She checked her watch.
“I’ve got time. I’ve also got a computer.”
I first took fifteen minutes to tell her about my private investigation and everything that had happened since Lawton Cross had called me out of the blue and I had pulled down the box of old cases off the closet shelf. Then I let her put the CD in her computer and watch the surveillance video. She didn’t recognize Lawton Cross until I told her who he was. She reacted with appropriate outrage when she viewed the section with Agents Milton and Carney. I had her turn it off before Danny Cross came into the room and comforted her husband.
“First question, were they real agents?” she asked after the computer kicked the disk out.
“Yeah, they’re part of the anti-terrorism squad working out of Westwood.”
She shook her head in disgust.
“If this ever gets to the Times and then onto TV, then -”
“I don’t want it to get there. Right now, that is the worst-case scenario.”
“Why not, Harry? Those are rogue agents. At least that one Milton is. And the other is just as guilty for standing there and letting him do it.”
She gestured toward her computer, where the surveillance video had been replaced by a screensaver that showed a bucolic scene of a house on a cliff overlooking the ocean, the waves rolling endlessly to shore.
“Do you think this is what the attorney general and the Congress of the United States wanted when they enacted legislation that changed and streamlined the bureau’s rules and tools after September eleventh?”
“No, I don’t,” I answered. “But they should have known what could happen. What’s the saying, absolute power corrupts absolutely? Something like that. Anyway, it’s a given that this sort of thing would happen. They should have known. The difference here is that that isn’t some Middle Eastern bag man on there. That’s an American citizen. He’s a former cop and he’s a goddamn quadriplegic because he took a bullet in the line of duty.”
Langwiser nodded somberly.
“That is exactly why you should get this out. It has to be see-”
“Janis, are you working for me or should I gather all this up and just find somebody else?”
She threw her hands up in surrender.
“Yes, I’m working for you, Harry. I’m just saying that this should not be allowed to just go by.”
“I’m not talking about letting it go by. I just don’t want it out yet. I need to use it as leverage first. I need to get what I want out of it first.”
“Which is what?”
“I was going to get to that but you started in like Ralph Nader.”
“Okay, I’m sorry. I’m all calmed down now. Tell me your plan, Harry.”
And so I did.
25
Kate Mantilini’s on Wilshire Boulevard had a row of high-backed booths that afforded their inhabitants more interior privacy than the lap dance cubicles in the back rooms of any of the strip clubs in town. That was why I chose the restaurant for the meeting. It was very private yet very public. I was there fifteen minutes before the appointed time, got a booth with a window fronting Wilshire and waited. Special Agent Peoples got there a little early, too. He had to walk along the row of booths and look into each one to find me. He then slipped silently and morosely into the space across from me.
“Agent Peoples, glad you could make it.”
“I didn’t feel like I had much choice.”
“I guess you didn’t.”
He flipped open one of the menus that were on the table.
“Never been here before. Food any good?”
“It’s not bad. Good chicken pot pie on Thursdays.”
“It’s not Thursday.”
“And you’re not here to eat.”
He looked up from the menu and gave me his best deadeye stare but he didn’t have the juice this time. We both knew I was holding the high card this time. I looked out the window and glanced up and down Wilshire.
“You have your people out there, Agent Peoples? Are they waiting for me?”
“I came alone as instructed by your attorney.”
“Well, just so you’re clear. If your people grab me again or make any move against my attorney, then the consequences are that the surveillance recording you were e-mailed will go to the media and out across the Internet. There are people who will know if I disappear. They’ll put it out, no hesitation.”
Peoples shook his head.
“You keep saying that. ‘Disappear.’ This isn’t South America, Bosch. And we’re not Nazis.”
I nodded in agreement.
“Sitting in this nice restaurant it sure doesn’t seem so. But when I was sitting in that cube on the ninth floor and nobody knew I was there, that was a different story. Mouse Aziz and those other guys you’ve got up there probably don’t know the difference between California and Chile right now either.”
“And you are defending them now, is that it? The men who would like to see this country burn to the ground.”
“I’m not de-”
I stopped when the waitress came to the booth. She said her name was Kathy and asked if we were ready to order. Peoples ordered coffee and I ordered coffee and an ice cream sundae with no whipped cream. After Kathy left, Peoples looked at me funny.
“I’m retired. I can have a sundae.”
“Some retirement.”
“They make good sundaes here and they’re open late. That’s a good combination.”
“I’ll remember that.”
“Did you ever see the movie Heat? This is the place where Pacino the cop meets De Niro the burglar. It’s where they both tell each other they won’t hesitate to put the other down if it comes to that.”
Peoples nodded and we held each other’s eyes for a long moment. Message delivered. I decided to get down to the business at hand.
“So what did you think of my clock camera?”
The facade dropped and Peoples suddenly looked wounded. He looked as though he had been thrown to the lions. He knew what the future held for him if that recording got out. Milton worked for him; therefore he’d take the fall, too. The Rodney King tape cut a swath through the LAPD that went all the way to the top. Peoples was smart enough to know he would get trampled if he didn’t contain this problem.
“I was disgusted by what I saw. First off, I apologize to you and my plan is to go out to see that man, Lawton Cross, and apologize as well.”
“That’s nice of you.”
“Don’t think for a moment that that is how we operate. That it is the status quo. That I condone it. Agent Milton is gone. He’s out. I knew that the moment I saw the recording. I’m not promising you he will be prosecuted, but he won’t be carrying a badge for very long. Not an FBI badge. I’ll see to that.”
I nodded.
“Right, you’ll see to that.”
I said it with high-octane sarcasm and I could see it put some color in his cheeks. The color of anger.
“You called the meeting, Bosch. What do you want?”
There it was. The question I was waiting for.
“You know what I want. I want you people off my back. I want my files and my notes back. I want Lawton Cross’s file back. I want a copy of the LAPD murder book-which I know you must have-and I want access to Aziz and what you have on him.”
“What we have on him is classified. It’s a national security matter. We can’t -”
