The Drop - Michael Connelly [129]
“Okay, I get it. So any idea where he would have gone? Does he have friends or family around?”
“No, he’s got nobody.”
“Okay, I’ll make some calls. Let me know if you hear anything.”
Bosch closed the phone and looked at Chu. An uneasy feeling was rising in his chest. He thought he might know where Pell was.
“Clayton Pell is in the wind. He apparently took off right after we talked to him yesterday.”
“He’s probably . . .”
But Chu didn’t finish because he didn’t have a good answer.
Bosch thought he did. He called the communications center and asked an operator to run the name Clayton Pell through the computer to see if he’d had any recent interaction with the justice system.
“Okay,” the operator said. “We have a Clayton Pell arrested yesterday on a two-forty-three felony class.”
Bosch didn’t need a translation on California Penal Code 243. Every cop knew it. Battery on a peace officer.
“What agency?” he asked.
“It was us. But I don’t have the details other than that he was taken into custody at the PAB.”
Bosch had been out of the PAB for most of Tuesday running down the final details for the prosecutor, but when he’d gotten back at the end of the day he’d heard some squad room chatter about a cop having been attacked in the plaza right out front. It was completely unprovoked. The cop suffered a broken nose when the attacker stopped him to ask a question and then inexplicably head-butted him in the face. But the attacker was dismissed in the banter as a crazy and his name was never mentioned.
Bosch now knew what had happened. Pell had made his way downtown and to the PAB with the purpose of getting arrested. This would ensure that he would be booked into the nearby Metropolitan Detention Center, where he knew Hardy was being held. Anyone arrested in downtown by the LAPD would be booked into the MDC, as opposed to any of the other city and county jails that served as regional booking locations.
Bosch disconnected the call, then went to the recent call list on his phone and picked the number of the MDC watch office. It was the number he had called earlier to check on Hardy’s schedule.
“What is it, Harry?” Chu asked.
“Trouble,” Bosch said.
His call was answered.
“Metro Detention, Sergeant Carlyle, can I put you on—”
“No, don’t put me on hold. This is Bosch, LAPD, we spoke a little while ago.”
“Bosch, we’re kind of busy at the moment. I need—”
“Listen, I think there is going to be an attempt on Chilton Hardy’s life. The guy I called about.”
“He’s already gone, Bosch.”
“What do you mean ‘gone’?”
“We put him on the sheriff’s bus. He’s headed to the courthouse for arraignment.”
“Who else is on the bus? Can you check a name? Clayton Pell. That’s Paul-Edward-Lincoln-Lincoln.”
“Hold on.”
Bosch looked at Chu and was about to update him when the watch sergeant came back on the line, unmistakable urgency in his voice.
“Pell is on the bus with Hardy. Who is this guy, and why weren’t we informed that these two had an issue?”
“We can talk about all of that later. Where’s the bus?”
“How would we know? It just left.”
“Do you know the route? Which way does it go?”
“Uh . . . I think it’s San Pedro to First and then up to Spring. The garage is on the south side of the courthouse.”
“Okay, get on the phone to the sheriff’s office, tell them what they’ve got and stop the bus. Keep Pell away from Hardy.”
“If it’s not too late.”
Bosch disconnected without reply. He turned and started back toward the PAB.
“Harry, what’s happening?” Chu called out as he followed.
“Pell and Hardy are on the jail bus. We have to stop it.”
Bosch pulled his badge off his belt and held it up as he stepped into the intersection of Spring and First. He raised his hands to stop traffic and moved diagonally across the intersection. Chu followed.
Once they were safely across, Bosch ran to a row of three black-and-whites