The Black Echo

“Detective Bosch, it already has been explained. That is not your worry. It is also not your role to contradict the public statements of the department or the bureau on this matter. That, Detective, is an order. If you talk to the press about this, it will be the last time you do as a Los Angeles police detective.”

Now it was Bosch who could not look at them. He stared at the flowers on the table and said, “Then why the tape, the statement, all the suits here with you? What’s the point when you don’t want to know the truth?”

“We want the truth, Detective. You are confusing that with what we choose to tell the public. But out of the public eye I guarantee and the Federal Bureau of Investigation guarantees that we will complete your investigation and take appropriate action where fitting.”

“That’s pathetic.”

“And so are you, Detective. So are you.” Irving leaned over the bed with his face close enough that Bosch could smell his sour breath. “This is one of those rare times when you hold your future in your own hands, Detective Bosch. You do what is right, maybe you find yourself back at Robbery-Homicide. Or you can pick up that phone-yes, I am going to have the nurse turn it on-and call your pals at that rag over on Spring Street. But if you do that, you better ask them if there are any career opportunities there for a former homicide detective.”

The five of them then left, leaving Bosch alone with his anger. He sat up and was ready to take a swing with his good arm at a vase of daisies on the bedside table, when the door opened and Irving came back in. Alone. No tape recorder.

“Detective Bosch, this is unofficial. I told the others I forgot to give you this.”

He pulled a greeting card out of his coat pocket and propped it upright on the windowsill. On the front was a busty policewoman with her uniform blouse unbuttoned to the navel. She was rapping her nightstick in her hand impatiently. A bubble from her mouth said Get Well Soon or… Bosch would have to read the inside to get the punch line.

“I didn’t forget. I just wanted to say something private.” He stood mute at the foot of the bed until Bosch nodded. “You are good at what you do, Detective Bosch. Anybody knows that. But that doesn’t mean you are a good police officer. You refuse to be part of the Family. And that’s not good. And, meantime, you see, I have this department to protect. To me, that’s the most important job in the world. And one of the best ways to do that is to control public opinion. Keep everybody happy. So if it means putting out a couple of nice press releases and putting on a couple of big funerals with the mayor and the TV cameras and all the brass there, that’s what we are going to do. The protection of the department is more important than the fact that two dumb cops made a mistake.

“Same goes for the Federal Bureau of Investigation. They will grind you up before they publicly flog themselves with Rourke. So what I am telling you is that rule one is you have to go along to get along.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.”

“No, I do not know it. Deep down neither do you. Let me ask you something. Why is it, you think, that Lewis and Clarke were pulled back on the investigation of the Dollmaker shooting? Who do you think reined them in?”

When Bosch didn’t say anything Irving nodded. “You see, we had to make a decision. Would it be better to see one of our detectives dragged through the papers and brought up on criminal charges, or for him to be quietly demoted and transferred?” He let that hang there a few seconds before continuing. “Another thing. Lewis and Clarke came to me last week with the story about what you did to them. Cuffing them to that tree. Very brutal, that was. But they were as happy as a couple of high school cheerleaders after an evening with the football team. They had you by the balls and were ready to put the paper in right then. They-”

“They had me, but I had them.”

“No. That’s what I’m telling you. They came to me with this story about the bug in the phone, what you told them. But the thing is, they didn’t drop the bug in your phone, like you thought. I checked it out. That is what I am telling you. They had you.”

“Then who-” Bosch stopped right there. He knew the answer.

“I told them to hold back a few days. To watch, see what happened. Something was going on. Those two men were always hard to bridle when it came to you. They overstepped when they decided to stop that fellow Avery and then told him to take them back to the vault. They paid the price.”

“What about the FBI, what do they say about the bug?”

“I don’t know and I’m not asking. If I did, they would say, ‘What bug?’ You know that.”