The Drop - Michael Connelly [112]
In one smooth and swift move, Bosch pulled the Glock from his holster again and brought its aim down on Hardy.
“No!” Hardy yelled. “We have a deal!”
“We don’t have shit.”
Bosch pulled the trigger. The metal snap of the firing mechanism sounded and Hardy’s body jerked as if shot, but there was no bullet in the chamber. The gun was empty. Bosch had unloaded it up in the bedroom.
Bosch nodded. Hardy had missed the tell. No cop would’ve had to chamber a round, because no cop would’ve left the chamber empty. Not in L.A., where the two seconds it takes to chamber a round could cost you your life. That had been just part of the play. In case Bosch had had to string it out.
He reached down and rolled Hardy over. He put the gun down on his back and from his suit pocket took out two snap ties. He cinched one around Hardy’s ankles, binding them tightly together, and then used the other on his wrists so he could remove his handcuffs. Bosch had a feeling he would not be the one escorting Hardy to jail and he didn’t want to lose his cuffs.
Bosch stood up and hooked his cuffs back on his belt. He then reached back into his coat pocket and took out a handful of bullets. He ejected the empty magazine from his gun and started reloading it. When he was finished, he slid the magazine back into place and racked one bullet into the chamber before returning the weapon to its holster.
“Always keep one in the chamber,” he said to Hardy.
The door opened and Chu stepped back in, carrying his laptop. He looked at Hardy lying prone on the floor. He had no idea what Bosch’s play had been.
“Is he alive?”
“Yes. Watch him. Make sure he doesn’t do the kangaroo.”
Bosch walked down the hallway to the kitchen and found a set of keys on the counter where Hardy had said they would be. When he came back to the living room, he looked around, trying to figure out a way of securing Hardy while he and Chu conferred privately outside about how to proceed. An embarrassing story had gone around the PAB a few months earlier about a robbery suspect dubbed the Kangaroo. He had been bound at the ankles and wrists and left on the floor of a bank while the arresting officers looked for another suspect they believed was hiding in the building. Fifteen minutes later officers in another responding car saw a man hopping down the street, three blocks from the bank.
Finally, Bosch got an idea.
“Get the end of the couch,” he said.
“What are we doing?” Chu asked.
Bosch pointed him to the end.
“Tip it.”
They tipped the couch forward on its front legs and then down over Hardy. It tented him and made it almost impossible for him to try to stand up with his arms and legs bound.
“What is this?” Hardy protested. “What are you doing?”
“Just sit tight, Hardy,” Bosch replied. “We won’t leave you too long.”
Bosch signaled Chu toward the front door. As they were going out, Hardy called out.
“Be careful, Bosch!”
Bosch looked back at him.
“Of what?”
“Of what you’ll see. You won’t be the same after today.”
Bosch stood with his hand on the knob for a long moment. Only Hardy’s feet were visible, extending from under the overturned couch.
“We’ll see,” he said
He stepped out and closed the door.
36
It was like being at the end of a maze and having to work their way back to the starting point. They had the location they wanted to search—the town house next door, where Hardy claimed he kept his stash of keepsakes from his kills. They just had to figure out the chain of events and legal steps taking them to it that could be put in a search warrant and that would be accepted and approved by a superior court judge.
Bosch did not reveal to Chu what had occurred in Hardy’s living room while Chu was back at the car. Not only was there the trust issue that had exploded on the Irving case, but Bosch had no doubt coerced a confession from Hardy, and he would not share