The Black Echo

sign of the boy. Wish drove around the block and parked in the same spot in front of Barnie’s that they had been in before.
    “So, we wait,” she said. “For this kid you think might be a witness.”
    “Right. It’s what I think. But two of us don’t need to waste the time. You can leave me here if you want. I’ll go in the beanery, order a pitcher of Henry’s and a bowl of chili and watch from the window.”
    “That’s all right. I’m staying.”
    Bosch settled back for a wait. He took out his cigarettes but she nailed him before he got one out of the pack.
    “Have you heard of the draft risk assessment?” she asked.
    “The what?”
    “Secondhand cigarette smoke. It’s deadly, Bosch. The EPA came out last month, officially. Said it’s a carcinogen. Three thousand people are getting lung cancer a year from passive smoking, they call it. You are killing yourself and me. Please don’t.”
    He put the cigarettes back in his coat pocket. They were quiet as they watched the bike, which was chain-locked to the parking meter. Bosch took a few glances at the side-view mirror but didn’t see the IAD car. He glanced over at Wish, too, whenever he thought she wasn’t looking. Santa Monica Boulevard steadily got crowded with cars as the apex of rush hour approached. Wish kept her window closed to cut down on the carbon monoxide. It made the car very hot.
    “Why do you keep staring at me?” she asked about an hour into the surveillance.
    “At you? I didn’t know that I was.”
    “You were. You are. You ever have a female partner before?”
    “Nope. But that’s not why I would be staring. If I was.”
    “Why then? If you were.”
    “I’d be trying to figure you out. You know, why you are here, doing this. I always thought, I mean at least I heard, that the bank squad over at the FBI was for dinosaurs and fuckups, the agents too old or too dumb to use a computer or trace some white-collar scumbag’s assets through a paper trail. Then, here you are. On the heavy squad. You’re no dinosaur, and something tells me you’re no fuckup. Something tells me you’re a prize, Eleanor.”
    She was quiet a moment, and Bosch thought he saw the trace of a smile play on her lips. Then it was gone, if it had been there at all.
    “I guess that is a backhanded compliment,” she said. “If it is, thank you. I have my reasons for choosing where I am with the bureau. And believe me, I do get to choose. As far as the others in the squad, I would not characterize any of them as you do. I think that attitude, which, by the way, seems to be shared by many of your fellow-”
    “There’s Sharkey,” he said.
    A boy with blond dreadlocks had come through a side alley between the pancake shop and a mini-mall. An older man stood with him. He wore a T-shirt that said The Gay 90s Are Back! Bosch and Wish stayed in the car and watched. Sharkey and the man exchanged a few words and then Sharkey took something from his pocket and handed it over. The man shuffled through what looked like a stack of playing cards. He took a couple of cards and gave the rest back. He then gave Sharkey a single green bill.
    “What’s he doing?” Wish asked.
    “Buying baby pictures.”
    “What?”
    “A pedophile.”
    The older man headed off down the sidewalk and Sharkey walked to his motorbike. He hunched over the chain and lock.
    “Okay,” Bosch said, and they got out of the car.

    ***

    That would be enough for today, Sharkey thought. Time to kick. He lit a cigarette and bent over the seat of his motorbike to work the combination on the Master lock. His dreads flopped down past his eyes and he could smell some of the coconut stuff he had put in his hair the night before at the Jaguar guy’s house. That was after Arson had broken the guy’s nose and the blood got everywhere. He stood up and was about to wrap the chain around his waist when he saw them coming. Cops. They were too close. Too late to run. Trying to act like he hadn’t yet seen them, he quickly made a mental list of everything in his pockets. The credit cards were gone, already sold. The money could have come from anywhere, some of it did. He was cool. The only thing they’d have would be the queer guy’s identification if they had a lineup. Sharkey was surprised the guy had made a report. No one ever had before.
    Sharkey smiled at the two approaching cops, and the man held up a tape recorder. A tape recorder? What was this? The man hit the play button and after a few