“The dungeon? Did Jessup grab somebody?”
“If he did, they’re not saying.”
“Did you call Harry?”
“I just tried but he didn’t pick up. I think he’s probably down there on the beach.”
I broke away from the window and grabbed the television remote off the coffee table. I snapped on the TV and punched in Channel 5.
“I have it on here,” I told Maggie.
On the screen was an aerial view of the pier and the surrounding beach. It looked like there were men on the beach and they were advancing on the pier’s underside from both the north and south.
“I think you’re right,” I said. “It’s gotta be him. The dungeon he made down there was actually for himself. Like a safe house he could run to.”
“Like the prison cell he was used to. I wonder if he knows they’re coming in on him. Maybe he hears the helicopters.”
“Harry said the waves under there are so loud you couldn’t even hear a gunshot.”
“Well, we might be about to find that out.”
We watched in silence for a few moments before I spoke.
“Maggie, are the girls watching this?”
“God, no! They’re playing video games in the other room.”
“Good.”
They watched in silence. The newscaster’s voice echoing over the line as he inanely described what was on the screen. After a while Maggie asked the question that had probably been on her mind all afternoon.
“Did you think it would come to this, Haller?”
“No, did you?”
“No, never. I guess I thought everything would sort of be contained in the courtroom. Like it always is.”
“Yeah.”
“At least Jessup saved us the indignity of the verdict.”
“What do you mean? We had him and he knew it.”
“You didn’t watch any of the juror interviews, did you?”
“What, on TV?”
“Yeah, juror number ten is on every channel saying he would’ve voted not guilty.”
“You mean Kirns?”
“Yeah, the alternate that got moved into the box. Everybody else interviewed said guilty, guilty, guilty. But Kirns said not guilty, that we hadn’t convinced him. He would’ve hung the jury, Haller, and you know Williams wouldn’t have signed on for round two. Jessup would’ve walked.”
I considered this and could only shake my head. Everything was for nothing. All it took was one juror with a grudge against society, and Jessup would’ve walked. I looked up from the TV screen and out toward the western horizon to the distance, where I knew Santa Monica hugged the edge of the Pacific. I thought I could see the media choppers circling.
“I wonder if Jessup will ever know that,” I said.
Forty-four
Thursday, April 8, 6:55 P.M .
The sun was dropping low over the Pacific and burning a brilliant green path across the surface. Bosch stood close to Wright on the beach, a hundred yards south of the pier. They were both looking down at the 5 × 5 video screen contained in a front pack strapped to Wright’s chest. He was commanding the SIS takedown of Jason Jessup. On the screen was a murky image of the dimly lit storage facility under the pier. Bosch had been given ears but no mike. He could hear the operation’s communications but could not contribute to them. Anything he had to say would have to go through Wright.
The voices over the com were hard to hear because of the background sound of waves crashing beneath the pier.
“This is Five, we’re in.”
“Steady the visual,” Wright commanded.
The focus on the video tightened and Bosch could see that the camera was aimed at the individual storage rooms at the rear of the pier facility.
“This one.”
He pointed to the door he had seen Jessup go through.
“Okay,” Wright said. “Our target is the second door from the right. Repeat, second door from the right. Move in and take positions.”
The video moved in a herky-jerky fashion to a new position. Now the camera was even closer.
“Three and Four are-”
The rest was wiped out by the sound of a crashing wave.
“Three and Four, say again,” Wright said.
“Three, Four in position.”
“Hold until my go. Topside, you ready?”
“Topside ready.”
On the upper level of the evacuated pier there was another team, which had placed small explosives at the corners of the trapdoor above the storage corral where they believed Jessup was holed up. On Wright’s command the SIS teams would blow the trapdoor and move in from above and below.
Wright wrapped his hand around the mike that ran along his jawline and looked at Bosch.
“You ready for this?”
“Ready.”
Wright released his grip and gave the command to his teams.
“Okay, let’s give him a chance,” he said. “Three, you have the speaker up?”
“That’s a go on the speaker. You’re hot in three, two… one.”
Wright spoke, trying to convince a man hidden in a dark room a hundred yards away to give himself up.
“Jason Jessup. This is Lieutenant Stephen Wright of the Los Angeles Police Department. Your position is surrounded top and bottom. Step out with your hands behind your head, fingers laced. Move forward to the waiting officers. If you deviate from this order you will be shot.”
Bosch pulled his earplugs out and listened. He could hear the muffled sound of Wright’s words coming from under the pier. There was no doubt that Jessup could hear the order if he was under there.
“You have one minute,” Wright said as his final communication to Jessup.
The lieutenant checked his watch and they waited. At the thirty-second mark Wright checked with his men under the pier.
“Anything?”
“This is Three. I got nothing.”
“Four, clear.”
Wright gave Bosch a wishful look, like he had hoped it wouldn’t come to this.
“Okay, on my mark we go. Keep tight and no crossfire. Topside, if you shoot, you make sure you know who you-”
There was movement on the video screen. A door to one of the storage corrals flung open, but not the door they were focused on. The camera made a jerking motion left as it redirected its aim. Bosch saw Jessup emerge from the darkness behind the open door. His arms came up and together as he dropped into a combat pose.
“Gun!” Wright yelled.
The barrage of gunfire that followed lasted no more than ten seconds. But in that time at least four officers under the pier emptied their weapons. The crescendo was punctuated by the unneeded detonation from the topside. By then Bosch had already seen Jessup go down in the gunfire. Like a man in front of a firing squad, his body seemed at first to be held upright by the force of multiple impacts from multiple angles. Then gravity set in and he fell to the sand.
After a few moments of silence, Wright was back on the com.
“Everybody safe? Count off.”
All officers under and on top of the pier reported in safe.
“Check the suspect.”
In the video Bosch saw two officers approach Jessup’s body. One checked for a pulse while the other held his aim on the dead man.
“He’s ten-seven.”
“Secure the weapon.”
“Got it.”
Wright killed the video and looked at Bosch.
“And that’s that,” he said.
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry you didn’t get your answers.”
“Me, too.”
They started walking up the beach to the pier. Wright checked his watch and went on the com, announcing the official time of the shooting as 7:18 P.M.
Bosch looked off across the ocean to his left. The sun was now gone.
PART SIX-All That Remains
Forty-five
Friday, April 9, 2:20 P.M .