Lost Light

Aziz could not see it. I took out the photo of Angella that had been provided by her family. It showed her in a studio portrait taken at the time of her graduation from Ohio State, less than two years before her death. I looked up at Aziz.
    “My name is Harry Bosch. I am investigating the death of Angella Benton four years ago. Does she look familiar to you?”
    I slid the photo across the table and studied his face and eyes for any tell, any giveaway. His eyes moved over the photograph but I saw nothing in the way of a reaction. He said nothing.
    “Did you know her?”
    He didn’t answer.
    “She worked for a movie company that was robbed. You ended up with some of the money. How?”
    Nothing.
    “Where did the money come from?”
    He raised his eyes from the photo to mine. He said nothing.
    “Did these agents tell you not to talk to me?”
    Nothing.
    “Did they? Look, if you didn’t know her, then tell me.”
    Aziz dropped his sad eyes to the table again. He appeared to be looking at the photo again but I could tell he wasn’t. He was looking at something far away. I knew it was useless, just as I had probably known before sitting down.
    I got up and turned to Peoples.
    “You can keep the rest of the fifteen minutes.”
    He pushed off the wall and looked up at an overhead camera. He made the little swirling motion with a finger and the door’s electronic lock snapped open. Without thinking I moved toward the door and pushed it open. Almost immediately I heard a banshee cry from behind me and Aziz was up and over the table. He hit me in the upper back with all his weight-maybe 130 pounds tops-and I went through the door and into the hallway.
    Aziz was still on me and as I started to go down I felt his arms and legs flailing for purchase. He then jumped off and started running down the hall. Peoples and the other agent were quickly down the hall after him. As I got up I saw them corner Aziz at a dead end. Peoples held back while the other agent moved in and roughly wrestled the smaller man to the ground.
    Once Aziz was controlled Peoples turned and came back to me.
    “Bosch, are you all right?”
    “I’m fine.”
    I stood up and made a show of straightening my clothes. I was embarrassed. I had been taken by surprise by Aziz and I knew it would probably be the talk of the squad room at the other end of the hall.
    “I wasn’t ready for that. I guess being out of the life so long, I got rusty.”
    “Yes. You never can turn your back on them.”
    “My box. I forgot it.”
    I went back into the interview room and got the photo off the table and the box. Just as I came back out Aziz was being walked by, his wrists cuffed behind his back.
    I watched him go by and then Peoples and I followed at a safe distance.
    “And so,” Peoples said, “all of this was for naught.”
    “Probably.”
    “And it all could have been avoided if…”
    He didn’t finish so I did.
    “Your agent hadn’t committed those crimes on camera. Yeah.”
    Peoples stopped in the hallway and I did, too. He waited for the other agent and Aziz to go through the door.
    “I’m not comfortable with this arrangement,” he said. “I have no guarantees. You could walk out of here and get hit by a truck. Does that mean those recordings will end up on the news?”
    I thought for a moment, then nodded.
    “Yeah, it does. You better hope that truck misses me.”
    “I don’t want to live and work under the weight of that.”
    “I don’t blame you. What are you going to do about Milton?”
    “What I told you. He’s out. He just doesn’t know it yet.”
    “Well, let me know when that happens. Then we can talk about the weight again.”
    He looked like he was about to say something more but then thought better of it and started walking again. He led me through the security doors to the elevator. He used his card key to summon it and then to push the button for the lobby. He held his hand on the door’s bumper.
    “I’m not going down with you,” he said. “I think we’ve said enough.”
    I nodded and he stepped back through the door. He stood there and watched, maybe to make sure I didn’t sneak off the elevator and try to spring the incarcerated terrorists.
    Just as the door started closing I hit the bumper with the side of my hand and it slowly reopened.
    “Remember, Agent Peoples, my lawyer has taken steps to secure herself and the recordings. If something happens to her it’s the same as it happening to me.”
    “Don’t