The Black Echo

“We ran each name for criminal records,” she began. “We did a telephone interview and later a face-to-face. If an agent got weird vibes or somebody’s story didn’t play well, then another agent would come by unannounced to do a follow-up interview. Kind of get another opinion. I was not part of that. We had a second crew who handled most of the field interviews. If there is a particular name there that you are interested in, I could pull the interview summaries.”

“What about the Vietnamese names on the lists? I count thirty-four boxholders with Vietnamese names, four are on the no-loss list, one on the dead-end list.”

“What about the Vietnamese? There is also probably a breakout, if you look for it, on Chinese, Korean, whites, blacks and Latinos. These were equal opportunity bandits.”

“Yeah, but you came up with a connection to Vietnam in Meadows. Now we have Franklin and Delgado, possibly involved. All three were MPs in Vietnam. We’ve got Charlie Company, which may or may not have a part in this. So, after Meadows became a suspect and you started pulling military records of tunnel rats, did you do any further checking with the Vietnamese on this list?”

“No-well, yes. On the foreign nationals we ran their names through INS to see how long they’d been here, whether they were legal. But that was about it.” She was quiet a moment. “I can see what you are getting at. It’s a flaw in the way we handled it. See, we didn’t develop Meadows as a possible suspect until a few weeks after the robbery. By then most of these people had already been interviewed. After we started looking at Meadows, I don’t think we went back to see if any of the names on the list fit in with him. You think one of the Vietnamese could have somehow been part of this?”

“I don’t know what I’m thinking. Just looking for connections. Coincidences that aren’t coincidences.”

Bosch took a notebook out of his coat pocket and started making a list of the names, DOBs and addresses of the Vietnamese boxholders. He put the four who reported no loss and the name from the dead-end list at the top of his own list. He had just finished the list and closed the notebook when Rourke walked into the squad room, his hair still wet from his morning shower. He was carrying a coffee mug that said Boss on the side of it. He saw Bosch and Wish and then looked at his watch.

“Getting an early start?”

“Our witness, he turned up dead,” Wish said, no expression on her face.

“Jesus. Where? They get somebody?”

Wish shook her head and looked at Bosch with a face that warned him not to start anything. Rourke looked at him also.

“Does it relate to this?” he said. “Any evidence of that?”

“We think so,” Bosch said.

“Jesus!”

“You said that,” Bosch said.

“Should we take the case from LAPD, add it to the Meadows investigation?” He said this looking directly at Wish. Bosch was not part of the decision-making team here. She didn’t answer, so Rourke added, “Should we have offered him protection?”

Bosch couldn’t resist. “From who?”

A strand of wet hair dropped out of place and across Rourke’s forehead. His face flushed deeply red.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“How’d you know LAPD had the case?”

“What?”

“You just asked if we should take the case from LAPD. How’d you know they had it? We didn’t say.”

“I just assumed. Bosch, I resent what that implies and I resent the hell out of you. Are you implying that I or someone-If you are saying there is a law enforcement leak on this case, then I will request an internal review today. But I’ll tell you right now that if there was a leak it wasn’t from the bureau.”

“Then where the hell else could it have been? What happened to the reports we filed with you? Who saw them?”

Rourke shook his head.

“Harry, don’t be ridiculous. I understand your feelings, but let’s calm down and think for a minute. The witness was snatched off the street and interviewed at Hollywood Station, then dropped off at a public youth shelter.

“And, lastly, you’re being followed around by your own department, Detective. I’m sorry, but even your own people apparently don’t trust you.”

Bosch’s face grew dark. He felt betrayed in a sense. Rourke could only have known about the tail through Wish. She had made Lewis and Clarke. Why hadn’t she said anything to him instead of Rourke? Bosch looked over at her but she was looking down at her desk. He looked back at Rourke, who was nodding his head as if it were on a spring.