Echo Park

for this, Rachel.”
    “You have a better idea?”
    “I
had
a better idea. A federal search warrant, remember?”
    “That was a nonstarter, Bosch. I told you, I open that door and you get trampled. This is better. In and out. If I get you the file, I get you the file. Doesn’t matter how.”
    She was two paces in front of him now, moving with federal momentum. Bosch secretly started to believe. She moved through the double doors beneath the sign that said RECORDS with an authority and command presence that could not be questioned.
    The clerk Bosch had dealt with was at the counter speaking with another citizen. Walling stepped right up and didn’t wait for an invitation to speak. She drew her credentials from her suit jacket pocket in one smooth move.
    “ FBI . I need to see your office manager in regard to a matter of urgency.”
    The clerk looked at her with an unimpressed face.
    “I will be with you as soon as I fin—”
    “You’re with me now, honey. Go get your boss or I’ll go get him. This is life-or-death urgent.”
    The woman made a face that seemed to indicate she had never encountered such rudeness before. Without a word to the citizen in front of her or anyone else she stepped away from the counter and walked to a door behind a row of cubicles.
    They waited less than a minute. The clerk stepped back out through the door, followed by a man wearing a white, short-sleeved shirt and a maroon tie. He came directly to Rachel Walling.
    “I’m Mr. Osborne. How can I help you?”
    “We need to step into your office, sir. This is a highly confidential matter.”
    “Over this way, please.”
    He pointed to a swing door at the far end of the counter. Bosch and Walling walked down to it and its lock was buzzed open. They followed Osborne back through the rear door to his office. Rachel let him get a look at her credentials once he was seated behind a desk festooned with dusty Dodgers memorabilia. There was a wrapped sandwich from Subway front and center on his desk.
    “What’s this all—”
    “Mr. Osborne, I work for the Tactical Intelligence Unit here in Los Angeles. I’m sure you understand what that means. And this is Detective Harry Bosch of the LAPD . We’re working a joint investigation of high importance and urgency. We’ve learned from your clerk that there exists a file pertaining to an individual named Robert Foxworth, date of birth eleven/three/’seventy-one. It is vitally important that we be allowed to review that file immediately.”
    Osborne nodded, but what he said didn’t go with a nod.
    “I understand. But here at DCFS we work under very precise laws. State laws that protect the children. The records of our juvenile wards are not open to the public without court order. My hands are—”
    “Sir, Robert Foxworth is no longer a juvenile. He is thirty-four years old. The file might contain information that will lead us to the containment of a very grave threat to this city. It will undoubtedly save lives.”
    “I know, but you have to understand that we are not—”
    “I do understand. I understand perfectly that if we don’t see that file now, we could be talking about a loss of human life. You don’t want that on your conscience, Mr. Osborne, and neither do we. That’s why we are on the same team. I’ll make a deal with you, sir. We will review the file right here in your office with you watching. In the meantime, I will get on the phone and instruct a member of my team at Tactical to draw up a search warrant. I will see to it that it is signed by a judge and furnished to you before the end of business today.”
    “Well . . . I’d have to call it up from Archives.”
    “Are the archives here in the building?”
    “Yes, down below.”
    “Then, please call Archives and get that file up here. We don’t have a lot of time, sir.”
    “Just wait here. I will handle it personally.”
    “Thank you, Mr. Osborne.”
    The man left the office and Walling and Bosch sat down in chairs in front of his desk. Rachel smiled.
    “Now let’s hope he doesn’t change his mind,” she said.
    “You’re good,” he responded. “I tell my daughter that she could talk a zebra out of its stripes. I think you could talk a tiger out of its.”
    “If I get this, you owe me another lunch at Water Grill.”
    “Fine. Just no sashimi.”
    They waited for Osborne’s return for nearly fifteen minutes. When he came back to the office he was carrying a file folder that was nearly an inch