Trunk Music - Michael Connelly [163]
The agents, after cruising by the location a few times to get the lay of the land, decided to use the Caddy as a blind, by popping the hood and sticking an agent in a greasy T-shirt under it and ostensibly working on the dead engine. They complemented this agent with a panel van parked right next to the Caddy. Four agents were in the van. At seven that morning they had taken it to the federal utilities shop and had a painter stencil La Fuentes Mexican Restaurant — Established 1983 on the side panels in red paint. The paint was still drying when they drove the van into the lot at eight.
Now at nine, the lot was slowly beginning to fill, mostly with employees of the stores and a few Silver State customers who needed to take care of business as soon as the bank opened its doors. Bosch watched all of this from the backseat of a federal car. Lindell and an agent named Baker were in the front seat. They were parked in the service bay of a gas station across Flamingo Road from the shopping center where the bank was located. Edgar and Rider were in another bureau car parked further up Flamingo. There were two other bureau cars in the area, one static and one roving. The plan was for Lindell to move his car into the bank parking lot once it became more crowded with cars and the bureau car would not stand out. This plan included a bureau helicopter making wide arcs around the shopping center.
“They’re opening up,” a voice from the car radio reported.
“Gotcha, La Fuentes,” Lindell said back.
The bureau cars were each equipped with a radio pedal and overhead mike on the windshield visor, meaning the driver of each car simply depressed the foot pedal and spoke, avoiding having to raise a microphone to his mouth and possibly being noticed and identified as law enforcement. Bosch had heard that the LAPD was finally getting such equipment, but the narcotics units and specialized surveillance teams were getting it first.
“Lindell,” he said, “you ever go to talk on the radio and slam on the brakes by mistake?”
“Not yet, Bosch. Why?”
“Just curious how all this fancy equipment works.”
“It’s only as good as the people who work it.”
Bosch yawned. He couldn’t remember the last time he had slept. They had driven through the night to get to Las Vegas and then spent the rest of the time planning for the bank surveillance.
“So what do you think, Bosch?” Lindell asked him. “Sooner or later?”
“This morning. They’ll want their money. They don’t want to wait.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
“You think it’s later?”
“If it was me, I’d do it later. That way if there were people out there watching and waiting — whether it’s the bureau or LAPD or Powers or whoever — they’d get cooked in the sun. Know what I mean?”
“Yeah. We sit out here all day and we aren’t going to be very sharp when the time comes.”
Bosch was quiet for a little while after that. From the backseat he studied Lindell. He noticed that the agent had gotten a haircut. There was no sign of the spot where Bosch had hacked off his ponytail.
“You think you’re going to miss it?” Bosch asked.
“Miss what?”
“Being under. The life, I mean.”
“No, it was getting old. I’ll be happy to go straight.”
“Not even the girls?”
Bosch saw Lindell’s eyes take a quick swipe at Baker and then look at Bosch in the rearview mirror. That told Bosch to let that subject go.
“Whaddaya think about the lot now, Don?” Lindell said, changing the subject.
Baker scanned the lot. It was slowly filling up. There was a bagel shop on the far end from the bank, and that was responsible for most of the autos at the moment.
“I think we can take it in, park it by the bagel place,” Baker said. “There’s enough cover now.”
“Okay, then,” Lindell said. He tilted his head slightly so that he was projecting