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By Root 420 0

his arms and neck. He turned in the bow pulpit and looked forward and across the bay to where he knew overtown lay hidden beneath the marine layer. Not being able to see what he knew to be there gave him an ominous feeling and he looked down. The water the bow cut through was flat and as blue-black as a marlin’s skin. McCaleb knew he needed to get up into the bridge to help Buddy. One of them would drive while the other kept an eye on the radar screen to chart a safe course to Los Angeles Harbor. Too bad, he thought, that there would be no radar for him to use once he was on land again and trying to chart his way through the case that now gripped him. A mist of a different kind awaited him there. And these thoughts of trying to see his way through turned his mind to the thing about the case that had hooked him so deeply.

Beware Beware God Sees

The words turned in his head like a newfound mantra. There was someone in the cloaking mist ahead who had written those words. Someone who had acted on them in an extreme capacity at least once and who would likely act on them again. McCaleb was going to find that person. And in doing so, he wondered, whose words would he be acting on? Was there a true God sending him on this journey?

He felt a touch on his shoulder and startled and turned, nearly dropping the gaff pole overboard. It was Buddy.

“Jesus, man, don’t do that!”

“You all right?”

“I was till you scared the hell out of me. What are you doing? You should be driving.”

McCaleb glanced over his shoulder to make sure they were clear of the harbor markers and into the open bay.

“I don’t know,” Buddy said. “You looked like Ahab standing out here with that gaff. I thought something was wrong. What are you doing?”

“I was thinking. Do you mind? Don’t sneak up on me like that, man.”

“Well, I guess that makes us even then.”

“Just go drive the boat, Buddy. I’ll be up in a minute. And check the generator — might as well juice the batteries.”

As Buddy moved away McCaleb felt his heart even out again. He stepped off the pulpit and snapped the gaff back into its clamps on the deck. As he was bent over he felt the boat rise and fall as it went over a three- or four-foot roller. He straightened up and looked around for the origin of the wake. But he saw nothing. It had been a phantom moving across the flat surface of the bay.

6

Harry Bosch raised his briefcase like a shield and used it to push his way through the crowd of reporters and cameras gathered outside the doors of the courtroom.

“Let me through, please, let me through.”

Most of them didn’t move until he used the briefcase to lever them out of the way. They were desperately crowding in and reaching tape recorders and cameras toward the center of the human knot where the defense lawyer was holding court.

Bosch finally made it to the door, where a sheriff’s deputy was pressed against the handle. He recognized Bosch and stepped sideways so he could open the door.

“You know,” Bosch said to the deputy, “this is going to happen every day. This guy has more to say outside court than inside. You might want to think about setting up some rules so people can get in and out.”

As Bosch went through the door, he heard the deputy tell him to talk to the judge about it.

Bosch walked down the center aisle and then through the gate to the prosecution table. He was the first to arrive. He pulled the third chair out and sat down. He opened his briefcase on the table, took out the heavy blue binder and put it to the side. He then closed and snapped the briefcase locks and put it down on the floor next to his chair.

Bosch was ready. He leaned forward and folded his arms on top of the binder. The courtroom was still, almost empty except for the judge’s clerk and a court reporter who were getting ready for the day. Bosch liked these times. The quiet before the storm. And he knew without a doubt that a storm was surely coming. He nodded to himself. He was ready, ready to dance with the devil once more. He realized that his mission in life was all about moments like these. Moments