Bosch pushed the barrel of his gun into Tafero’s back and reached his other hand around him to check for a weapon. He pulled a handgun out of Tafero’s belt and then stepped back. He looked at McCaleb again and knew he didn’t have any time. The problem was controlling Tafero and getting to McCaleb to cut him free. He suddenly knew what needed to be done. He stepped back and brought his hands together so that the guns were side by side. He raised them over his head and brought the butts of both guns down violently into the back of Tafero’s head. The big man pitched forward, going face-first into the wood-paneled wall and then dropping to the floor motionless.
Bosch turned and dropped both guns onto the bed and quickly pulled out his keys.
“Hold on, hold on, hold on.”
His fingers scrabbling, he pulled the blade out of the penknife attached to the key chain. He reached to the plastic cuff embedded around McCaleb’s neck but couldn’t get his fingers underneath it. He shoved McCaleb onto his side and quickly worked his fingers under the cuff at the front of his neck. He slipped the blade in and sliced through the cuff, the point of the knife just nicking the skin beneath it.
A horrible sound came from McCaleb’s throat as he gulped air into his lungs and tried to speak at the same time. The words were unintelligible, lost in the instinctive urgency for oxygen intake.
“Shut up and breathe!” Bosch yelled. “Just breathe!”
There came an interior rattling sound with each breath McCaleb took. Bosch saw a vibrant red line running the circumference of his neck. He gently touched McCaleb’s neck, wanting to feel for possible damage to the trachea or larynx or the arteries. McCaleb roughly turned his head on the mattress and tried to move away.
“Just… cut me loose.”
The words made him cough violently into the mattress, his whole body shaking from the trauma.
Bosch used the knife to cut his hands free and then his ankles. He saw red ligature marks on both sets of limbs. He pulled all the snap cuffs away and threw them on the floor. He looked around and saw the sweatpants and shirt on the floor. He picked them up and threw them onto the bed. McCaleb was slowly turning back to face him, his face still red.
“You… you… saved…”
“Don’t talk.”
There was a groan from the floor and Bosch saw Tafero start moving as he began to regain consciousness. Bosch stepped over and stood straddling him. He took his handcuffs off his belt, bent down and then violently pulled Tafero’s arms behind his back to cuff him. While he worked he talked to McCaleb.
“Hey, you want to take this guy out, tie him to the anchor and drop him over the side, it’d be fine by me. I wouldn’t even blink about it.”
McCaleb didn’t respond. He was pulling himself into a sitting position. Finished with the cuffing process, Bosch straightened up and looked down at Tafero, who had now opened his eyes.
“Stay still, shithead. And get used to those cuffs. You are under arrest for murder, attempted murder and general conspiracy to be an asshole. I think you know your rights but do yourself a favor and don’t say a word until I get the card out and read it to you.”
The moment he was done speaking Bosch became aware of a creaking sound coming from the hallway. In that second he realized someone had used his words as cover to get close to the doorway.
Things seemed to drop into a slow-motion sense of clarity. Bosch instinctively brought his left hand up to his hip but realized his gun was not there. He had left it on the bed. He started to turn to the bed but saw McCaleb sitting up, still naked, and already pointing one of the guns at the doorway.
Bosch’s eyes followed the aim of the gun to the door. A man was swinging into the opening in a crouched position, two hands on a pistol. He was taking aim at Bosch. There was a shot and wood splintered from the doorjamb. The gunman flinched and squinted his eyes. He recovered and started to level the aim of his gun. There was another shot and another and then another. The noise was deafening in the confines of the wood-paneled room. Bosch watched one bullet hit the wall and two hit the gunman in the chest, throwing him backward into the hallway wall. He sank to the floor but was still visible from the bedroom.
“No!” Tafero shouted from the floor. “Jesse, no!”
The wounded gunman was still moving but having difficulty with motor controls. With one hand he awkwardly raised the gun again and made a pathetic attempt to aim it once more at Bosch.
There was another shot and Bosch saw the gunman’s cheek explode with blood. His head snapped back against the wall behind him and he became still.
“No!” Tafero cried out again.
And then there was silence.
Bosch looked at the bed. McCaleb still held the gun aimed at the door. A cloud of blue gunpowder smoke was rising into the center of the room. The air smelled acrid and burned.
Bosch picked his gun up off the bed and went out to the hallway. He squatted down next to the gunman but didn’t need to touch him to know he was dead. During the shooting he had thought he recognized him as Tafero’s younger brother who worked in the bail bonds office. Now most of his face was gone.
Bosch got up and went into the head to grab a tissue, which he then used to take the gun out of the dead man’s grip. He carried it back into the master cabin and put it down on the night stand. The gun McCaleb had used was now lying on the bed. McCaleb stood on the other side of the bed. He had the sweatpants on and was pulling the shirt over his head. Once his head came through he looked at Bosch.
Their eyes held for a long moment. They had saved each other. Bosch finally nodded.
Tafero worked his way up into a sitting position against the wall. Blood had run out of his nose and down around both sides of his mouth. It looked like a grotesque Fu Manchu mustache. Bosch guessed that his nose had been broken when he’d gone face-first into the wall. He sat slumped against the wall, his eyes staring in horror through the doorway to the body in the hallway.
Bosch used the tissue to pick the gun up off the bed and put it next to the other one on the nightstand. He then took a cell phone out of his pocket and punched in a number. While he waited for the call to connect he looked at Tafero.
“You got your little brother killed, Rudy,” he said. “That’s too bad.”
Tafero lowered his eyes and started crying.
Bosch’s call was answered at central dispatch. He gave the address of the marina and said he was going to need a homicide team from the officer involved-shooting unit. He would need a coroner’s crew and techs from Scientific Investigation Division to respond as well. He told the dispatcher to make all notifications by landline. He didn’t want the media to get wind of the incident from a police scanner until the time was right.
He closed the phone and held it up for McCaleb to see.
“You want an ambulance? You should get checked out.”
“I’m fine.”
“Your neck looks like it could -”
“I said I’m fine.”
Bosch nodded.
“Suit yourself.”
He came around the bed and stood in front of Tafero.
“I’m going to get him out of here, put him in the car.”
He dragged Tafero to his feet and pushed him to the door. As he passed his brother’s body in the hallway Tafero let out a loud animal-like wail, a kind of sound Bosch was surprised to hear coming from such a big man.
“Yeah, it’s too bad,” Bosch said without a note of sympathy in his voice. “The kid had a bright future helping you kill people and getting people out of jail.”
He shoved Tafero toward the steps up to the salon. On the way up the gangway to the parking lot Bosch saw a man standing on the deck of a sailboat cluttered with rafts and surfboards and other junk. The man looked at Bosch and then Tafero and then back to Bosch. His eyes were wide and it was clear he recognized them, probably from the trial coverage on TV.