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They took an elevator up to the fourth floor and entered the offices of the US attorney for the Central District of California. They walked down a hall, and Singer knocked once on a door with a slide-in plate that said DANIEL CUTLER, ASSISTANT US ATTORNEY. Cutler was getting up from his chair as they entered. He sat on the front corner of the desk and adopted a casual pose, which told Bosch that this meeting was not casual in the least. Cutler was in his mid-forties, with a shaved head and broad shoulders that stretched his white button-down shirt and indicated that he worked out with weights regularly. His dark blue tie was pulled loose at the collar.

“Mr. Bosch, come in,” he said. “Dan Cutler. Have a seat.”

He pointed to one of the chairs in front of his desk but didn’t offer his hand to Bosch. He folded his arms across his chest, immediately losing the casual demeanor.

“I think I’d rather stand, if you don’t mind,” Bosch said. “At least until I know what’s going on here.”

“Sure, suit yourself,” Cutler said. “But you don’t have to worry. I want this to be a very relaxed and collegial conversation.”

“Is that why you sent two agents to grab me off the street?”

“I’m sorry about how that worked out. I wanted this to be completely voluntary on your part.”

Bosch glanced behind him. Cavanaugh was leaning against the wall near the door. Singer had stepped out.

“My experience with the Bureau is that there’s voluntary and there’s involuntary voluntary,” Bosch said.

“Well, let’s not dwell on it,” Cutler said. “Let’s see if we can’t help each other here.”

“You’re investigating Nikolai Novak and you want to know why I’m investigating him.”

“Exactly. You really got into it with his people today.”

“Almost cost me a kidney and a spleen. I was hoping somebody might come to the rescue, but I guess you guys were happy just to watch on the drone.”

“Well, we’ll talk about that.”

Cutler reached behind him, grabbed a legal pad off the desk, and referred to it as he spoke.

“We’ve done some backgrounding on you, Mr. Bosch,” he said.

“Great,” Bosch said. “What did you find?”

“Former LAPD, nearly three decades in homicide, great clearance record but not much of a team player. Are you a prickly pear, Mr. Bosch?”

“I don’t suffer fools too well, if that’s what you mean.”

Bosch glanced back over his shoulder at Cavanaugh as if to underline the point. Cutler kept his eyes on his notes as he continued.

“We also learned that you and Nicky Novak have been pals since you were teenagers at MacLaren and he went by the name Nick Stokely.”

“Your intel is wrong. He — ”

“And that many years later, you were first on scene at a house where a quadruple murder had occurred that Novak was circumstantially tied to. Are you going to tell us that that was merely a coincidence?”

“I’m going to tell you that whatever you’re thinking is wrong. Wonderland was not my case and Stokely and I were never friends.”

“First on scene. That tells me you were probably in that house alone. With the evidence.”

“If you’re implying that I — ”

Bosch stopped himself. He knew that as a prosecutor, Cutler was a skilled questioner. He was baiting Bosch into revealing information. Harry decided to make him work harder for it.

“What were you doing up on Mulholland today watching his house?” Cutler asked.

“I could tell you what I told him,” Bosch said. “But I know you won’t believe it. So I’ll make a deal with you, Mr. Cutler. You tell me what you were doing with your drone up there, and I’ll tell you what I was doing.”

Cutler nodded as though he was considering the deal and glanced past Bosch at Cavanaugh. Bosch didn’t bother to turn and look at the agent. He guessed that he was shaking his head — no deal.