The Black Ice (hb-2)

box near the pope’s.”
    “I don’t know. These are expensive. Sometimes they cannot sell them. Even so, they keep them locked…”
    “How much?”
    “You would need at least two hundred dollars American, I’m afraid. It is very expensive.”
    Bosch took out his wallet and counted out $210. He left a ten on the table for the breakfast and pushed the rest across the faded green tablecloth to Aguila. It occurred to him it was more money than Aguila made in a six-day week on the job. He wished he had not been so quick to make a decision that would have taken Aguila hours of careful consideration.
    “Get us a box near the pope.”
    “You must understand, there will be many men with him. He will be-”
    “I just want a look at him, is all. Just get us the box.”
    They left the restaurant then and Aguila said he would walk to the Justice Plaza, a couple blocks away. After he left, Harry stood in front of the restaurant waiting for Ramos. He looked at his watch and saw it was eight o’clock. He was supposed to be in Irving’s office at Parker Center. He wondered if the assistant chief had initiated disciplinary action against him yet. Bosch would probably be put on a desk as soon as he got back into town.
    Unless… unless he brought back the whole package in his back pocket. That was the only way he would have any leverage with Irving. He knew he had to come out of Mexico with everything tied together.
    It dawned on him that it was stupid to be standing like a target on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant. He stepped back inside and watched for Ramos through the front door. The waitress approached him and bowed effusively several times and walked away. It must’ve been the three-dollar tip, he thought.
    It took Ramos nearly an hour to get there. Bosch decided he didn’t want to be without a car so he told the agent he would follow him. They drove north on Lopez Mateos. At the circle around the statue of Juarez they went east, into a neighborhood of unmarked warehouses. They went down an alley and parked behind a building that had been tagged dozens of times with graffiti. Ramos looked furtively around after he got out of the beat-up Chevy Camaro with Mexican plates he was driving.
    “Welcome to our humble federal office,” he said.
    Inside, it was Sunday morning quiet. No one else was there. Ramos put on the overhead lights and Bosch saw several rows of desks and file cabinets. Toward the back were two weapons storage lockers and a two-ton Cincinnati safe for storing evidence.
    “Okay, let me see what we got while you tell me about last night. You are sure somebody tried to do you, right?”
    “Only way to be surer was if I got hit.”
    The Band– Aid Bosch had used on his neck was covered by his collar. There was another on his right palm, which also was not very noticeable.
    Bosch told Ramos about the hotel shooting, leaving out no detail, including that he had recovered a shell from room 504.
    “What about the slug? Recoverable?”
    “I assume it’s still in the headboard. I didn’t hang around long enough to check.”
    “No, I bet you went running to warn your pal, the Mexican. Bosch, I am telling you to wise up. He may be a good guy but you don’t know him. He mighta been the one that set the whole thing up.”
    “Actually, Ramos, I did warn him. But then I left and did what you wanted me to do.”
    “What’re you talking about?”
    “EnviroBreed. I went in last night.”
    “What? Are you crazy, Bosch? I didn’t tell you to-”
    “C’mon, man, don’t fuck with me. You told me all that shit last night so I would know what was needed to get the search okayed. Don’t bullshit me. We’re alone here. I know that’s what you wanted and I got it. Put me down as a CI.”
    Ramos was pacing in front of the file cabinets. He was making a good show of it.
    “Look, Bosch, I have to clear any confidential informant I use with my supe. So that’s not going to fly. I can’t-”
    “Make it fly.”
    “Bosch, I-”
    “Do you want to know what I found there or should we just drop it?”
    That quieted the DEA agent for a few moments.
    “Do you have your ninjas, the-what did you call them, the clits, in town yet?
    “CLETs, Bosch. And, yeah, they came in last night.”
    “Good. You’re going to have to get going. I was seen.”
    Bosch watched the agent’s face grow dark. He shook his head and dropped down into a chair.
    “Fuck! How do you know?”
    “There was a camera. I didn’t see