9 Dragons

they were on the path.
    Bosch swung the backpack around and unzipped it. He handed Eleanor the photo print from the video. He then handed her a flashlight from the bag as well.
    “That’s a freeze-frame from the video. When Maddie kicks at the guy and the camera moves, it catches the window.”
    Eleanor turned on the flashlight and studied the print while they walked. Sun walked several paces behind them. Bosch continued to explain his plan.
    “You have to remember that everything in the window is reflected backwards. But you see the goalposts on top of the Bank of China building? I have a magnifying glass here if you want to use it.”
    “Yes, I see it.”
    “Well, between those posts you can see the pagoda down here. I think it’s called the Lion Pagoda or the Lion Lookout. I’ve been up here with Maddie.”
    “So have I. It’s called the Lion Pavilion. Are you sure it’s on here?”
    “Yeah, you need the glass. Wait till we get up here.”
    The path curved and Bosch saw the pagoda-style structure ahead. It was in a prominent position, offering one of the better views from the Peak. Whenever Bosch had been here in the past it was crowded with tourists and cameras. In the gray light of dawn it was empty. Bosch stepped through the arched entrance and out to the viewing pavilion. The giant city spread out below him. There were a billion lights out there in the receding darkness and he knew one of them belonged to his daughter. He was going to find it.
    Eleanor stood next to him and held the printout under the beam of the flashlight. Sun took a bodyguard’s position behind them.
    “I don’t understand,” she said. “You think you can reverse this and pinpoint where she is?”
    “That’s right.”
    “Harry?…”
    “There are other markers. I just want to narrow it down. Kowloon is a big place.”
    Bosch pulled his binoculars from the backpack. They were powerful magnifiers he used on surveillance assignments. He raised them to his eyes.
    “What other markers?”
    It was still too dark. Bosch lowered the binoculars. He would have to wait. He thought maybe they should have gone to Wan Chai to get the gun first.
    “What other markers, Harry?”
    Bosch stepped close to her so he could see the photo print and point out the markers Barbara Starkey had told him about, particularly the portion of the backwards sign with the letters
O
and
N
. He also told her about the audio track from a nearby subway and reminded her of the helicopter, which was not on the printout.
    “You add it all up and I think we can get close,” he said. “If I can get close, I’ll find her.”
    “Well, I can tell you right now you are looking for the Canon sign.”
    “You mean Canon cameras? Where?”
    She pointed in the distance toward Kowloon. Bosch looked through the binoculars again.
    “I see it all the time when they fly me in and out over the harbor. There is a Canon sign on the Kowloon side. It’s just the word canon standing free on top of a building. It rotates. But if you were behind it in Kowloon when it rotated toward the harbor, you would see it backwards. Then in the reflection it would be corrected. That has to be it.”
    She tapped the
O-N
on the photo print.
    “Yeah, but where? I don’t see it anywhere.”
    “Let me see.”
    He handed her the binoculars. She spoke as she looked.
    “It’s normally lit up but they probably turn it off a couple hours before dawn to save energy. A lot of the signs are out right now.”
    She lowered the binoculars and looked at her watch.
    “We’ll be able to see it in about fifteen minutes.”
    Bosch took the binoculars back and started searching for the sign again.
    “I feel like I’m wasting time.”
    “Don’t worry. The sun’s coming up.”
    Thwarted in his efforts, Bosch reluctantly lowered the binoculars and for the next ten minutes watched the light creep over the mountains and into the basin.
    The dawn came up pink and gray. The harbor was already busy as workboats and ferries crisscrossed paths in what looked like some kind of natural choreography. Bosch saw a low-lying mist clinging to the towers in Central and Wan Chai and across the harbor in Kowloon. He smelled smoke.
    “It smells like L.A. after the riots,” he said. “Like the city’s on fire.”
    “It is in a way,” Eleanor said. “We’re halfway through Yue Laan.”
    “Yeah, what’s that?”
    “The Hungry Ghost festival. It began last week. It’s set to the Chinese calendar. It is said