The Overlook

front walkway. He knew that whoever was assigned to watch the house would be the lowest man on the Tactical Intelligence totem pole, a screwup or an agent with baggage. He knew he could use this to his advantage.
    “LAPD Homicide Special,” he said. “We’re just going to finish up in here.”
    “No, you’re not,” the agent said. “The bureau has taken over jurisdiction of this investigation and will be handling everything from here on out.”
    “Sorry, man, I didn’t get the memo,” Bosch said. “If you’ll excuse us.”
    He turned back to the door.
    “Do not open that door,” the agent said again. “This is a national security investigation now. You can check with your superiors.”
    Bosch shook his head.
    “You may have superiors. I have supervisors.”
    “Whatever. You’re not going into that house.”
    “Harry,” Ferras said. “Maybe we-”
    Bosch waved a hand and cut him off. He turned back to the agent.
    “Let me see some ID,” he said.
    The agent put an exasperated look on his face and dug out his creds. He flipped them open and held them out. Bosch was ready. He grabbed the agent by the wrist and pivoted. The agent’s body came forward and past him and Bosch used a forearm to press him face first against the door. He pulled his hand-still clutching his credentials-behind his back.
    The agent started struggling and protesting but it was too late. Bosch leaned his shoulder into him to keep him against the door and slipped his free hand under the man’s jacket. He found and jerked the handcuffs off the agent’s belt and started cuffing him up.
    “Harry, what are you doing?” Ferras yelled.
    “I told you. Nobody’s pushing us aside.”
    Once he had the agent’s hands cuffed behind him he grabbed the credentials out of his hand. He opened them and checked the name. Clifford Maxwell. Bosch turned him around and shoved the creds into the side pocket of his jacket.
    “Your career is over,” Maxwell said calmly.
    “Tell me about it,” Bosch said.
    Maxwell looked at Ferras.
    “You go along with this and you’re in the toilet, too,” he said. “You better think about it.”
    “Shut up, Cliff,” Bosch said. “The only one who is going to be in the toilet is you when you go back to Tactical and tell them how you let two of the local yokels get the drop on you.”
    That shut him up. Bosch opened the front door and walked the agent in. He roughly pushed him down into a stuffed chair in the living room.
    “Have a seat,” he said. “And shut the fuck up.”
    He reached down and opened up Maxwell’s jacket so he could see where he carried his weapon. His gun was in a pancake holster under his left arm. He would not be able to reach it with his wrists cuffed behind his back. Bosch frisked the agent’s lower legs to make sure he wasn’t carrying a throw-down. Satisfied, he stepped back.
    “Relax now,” he said. “We won’t be long.”
    Bosch started down the hallway, signaling his partner to follow him.
    “You start in the office and I’ll start in the bedroom,” he instructed. “We’re looking for anything and everything. We’ll know it when we see it. Check the computer. Anything unusual, I want to know about it.”
    “Harry.”
    Bosch stopped in the hallway and looked at Ferras. He could tell that his young partner was running scared. He let him have his say even though they were still within earshot of Maxwell.
    “We shouldn’t be doing it this way,” Ferras said.
    “How should we be doing it, Ignacio? Do you mean we should be going through channels? Have our boss talk to his boss, grab a latte and wait for permission to do our job?”
    Ferras pointed down the hallway toward the living room.
    “I understand the need for speed,” he said. “But do you think he’s going to let this go? He’s going to have our badges, Harry, and I don’t mind going down in the line of duty, but not for what we just did.”
    Bosch admired Ferras for saying
we
and that gave him the patience to calmly step back and put a hand on his partner’s shoulder. He lowered his voice so Maxwell would not hear him from the living room.
    “Listen to me, Ignacio, not one thing is going to happen to you because of this. Not one thing, okay? I’ve been around a little longer than you and I know how the bureau works. Hell, my ex-wife is ex-bureau, okay? And the one thing I know better than anything is that the number-one FBI priority is not to be embarrassed. That is a philosophy they