Vol I Part 49 (2/2)
Bosch looked down the dark alley. In the intervals of blue light cast by a blinking neon arrow he could see a grouping of people in dark clothes in front of a door in the brick siding of the warehouse. Occasionally, the door would open and someone would go in or come out. He could hear the music when the door was open. Loud, techno-rock, a driving ba.s.s that seemed to shake the street. As his eyes adjusted, he saw that the people outside were drinking and smoking, cooling off after dancing. A few of them held blown-up balloons. They would lean on the hoods of the cars near the door, suck from the balloon and pa.s.s it on as if it were a joint.
”The balloons are full of nitrous oxide,” Rickard said.
”Laughing gas?”
”Right. They sell it at these raves for five bucks a balloon. They can make a couple of grand off one tank stolen from a hospital or dentist.”
A girl fell off a car hood and her balloon of gas shot away into the dark. Others helped her up. Bosch could hear their shrieks of laughter.
”That legal?”
”It's a flopper. It's legal to process - a lot of legit uses for it. But it's a misdee to consume recreationally. We don't even bother with it, though. Somebody wants to suck on it and fall down and split their head open, have at it, I say. Why should - there he is now.”
The slight figure of a teenager walked through the warehouse door and over to the cars parked along the alley.
”Watch him go down,” Rickard said.
The figure disappeared behind a car, dropping down.
”See, he's making a dip. Now he'll wait a few minutes 'til it dries a little and his customer comes out. Then he'll make the deal.”
”Want to go get him?”
”No. We take him with just the one sherm, that's nothing. That's personal possession. They won't even keep him overnight in the drunk tank. We need him with his dip if we wanna squeeze him good.”
”So what do we do?”
”You just get back in your car. I want you to go back around on Cahuenga and come up the alley the other way. I think you can get in closer. Park it and then try to work your way up to be my backup. I'll come down from this end. I got some old clothes in the trunk. Undercover s.h.i.+t. I got a plan.”
Bosch then went back to the Caprice, turned it around and drove out of the alley. He drove around the block and came up from the south side. He found a spot in front of a Dumpster and stopped. When he saw the hunched-over figure of Rickard moving down the alley, Harry got out and started moving. They were closing in on the warehouse door from both sides. But while Bosch remained in the shadows, Rickard - now wearing a grease-stained sweats.h.i.+rt and carrying a bag of laundry - was walking down the center of the alley, singing. Because of the noise from the warehouse Bosch wasn't sure but he thought it was Percy Sledge's ”When a Man Loves a Woman,” delivered in a drunken slur.
Rickard had the undivided attention of the people standing outside the warehouse door. A couple of the stoned girls cheered his singing. The distraction allowed Bosch to move within four cars of the door and about three cars from the spot where Tyge had his dip.
As he pa.s.sed the spot, Rickard stopped his song in mid-chorus and acted as if he had just spotted a treasure. He ducked between the two parked cars and came up with the beer bottle in hand. He was about to place it in his bag when the boy moved quickly between the cars and grabbed the bottle. Rickard refused to let go and spun so that the boy's back was now to Bosch. Harry started moving.
”It's mine, man,” Rickard yelled.
”I put it there, bro. Let it go before it spills.”
”Go get your own, man. This here's mine.”
”Let it go!”
”You sure it's yours?”
”It's mine!”
Bosch hit the boy forcefully from behind. He let go of the bottle and doubled over the trunk of the car. Bosch kept him pinned there, pus.h.i.+ng his forearm against the boy's neck. The bottle stayed in Rickard's hand. None of it spilled.
”Well, if you say so, I guess it's yours,” the narc said. ”And I guess that makes you under arrest.”
Bosch pulled his cuffs off his belt and hooked the boy up and then pulled him off the trunk. Some of the others were gathering around now.
”f.u.c.k off, people,” Rickard said loudly. ”Go back inside and sniff your laughing gas. Go get deaf. This here don't concern you unless you want to go along with this boy to the s.h.i.+t can.”
He bent down to Tyge's ear and said, ”Right, bro? bro?”
When n.o.body in the crowd moved, Rickard took a menacing step toward them and they scattered. A couple of the girls ran back into the warehouse. The music drowned out Rickard's laugh. He then turned around and grabbed Tyge by the arm.
”Let's go. Harry, let's take your wheels.”
They drove in silence for a while toward the station on Wilc.o.x. They hadn't discussed it earlier but Harry was going to let Rickard make the play. Rickard was riding in the back with the boy. In the mirror, Harry saw he had greasy, unkempt brown hair that fell to his shoulders. About five years earlier he should have had braces put on his teeth but one look at him and Bosch could tell he came from a home where things like that were not a consideration. He had a gold earring and an uninterested look on his face. But the teeth were what got to Bosch. Crooked and protruding, they more than anything else showed the desperation of his life.
”How old are you now, Kerwin?” Rickard said. ”And don't bother lying. We got a file on you at the station. I can check.”
”Eighteen. And you can wipe your a.s.s with the file. I don't give a s.h.i.+t.”
#8220;Wooo!” Rickard yelped. ”Eighteen. Looks like we got ourselves an Adult here, Harry. No holding hands all the way to the juvie hall. We'll go put this kid in seven thousand, see how quick he starts keeping house with one of the heavies.”
Seven thousand was what most cops and criminals called the county adult detention center, on account of the phone number for inmate information, 555-7000. The jail was downtown and it was four floors of noise and hate and violence sitting atop the county sheriff's headquarters. Somebody was stabbed there every day. Somebody raped every hour. And nothing was ever done about it. n.o.body cared, unless you were the one getting raped or stabbed. The sheriff's deputies who ran the place called it an NHI detail. No Humans Involved. Bosch knew if they were going to squeeze this kid that Rickard had picked the right way to go.
”We got you bagged and tagged, Kerwin,” Rickard said. ”There's at least two ounces in here. Got you cold for possession with intent to sell, dude. You're gone.”
”f.u.c.k you.”
The kid drew each word out with sarcasm. He was going to go down fighting. Bosch noticed that Rickard was holding the green beer bottle outside the window so the fumes wouldn't fill the car and give them headaches.
”That's not nice, Kerwin. Especially, when the man driving here is willing to do a deal. ...Now if it was me, I'd just let you make your deals with the brothers in seven thousand. Couple days in there and you'll be shaving your legs and walking 'round in pink underwear they dipped in the Hawaiian Punch.”
”f.u.c.k off, pig. Just get me to a phone.”
They were on Sunset, coming up to Wilc.o.x. Almost there and Rickard hadn't even gotten around to what they wanted. It didn't look as if the kid was going to deal, no matter what they wanted.
”You'll get a phone when we feel like giving you a phone. You're tough now, white boy, but it don't last. Everybody gets broken down inside. You'll see. Unless you want to help us out. We just want to talk to your pal Dance.”
Bosch turned onto Wilc.o.x. The station was two blocks away. The kid said nothing and Rickard let the silence go for a block before giving another try.
”What do you say, kid? Give an address. I'll dump this s.h.i.+t right now. Don't be one of those fools who think seven thousand makes them the man. Like it's some f.u.c.king rite of pa.s.sage. It ain't, kid. It's just the end of the line. That what you want?”
”I want you to die.”
Bosch pulled into the driveway that led to the station's rear parking lot. They would have to process the arrest here first, book the evidence, then take the kid downtown. Harry knew they would have to go through with it. The kid wasn't talking. They had to show him that they weren't bluffing.
<script>