Echo Park

the top of Beachwood together.”
    “I don’t want you talking to my son,” T. Rex Garland said. “You don’t talk to my son. You’re bought and paid for, Detective, you get that? This is the only time you will ever call a meeting with me. I call you. You don’t call me.”
    The old man never looked at Pratt as he spoke. His eyes were cast toward the lake. The message was clear. Pratt wasn’t worth his attention.
    “Yeah, all that was fine, but things have changed,” Pratt said. “In case you haven’t been reading the papers or watching the news, things have gone to shit out there.”
    The old man remained seated but stretched his arms forward and put both palms on the polished gold dragon’s head at the top of his cane. He spoke calmly.
    “And whose fault is that? You told us you and the lawyer could keep Raynard Waits in line. You told us no one would get hurt. You called it a clean operation. Now look at what you’ve involved us in.”
    Pratt took a few moments to respond.
    “You involved yourself. You wanted something and I was the provider. No matter whose fault it is, the bottom line is I now need more money.”
    T. Rex Garland shook his head slowly.
    “You were paid one million dollars,” he said.
    “I had to cut it up with Maury Swann,” Pratt responded.
    “Your subcontractor costs were not and are not my concern.”
    “The fee was based on everything working smoothly. Waits taking the fall for Gesto, case closed. Now there are complications, ongoing investigations to contend with.”
    “Again, not my concern. Our deal is done.”
    Pratt leaned forward on the bench and put his elbows on his knees.
    “It’s not quite done yet, T. Rex,” he said. “And maybe you
should
be concerned. Because you know who paid me a visit on Friday night? Harry Bosch, and he had an FBI agent with him. They took me to a little meeting with Mr. Rick O’Shea. Turns out that before Bosch capped Waits the little bastard told him that he didn’t kill Marie Gesto. So that puts Bosch back on your ass, Junior. And it puts all of them on mine. They’ve damn near worked the whole story out—connecting me and Maury Swann. They just need somebody to fill in the blanks and, since they can’t get to Swann, they want that somebody to be me. They’re starting to apply the pressure.”
    Anthony Garland groaned and kicked at the ground with his expensive loafers.
    “Goddamn it! I knew this whole thing would—”
    His father put a hand up for quiet.
    “Bosch and the FBI don’t matter,” the old man said. “It’s all about what O’Shea will do, and O’Shea is taken care of. He’s bought and paid for. Only he doesn’t know it yet. Once I apprise him of his situation, he will do what I tell him to do. If he wants to be district attorney.”
    Pratt shook his head.
    “Bosch isn’t going to let go of this. He hasn’t for thirteen years. He’s not going to now.”
    “Then, you take care of it. That’s your end of the deal. I took care of O’Shea. You take care of Bosch. Let’s go, son.”
    The old man started to get up, using the cane to push up on. His son stepped over to help him.
    “Wait a minute,” Pratt said. “You aren’t going anywhere. I said I want more money and I’m serious. I’ll take care of Bosch, but then I need to check out and disappear. I need more money to do that.”
    Anthony Garland angrily pointed down at Pratt on the bench.
    “You goddamn piece of shit,” he said. “You were the one who came to us. This whole goddamn thing is your plan from start to finish. You go out there and get two people killed, and then you have the balls to come back to us for more money?”
    Pratt shrugged and spread his hands.
    “I’m looking at a choice here, same as you. I could sit tight with the way things are and see how close they come to me. Or I could disappear right now. The thing you should know is that they always make deals with the little fish to get to the bigger fish. I’m a little fish, Anthony. The big fish? That would be you.”
    He turned to look at the old man.
    “And the biggest fish? That would be you.”
    T. Rex Garland nodded. He was a pragmatic businessman. He seemed to now understand the gravity of the situation.
    “How much?” he asked. “How much to disappear?”
    Pratt didn’t hesitate.
    “I want another million dollars and it will be well worth it to you to give it to me. They can’t get to either of you without me. If I’m gone, the case is gone. So it’s a