The Black Box

long.
    “Rachel?”
    There was a pause.
    “Hello, Harry. How are you?”
    “I’m doing fine. How are you?”
    “I can’t complain. Is this a new number for you?”
    “No, I’m just borrowing a desk. How’s Jack?”
    He quickly tried to move past the fact that he had used a phone other than his own because he thought she might not answer if his name came up on her caller ID. He and FBI agent Rachel Walling had a long history, not all of it good.
    “Jack is Jack. He’s good. But I doubt you called on a phone other than your own to ask me about Jack.”
    Bosch nodded even though she couldn’t see this.
    “Right, well, as you probably know, I need a favor.”
    “What kind of favor?”
    “I have this case. This woman from Denmark named Anneke. She was amazingly courageous. She was a war correspondent and she went into some of the—”
    “Harry, you don’t have to sell me your victim, as if that will make me want to do you this favor, whatever it is. Just tell me what you want.”
    He nodded again. Rachel Walling could always make him nervous. They had been lovers once, but the emotional connectiondidn’t end well. It was a long time ago, but whenever he talked to her, he still felt pangs of what could have been.
    “Okay, okay, here it is. I have a partial serial number off a Beretta model ninety-two used to kill this woman twenty years ago during the riots. We just recovered the weapon and got the partial. We’re missing only one number, so that means there are ten possibles. We ran all ten through the California DOJ box and got nothing. I need somebody in—”
    “ATF. That’s their jurisdiction.”
    “I know that. But I don’t have anybody over there, and if I just go through straight protocol, I’ll get my answer back in two or three months and I can’t wait that long, Rachel.”
    “You haven’t changed. Always ‘Hurry-Up Harry.’ So you want to know if I have somebody at ATF I use to streamline things.”
    “Yes, that’s about it.”
    There was a long pause. Bosch didn’t know if something had distracted Rachel or if she was hesitating about helping him. He filled the space with one more lobbying effort.
    “I’d share full credit with them when we make the arrest. I figure they could use the mention. They already provided the initial lead on the case. Matched a shell from the scene to two other murders. This could look good for them for a change.”
    The ATF was mostly in the news these days for the agency’s sponsorship of an undercover operation that completely backfired and placed hundreds of guns into the hands of narco-terrorists. The outrage reached the point that the fiasco became fodder in the presidential campaign season.
    “I know what you mean,” Walling agreed. “Well, I have a friend over there. I could talk to her. I think the way I wouldwant to do it is for you to give me the serial number and for me to give it to her. Just giving you her cell number isn’t going to work.”
    “No problem,” Bosch said quickly. “Whatever works best. She can probably punch it in and get the transaction record in ten minutes.”
    “It’s not that easy. Access to these sorts of searches are monitored and assigned case numbers. She’ll still need to get supervisor approval to do this.”
    “Damn. Too bad they weren’t so tight with those guns they let cross the border last year.”
    “Very funny, Harry. I’ll tell her you said that.”
    “Uh, I think it might be better if you didn’t.”
    Walling then asked for the Beretta’s serial number and he read it out to her, noting that the eighth digit was missing. She said that either she would get back to him or her friend Agent Suzanne Wingo would contact him directly. She ended the call with a personal question.
    “So Harry, how long are you going to do this?”
    “Do what?” he asked, even though he had a good idea what she meant.
    “Do the badge-and-gun thing. I thought you’d be retired by now, voluntarily or not.”
    He smiled.
    “As long as they let me, Rachel. Which, according to my DROP contract, is about four more years.”
    “Well, hopefully we’ll cross paths again before your time is up.”
    “Yeah, I hope so.”
    “Take care.”
    “Thanks for doing this.”
    “Well, let me make sure it will get done before you start thanking me.”
    Bosch put the phone back in its cradle. As soon as he stood to go back to his own cubicle, his cell phone buzzed. The ID was blocked but he answered, just in case it was