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“The man outside wants to talk to you,” Sidewalls said. “Right after my friend here checks you out.”

Topknot went behind Bosch and grabbed him by the arms.

“Put ’em up, tough guy,” he said.

Bosch raised his arms and expected some kind of retaliatory assault, but nothing came other than a rough but professional weapons check. Topknot ran his hands down Bosch’s legs and stopped at the left ankle.

“What do we have here?” he said.

He pulled up the pant leg, exposing the ankle holster that Bosch had been wearing since the first break-in. It carried a seven-shot mini-pistol. Topknot pulled the gun, stood up, and handed it to Sidewalls.

“Nice Ruger,” Sidewalls said. “What’s it carry?”

“Three-eighties,” Bosch said. “Six in the magazine, one in the chamber.”

“Is it loaded?”

“Yes, it’s loaded. Don’t hurt yourself.”

“You’re funny, Bosch.”

He held up the gun and pointed it at Bosch’s face.

“Thanks for this,” he said. “I’ll put it to good use.”

Topknot finished his search.

“Clean,” he said.

“What’s the man want to talk to me about?” Bosch asked. “How easy it is to pop open a sliding door? I know I locked it this time.”

“He’ll talk about whatever the fuck he wants to talk about,” Sidewalls said. “Let’s go.”

He grabbed Bosch by the upper arm and led him to the sliders. He opened one side and shoved Bosch through.

“He’s clean,” he announced. “Took a boot gun off him.”

Bosch stepped onto the deck. He was seriously outnumbered and unarmed, and he was scared, but he didn’t want to show it.

“I’m pretty sure you have a much better view from up on Mulholland,” he said.

Novak replied without turning or even lowering the binoculars from his eyes.

“I do,” he said. “But this ain’t bad, Bosch. You did good for yourself, considering your humble beginnings.”

Novak appeared to be locked on something specific across the pass.

“So,” he said, “are these for watching great horned owls?”

“Sometimes,” Bosch answered. “There’s a red-tailed hawk nest at the top of the coastal pine to your left. The tallest one. There’s three babies about to fly. They’re predators — like you, Novak.”

Novak glanced back at him for a moment and then returned to the field glasses and the object he was focused on.

“You want to talk about predators, Bosch?” he said. “I’m looking at the home my ex stole from me in the divorce. We had hawks up there too. I loved that place. Nobody knew I had it and nobody could get near it without me seein’ them coming.

“And Jesus, she still has those fucking chimes that ring all night. She got them just to spite me, the bitch.”

There was a beat of silence. Bosch considered grabbing Novak’s legs and pivoting him over the guardrail and down into the brush below. It probably wouldn’t kill him, but he’d be out of commission, so it would be two against one on the deck. But he made no move. He knew that the longer he talked to Novak, the better his chances were of picking up information. There were several stolen missiles still at large and the man on the deck with him knew where they were.