay,” he said. “Out.”
Novak squinted as the light hit his eyes. He reached his legs over the edge of the trunk and pushed his way out. He didn’t realize where he was until he stood up and looked over the open trunk lid.
“What the hell is this, Bosch?” he said.
