'You called him, too.'

'While you were in here with the doctor.'

'So then what do you want from me? You got the story from him, what's left?'

Irving drummed his fingers on the tabletop.

'What do I want? What I want is for you to tell me that what you are doing, what you have been doing, is in no way connected to what has happened to Lieutenant Pounds.'

'I can't, Chief. I don't know what happened to him, other than that he's dead.'

Irving studied Bosch for a long moment, contemplating something, deciding whether to treat him as an equal and tell him the story.

'I guess I expected an immediate denial. Your answer already suggests that you think there might be a correlation. I can't tell you how much that bothers me.'

'Anything is possible, Chief. Let me ask you this. You said Brockman and his crew were out chasing other leads — I guess avenues is what you said. Are any of these avenues viable? I mean, did Pounds have a secret life or are they just out there chasing their tails?'

'There's nothing that stands out. I'm afraid you were the best lead. Brockman still thinks so. He wants to pursue the theory that you hired a hitman of some sort and then flew to Florida to establish an alibi.'

'Yeah, that's a good one.'

'I think it stretches credibility some. I told him to drop it. For the moment. And I'm telling you to drop what you are doing. This woman in Florida sounds like the kind of person you could spend some time with. I want you to get on a plane and go back to her. Stay a couple weeks. When you come back, we'll talk about going back on the homicide table at Hollywood.'

Bosch was unsure whether there was a threat in all that Irving had just said. If not a threat, then maybe a bribe.

'And if I don't?'

'If you don't, then you are stupid. And you deserve whatever happens to you.'

'What is it that you think I'm doing, Chief?'

'I don't think, I know what you're doing. It's easy. You pulled the book on your mother's homicide. Why at this particular point in time you've done this, I don't know. But you're out running a freelance investigation and that's a problem for us. You have to stop it, Harry, or I'll stop you. I'll shut you down. Permanently.' 'Who are you protecting?'

Bosch saw the anger move into Irving's face as his skin turned from pink to an intense red. His eyes seemed to grow smaller and darker with fury.

'Don't you ever suggest such a thing. I've dedicated my life to this depart-'

'It's yourself, isn't it? You knew her. You found her. You're afraid of being dragged into this if I put something together on it. I bet you already knew everything McKittrick told you on the phone.' 'That's ridiculous, I -'

'Is it? Is it? I don't think so. I've already talked to one witness who remembers you from those days on the Boulevard beat.' 'What witness?'

'She said she knew you. She knows my mother knew you, too.'

'The only person I am protecting is you, Bosch. Can't you see that? I'm ordering you to stop this investigation.' 'You can't. I don't work for you anymore. I'm on leave, remember? Involuntary leave. That makes me a citizen now, and I can do whatever I goddamn want to do as long as it's legal.'

'I could charge you with possession of stolen documents — the murder book.'

'It wasn't stolen. Besides, what if you bullshit a case, what's that, a misdemeanor? They'll laugh you out of the city attorney's office on your ass with that.' 'But you'd lose your job. That would be it.'

'You're a little late with that one, Chief. A week ago that would've been a valid threat. I'd have to consider it. But it doesn't matter anymore. I'm free of all of that bullshit now and this is all that matters to me and I don't care what I have to do, I'm doing it.'

Irving was silent and Bosch guessed that the assistant chief was realizing that Bosch had moved beyond his reach. Irving's hold over Bosch's job and future had been his leverage before. But Bosch had finally broken free. Bosch began again in a low, calm voice.

'If you were me, Chief, could you just walk away? What does doing what I do for the department matter if I can't do this for her ... and for me?'

He stood up and put the notebook into his jacket pocket.

'I'm going. Where's the rest of my stuff?'

'No.'

Bosch hesitated. Irving looked up at him and Bosch saw the anger was gone now.

'I did nothing wrong,' Irving said quiedy.

'Sure you did,' Bosch said just as quietly. He leaned over the table until he was only a few feet away. 'We all did, Chief We let it go. That was our crime. But not anymore. At least, not with me. If you want to help, you know how to reach me.'

He headed toward the door.

'What do you want?'

Bosch looked back at him.

'Tell me about Pounds. I need to know what happened. It's the only way I'll know if it's connected.'

'Then sit down.'

Bosch took the chair by the door and sat down. They both took some time to calm down before Irving finally spoke.

'We started looking for him Saturday night. We found

his car Sunday noon in Griffith Park, One of the tunnels closed after the quake. It was like they knew we'd be looking from the air, so they put the car in a tunnel.'

'Why'd you start looking before you knew he was dead?'

'The wife. She started calling Saturday morning. She said he'd gotten a call Friday night at home, she didn't know who. But whoever it was managed to convince Pounds to leave the house and meet him. Pounds didn't tell his wife what it was about. He said he'd be back in an hour or two. He left and never came back. In the morning she called us.'

'Pounds is unlisted, I assume.'

'Yes. That gives rise to the probability it was someone in the department.'

Bosch thought about this.

'Not necessarily. It just had to be someone with connections to people in the city. People that could get his number with a phone call. You ought to put out the word. Grant amnesty to anyone who comes forward and says they gave up the number. Say you'll go light in exchange for the name of the person they gave it to. That's who you want. Chances are whoever gave out the number didn't know what was going to happen.'

Irving nodded.

'That's an idea. Within the department there are hundreds who could get his number. There may be no other way to go.'

'Tell me more about Pounds.'

'We went to work right there in the tunnel. By Sunday the media had wind that we were looking for him, so the tunnel worked to our advantage. No helicopters flying over, bothering us. We just set up lights in the tunnel.'

'He was in the car?'

Bosch was acting like he knew nothing. He knew that if

he expected Hinojos to respect his confidences, he must in turn respect hers.

'Yes, he was in the trunk. And, my God, was it bad. He... He'd been stripped of his clothes. He'd been beaten. Then — then there was the evidence of torture

Bosch waited but Irving had stopped.

'What? What did they do to him?'

'They burned him. The genitals, nipples, fingers ... My God.'

Irving ran his hand over his shaven scalp and closed his eyes while he did it. Bosch could see that he could not get the images out of his mind. Bosch was having trouble with it, too. His guilt was like a palpable object in his chest.

'It was like they wanted something from him,' Irving said. 'But he couldn't give it. He didn't have it and ... and they kept at him.'

Suddenly, Bosch felt the slight tremor of an earthquake and reached for the table to steady himself. He looked at Irving for confirmation and realized there was no tremor. It was himself, shaking again.

'Wait a minute.'

The room tilted slightly then righted itself.

'What is it?'

'Wait a minute.'

Without another word Bosch stood up and went out the door. He quickly went down the hall to the men's room by the water fountain. There was someone in front of one of the sinks shaving but Bosch didn't take the time to look at him. He pushed through one of the stall doors and vomited into the toilet, barely making it in time.