14
From behind the wheel of his own car, Bosch watched Chang as he performed menial chores at Tsing Motors in Monterey Park. The car lot had formerly been a 1950s-style gas station with two garage bays and an attached office. Bosch was parked a half block away on busy Garvey Avenue and was in no danger of being made. Chu was in his own car half a block past the car lot in the other direction. Using their personal cars for the surveillance was a violation of departmental policy but Bosch had checked with the motor pool and there were no undercover vehicles available. The choice was to use their unmarked detective cruisers, which might as well have been painted black and white for all the camouflage they offered, or to break policy. Bosch didn’t mind breaking policy because he had a six-CD stack in his car. Today he had it loaded with music from his latest discovery. Tomasz Stan´ko was a Polish trumpeter who sounded like the ghost of Miles Davis. His horn was sharp and soulful. It was good surveillance music. It kept Bosch alert.
For almost three hours they had watched their suspect handle his mundane duties on the lot. He had washed cars, greased tires to make them look new, even taken the one prospective customer on a test drive of a 1989 Mustang. And for the past half hour he had been systematically moving each of the three dozen cars on the lot to new positions in an effort to make it appear that the inventory was changing, that there was sales activity and that business was good.
At 4 P.M. “Soul of Things” came out of the stack and Bosch couldn’t help but think that even Miles would grudgingly give Stan´ko his due. Harry was following the groove with his fingers on the steering wheel when he saw Chang go into the small office and change his shirt. When he stepped out he was finished for the day. He got into the Mustang and drove by himself off the lot.
Bosch’s phone immediately buzzed with a call from Chu. Harry killed the music.
“You got him?” Chu asked. “He’s moving.”
“Yeah, I see.”
“Heading up to the ten. You think he’s done for the day?”
“He changed his shirt. I think he’s done. I’ll take the lead and then you be ready to move up.”
Bosch followed five car lengths behind and then caught up as Chang headed west on the 10 toward downtown. He was not going home. Bosch and Chu had followed him the night before to an apartment in Monterey Park-also owned by Vincent Tsing-and had watched the place for an hour after the lights had gone out and they felt comfortable with the belief that he was in for the night.
Now he was heading into L.A. and Bosch’s instincts told him he was carrying out triad business. He sped up and passed by the Mustang, holding his cell phone up to his ear so Chang wouldn’t get a look at his face. He called Chu and told him he was now on point.
Bosch and Chu continued to trade off the point while Chang connected to the 101 Freeway and headed north through Hollywood toward the Valley. Traffic bogged down in the rush-hour crunch and following the suspect was easy. It took Chang nearly an hour to get up to Sherman Oaks, where he finally exited on the Sepulveda Boulevard ramp. Bosch called Chu.
“I think he’s going to the other store,” he told his surveillance partner.
“I think you’re right. Should we call Robert Li and warn him?”
Bosch paused. It was a good question. He had to decide whether Robert Li was in danger. If so, he should be warned. But if he was not in danger, a warning could blow the whole operation.
“No, not yet. Let’s see what happens. If Chang goes into the store, we go in with him. And we’ll step in if things go wrong.”
“You sure, Harry?”
“No, but that’s how we’ll play it. Make sure you make the light.”
They held the connection. The light at the bottom of the ramp had just turned green. Bosch was four cars behind Chang but Chu was at least eight.
Traffic moved slowly and Bosch crept along, watching the light. It turned yellow just as he hit the intersection. He made it but Chu wouldn’t.
“Okay, I got him,” he said into the phone. “No worries.”
“Good. I’ll be there in three minutes.”
Bosch closed the phone. Just then he heard a siren from directly behind him and saw flashing blues in the rearview.
“Shit!”
He looked ahead and saw Chang proceeding south on Sepulveda. He was four blocks from Fortune Fine Foods & Liquor. Bosch quickly pulled to the curb and hit the brake. He opened his door and jumped out. He was holding his badge up as he approached the officer on the motorcycle who had pulled him over.
“I’m on a surveillance! I can’t stop!”
“Talking on a cell phone is illegal.”
“Then write it up and send it to the chief. I’m not blowing a surveillance for this.”
He turned around and went back to his car. He bulled his way back into the traffic and looked ahead for Chang’s Mustang. It was gone. The next traffic signal turned red and he was stopped again. He banged the heel of his hand off the steering wheel and started wondering if he should call Robert Li.
His phone buzzed. It was Chu.
“I’m making the turn. Where are you?”
“I’m only a block ahead of you. I got pulled over by a motor cop for talking on a cell phone.”
“That’s just great! Where’s Chang?”
“Somewhere up ahead. I’m moving now.”
Traffic was slowly moving through the intersection. Bosch wasn’t panicked because the road was so glutted with vehicles that he knew Chang could not have gotten too far ahead. He stayed in his lane, knowing that he might draw attention in Chang’s mirrors if he started jockeying between lanes and cars to move up.
In another two minutes he got to the major intersection of Sepulveda and Ventura Boulevard. He could see the lights of Fortune Fine Foods & Liquor a block further down Sepulveda at the next intersection. He did not see Chang’s Mustang anywhere in front of him. He buzzed Chu.
“I’m at the light at Ventura and don’t see him. He might already be there.”
“I’m one light back. What do we do?”
“I’m going to park and go in. You stay out and look for his car. Buzz me when you see either him or the car.”
“You’re going right to Li?”
“We’ll see.”
As soon as the light turned green Bosch pinned the accelerator and jumped into the intersection, nearly broadsiding a red-light runner. He cruised up the next block and took a right into the market’s parking lot. He didn’t see Chang’s car or any open parking spaces other than the one clearly marked for handicapped motorists. Bosch pulled through the lot into the alley and parked behind a trash bin with a no parking sticker on it. He jumped out and trotted back through the parking lot to the market’s front door.
Just as Bosch was going through the automatic door marked ENTER, he saw Chang coming out the door marked exit. Bosch raised his hand and brushed it through his hair, blocking his face with his arm. He kept going and pulled his phone out of his pocket.
He walked between the two checkout counters. Two women, different from the ones the day before, stood at the cash registers waiting for customers.
“Where’s Mr. Li?” Bosch asked without stopping.
“In the back,” said one woman.
“His office,” said the other.
Bosch called Chu as he was walking quickly down the main aisle to the back of the store.
“He just walked out the front door. Stay with him. I’ll check on Li.”
“Got it.”
Bosch disconnected and pocketed the phone. He followed the same route to Li’s office as he had the day before. When he got there, the office door was closed. He felt adrenaline burst inside him as he reached for the knob.
Bosch pushed the door open without knocking and found Li and another Asian man sitting at the two desks. They were in a conversation that abruptly stopped when the door came open. Li jumped up and Bosch saw immediately that he was physically unharmed.