The Black Ice (hb-2)

you? Zorrillo. Or somebody has.”
    “You got it. And that other little white squirrel you came down looking for. Dance.”
    “Where? When?”
    “We have a CI inside the fence who saw the both of them outside the main compound shooting at targets this morning. And then we-”
    “How close was he? The informant.”
    “Close enough. Not close enough to say ‘Howdy do, Mr. Pope’ but close enough to make the ID.”
    Ramos cackled loudly and got up to get another beer. He threw a bottle to Bosch, who wasn’t yet done with his first.
    “Where had he been?” Bosch asked.
    “Christ, who knows? Only thing I care about is that he is back and he is going to be there when the CLETs come through the door. And by the way, you better not bring that gun with you or the
federales
will hook you up, too. They are giving a special weapons privilege to the CLETs but that is it. The AG is going to sign it-God, I hope this guy never gets bought off or assassinated. Anyway, like I’m saying, if they want you to have a gun, they’ll give you something from their own armory.”
    “And how am I going to know when it goes down?”
    Ramos was still standing. He jerked his head back and poured down half the bottle of beer. His odor had totally filled the room. Bosch held his bottle up near his mouth and nose so he’d smell the beer instead of the DEA agent.
    “We’ll let you know,” Ramos said. “Take this and wait.”
    He tossed Bosch one of the pagers off his belt.
    “You put that on and I’ll give you a buzz when we are ready to rock. It will be soon. At least before New Year’s, I’m hoping. We gotta move on this. There is no telling how long the target is going to stay in place this time.”
    He finished the beer and put the bottle on the table. He didn’t pick up another. The meeting was done.
    “What about my partner?” Bosch asked.
    “Who, the Mex? Forget it. He’s state. You can’t tell him about this, Bosch. The pope has the SJP and the other locals wired. It’s a given. Don’t trust anybody over there, don’t tell anybody over there. Just wear the pager like I said and wait for the beep. Go to the bullfights. Hang by the pool or something. Hell, man, look at yourself. You could use the color.”
    “I know Aguila better than I know you.”
    “Did you know he works for a man who is a regular guest of Zorrillo’s at the bullfights each Sunday?”
    “No,” Bosch said. He thought of Grena.
    “Did you know that to become a detective in the SJP, the promotion is bought for an average of two thousand dollars, not based on any skill in investigative technique?”
    “No.”
    “I know you didn’t. But that’s the way it is here. You’ve got to understand that. Trust no one. You may be working with the last honest cop in Mexicali, but why bet your life on it?”
    Bosch nodded and said, “One more thing, I want to come in tomorrow and check your mug books. You have Zorrillo’s people?”
    “Most of them. What do you want?”
    “I’m looking for a guy with three tattooed tears. He’s Zorrillo’s hit man. He hit another cop yesterday in L.A.”
    “Jesus! Okay, in the morning, call me at this number. We’ll set it up. If you make an ID we’ll get the word to the AG. It’ll help us get the search approval.”
    He gave Bosch a card with a phone number on it, nothing else. Then he was gone. Harry put the chain back on the lock.

Chapter 24
    Bosch sat on the bed with his beer, thinking about the reappearance of Zorrillo. He wondered where he had been and why he had left the safety of his ranch in the first place. Harry poked at the idea that maybe Zorrillo had been in L.A. and that it had taken his presence there to lure Moore to the motel room where he was put down on the bathroom floor. Maybe Zorrillo was the only one Moore would have gone there for.
    The sharp sound of squealing brakes and crashing metal shot through the window. Before he even got up he heard voices arguing in the street below. The words grew harsher until they were threats being yelled so fast Bosch could not understand them. He went to the window and saw two men standing chests out beside two cars. One had rear-ended the other.
    As he turned away he detected a small flash of blue light to his left. Before he had time to look, the bottle in his hand shattered and beer and glass exploded in all directions. He instinctively took a step back and launched himself over the bed and down onto the floor. He braced himself for more shots