The Reversal

looking down at the 5 × 5 video screen contained in a front pack strapped to Wright’s chest. He was commanding the SIS takedown of Jason Jessup. On the screen was a murky image of the dimly lit storage facility under the pier. Bosch had been given ears but no mike. He could hear the operation’s communications but could not contribute to them. Anything he had to say would have to go through Wright.
    The voices over the com were hard to hear because of the background sound of waves crashing beneath the pier.
    “This is Five, we’re in.”
    “Steady the visual,” Wright commanded.
    The focus on the video tightened and Bosch could see that the camera was aimed at the individual storage rooms at the rear of the pier facility.
    “This one.”
    He pointed to the door he had seen Jessup go through.
    “Okay,” Wright said. “Our target is the second door from the right. Repeat, second door from the right. Move in and take positions.”
    The video moved in a herky-jerky fashion to a new position. Now the camera was even closer.
    “Three and Four are—”
    The rest was wiped out by the sound of a crashing wave.
    “Three and Four, say again,” Wright said.
    “Three, Four in position.”
    “Hold until my go. Topside, you ready?”
    “Topside ready.”
    On the upper level of the evacuated pier there was another team, which had placed small explosives at the corners of the trapdoor above the storage corral where they believed Jessup was holed up. On Wright’s command the SIS teams would blow the trapdoor and move in from above and below.
    Wright wrapped his hand around the mike that ran along his jawline and looked at Bosch.
    “You ready for this?”
    “Ready.”
    Wright released his grip and gave the command to his teams.
    “Okay, let’s give him a chance,” he said. “Three, you have the speaker up?”
    “That’s a go on the speaker. You’re hot in three, two… one.”
    Wright spoke, trying to convince a man hidden in a dark room a hundred yards away to give himself up.
    “Jason Jessup. This is Lieutenant Stephen Wright of the Los Angeles Police Department. Your position is surrounded top and bottom. Step out with your hands behind your head, fingers laced. Move forward to the waiting officers. If you deviate from this order you will be shot.”
    Bosch pulled his earplugs out and listened. He could hear the muffled sound of Wright’s words coming from under the pier. There was no doubt that Jessup could hear the order if he was under there.
    “You have one minute,” Wright said as his final communication to Jessup.
    The lieutenant checked his watch and they waited. At the thirty-second mark Wright checked with his men under the pier.
    “Anything?”
    “This is Three. I got nothing.”
    “Four, clear.”
    Wright gave Bosch a wishful look, like he had hoped it wouldn’t come to this.
    “Okay, on my mark we go. Keep tight and no crossfire. Topside, if you shoot, you make sure you know who you—”
    There was movement on the video screen. A door to one of the storage corrals flung open, but not the door they were focused on. The camera made a jerking motion left as it redirected its aim. Bosch saw Jessup emerge from the darkness behind the open door. His arms came up and together as he dropped into a combat pose.
    “Gun!” Wright yelled.
    The barrage of gunfire that followed lasted no more than ten seconds. But in that time at least four officers under the pier emptied their weapons. The crescendo was punctuated by the unneeded detonation from the topside. By then Bosch had already seen Jessup go down in the gunfire. Like a man in front of a firing squad, his body seemed at first to be held upright by the force of multiple impacts from multiple angles. Then gravity set in and he fell to the sand.
    After a few moments of silence, Wright was back on the com.
    “Everybody safe? Count off.”
    All officers under and on top of the pier reported in safe.
    “Check the suspect.”
    In the video Bosch saw two officers approach Jessup’s body. One checked for a pulse while the other held his aim on the dead man.
    “He’s ten-seven.”
    “Secure the weapon.”
    “Got it.”
    Wright killed the video and looked at Bosch.
    “And that’s that,” he said.
    “Yeah.”
    “I’m sorry you didn’t get your answers.”
    “Me, too.”
    They started walking up the beach to the pier. Wright checked his watch and went on the com, announcing the official time of the shooting as 7:18 P.M.
    Bosch looked