The Overlook

cubicles-the squad room-and three private rooms that had been built free-standing in the open floor plan. There were large racks of electronic equipment between the cubicles, and every desk had two computer screens on it. It looked like the whole place could be packed up and moved at a moment’s notice.
    Bosch stepped farther in, and through the window in one of the private offices he saw a man sitting in a chair, his head back and eyes open. He looked like he was wearing a red bib. But Bosch knew it was blood. The man had been shot in the chest.
    He pointed and Rachel saw the dead man. She reacted with a quick intake of breath and a low-volume sigh.
    The door to the office was ajar. They moved toward it and Bosch pushed it open while Walling covered them from behind. Bosch stepped in and saw Alicia Kent sitting on the floor, her back to the wall.
    He crouched beside her. Her eyes were open but dead. A gun was on the floor between her feet and the wall behind her was spattered with blood and brain matter.
    Bosch turned and surveyed the room. He understood the play. It was set up so it would look like Alicia Kent had grabbed the agent’s gun from his holster, shot him and then sat down on the floor and took her own life. No note or explanation, but it was the best Maxwell could come up with in the short amount of time and opportunity that he had.
    Bosch turned to Walling. She had let her guard down and was just standing there looking at the dead agent.
    “Rachel,” he said. “He’s gotta still be here.”
    He stood and moved toward the door so he could search the squad room. As he glanced through the window he saw movement behind the electronics racks. He stopped, raised his weapon and tracked someone moving behind one of the racks toward a door with an exit sign on it.
    In a moment he saw Maxwell break free of the cover and dash toward the door.
    “Maxwell!” Bosch yelled. “Stop!”
    Maxwell spun and raised a weapon. At the same moment that his back hit the exit door he started firing. The window shattered and glass sprayed across Bosch. He returned fire and put six shots into the opening of the exit door but Maxwell was gone.
    “Rachel?” he called without taking his eyes off the door. “Okay?”
    “I’m fine.”
    Her voice came from below him. He knew she had hit the floor when the shooting had started.
    “Which exit is that door?”
    Rachel stood up. Bosch moved toward the door, glancing at her, and saw glass all over her clothes and that she had been cut on the cheek.
    “Those stairs go down to his car.”
    Bosch ran from the room toward the exit door. He opened his phone as he went and pushed the speed dial for his partner. The call was answered on half a ring. Bosch was already in the stairwell.
    “He’s coming down!”
    Bosch dropped the phone and started down the stairs. He could hear Maxwell running on the steel steps below and instinctively knew that he was too far ahead.

TWENTY-TWO
    BOSCH COVERED THREE MORE LANDINGS, taking three steps at a time. He could now hear Walling coming down behind him. He then heard the booming sound from below as Maxwell hit the exit door at the bottom. There were immediate shouts and then there were shots. They came so close together it was impossible to determine which had come first or how many shots had been fired.
    Ten seconds later Bosch hit the exit door. He came out onto the sidewalk and saw Ferras leaning against the back bumper of Maxwell’s fed car. He was holding his weapon with one hand and his elbow with the other. A red rose of blood was blooming on his shoulder. Traffic had stopped in both directions on Third and pedestrians were running down the sidewalks to safety.
    “I hit him twice,” Ferras yelled. “He went that way.”
    He nodded in the direction of the Third Street tunnel under Bunker Hill. Bosch stepped closer to his partner and saw the wound in the ball of his shoulder. It didn’t look too bad.
    “Did you call for backup?” Bosch asked.
    “On the way.”
    Ferras grimaced as he adjusted his hold on his injured arm.
    “You did real good, Iggy. Hang in there while I go get this guy.”
    Ferras nodded. Bosch turned and saw Rachel come through the door, a smear of blood on her face.
    “This way,” he said. “He’s hit.”
    They started down Third in a spread formation. After a few steps Bosch picked up the trail. Maxwell was obviously hurt badly and was losing a lot of blood. It would make him easy to track.
    But when they