Michael Connelly - 9 Dragons

Garfield was a main north-south corridor and he got a full view of the city’s commercial district as he headed south. Monterey Park could easily pass for a neighborhood in Hong Kong. The neon, the colors, the shops and the language on the signs were geared toward a Chinese-speaking populace. The only thing missing were the towers rising high above. Hong Kong was a vertical city. Monterey Park was not.

He turned left on Garvey and pulled his phone to call Chu.

“Okay, I’m on Garvey. Where are you?”

“Come down and you’ll see the big supermarket on the south side. We’re in the lot. You’ll pass the club on the north side before you get here.”

“Got it.”

He closed the phone and kept driving, his eyes scanning the neon on the left side. Soon he saw the red 88 glowing above the door of a small club with no other demarcation on it. Seeing the numeral rather than hearing the spoken number from Chu prompted a realization. It was not the address of the place. It was a benediction. Bosch knew from his daughter and his many visits to Hong Kong that 8 was a lucky number in Chinese culture. The numeral symbolized -infinity-the infinity of luck or love or money or whatever it was you wanted in life. Apparently, the members of Brave Knife were hoping for double infinity by putting 88 over their door.

As he drove by he could see light behind the front plate-glass window. The slatted blinds were turned open slightly and Bosch could see about ten men either sitting or standing around a table. Harry kept going and three blocks later pulled into the parking lot of the Big Lau Super Market. He saw a government-model Crown Victoria at the far end of the lot. It looked too new to be LAPD and he figured Chu was riding with the MPPD. He pulled into the space next to it.

Everybody put their windows down and Chu made introductions from the backseat. Herrera was behind the wheel and Tao was riding shotgun. Neither of the Monterey Park officers was close to thirty years old but that was to be expected. The small cop shops in the outlying cities around Los Angeles acted as feeder departments for the LAPD. The cops signed up young, got a few years’ experience and then applied to the LAPD or the L.A. County Sheriff’s Department, where carrying the badge was seen as more glamorous and fun and the added experience gave them an inside edge.

“You IDed Chang?” Bosch asked Tao.

“That’s right,” Tao said. “I pulled him over on an FI stop six months ago. When Davy came around with the photo, I remembered him.”

“Where was this?”

While Tao spoke his partner kept his eyes on Club 88 up the street. Occasionally, he raised a pair of binoculars to check out people going or coming more closely.

“I ran across him in the warehouse district down at the end of Garvey. It was late and he was driving a panel van. Looked like he was lost. He let us look and the van was empty but I figure he was going to make a pickup or something. A lot of counterfeit goods go through those warehouses. It’s easy to lose your way in there because there’s so many of them and they all look the same. Anyway, the van wasn’t his. It was registered to Vincent Tsing. He lives in South Pasadena but he’s pretty well known to us as a member of Brave Knife. He’s a familiar face. He has a car lot here in MP and Chang works for him.”

Bosch understood the procedure. Tao had pulled the van over but with no probable cause to search it or to arrest Chang, he was reliant on Chang’s volunteerism. They filled out a field interview card with information he provided and checked the back of the van after being given permission.

“And what, he just volunteered that he was in the Brave Knife triad?”

“No,” Tao said indignantly. “We noted his tattoo and the ownership of the vehicle. We put two and two together, Detective.”

“That’s good. Did he have a DL?”

“He did. But we already checked that address tonight. It’s no good. He moved.”

Bosch glanced back at Chu in the backseat. This meant that if the address on Chang’s driver’s license had been correct, they probably would have already encountered the suspect without Bosch.

Chu looked away from Bosch’s stare. Bosch checked himself and tried to stay cool. If he blew up on them, he would lose all cooperation and the case would suffer for it. He didn’t want that.

“You have the shake card with you?” he asked Tao.

Tao handed a 3 × 5 card out the window and across to Bosch. Harry put the overhead light on and read the information handwritten on the card. Since field interviews had been challenged repeatedly over the years by civil rights groups as unwarranted shakedowns, the information forms filled out by officers were universally referred to as “shake cards.”

Bosch studied the information on Bo-Jing Chang. Most of it had already been relayed to him. But Tao had conducted a very thorough field interview. There was a cell phone number written on the card. It was a watershed moment.

“This number is good”

“I don’t know about now-these guys dump phones all the time. But it was good then. I called it right on the spot to make sure he wasn’t fucking with me. So all I can tell you is that it was good back then.”

“Okay, we have to confirm it.”

“You’re just going to call the guy up and say, how ya doin?’”

“No, you are. Block your ID and call the number in five minutes. If he answers, tell him you’ve got a wrong number. Let me borrow the binocs and, Davy, you come with me.”

“Wait a minute,” Tao said. “What are we doing fucking with the phones”

“If the number’s still good we can go for a wire. Give me the glasses. You call while I’m watching and we confirm, get it?”

“Sure.”

Bosch handed the shake card back to Tao and took the binoculars in return. Chu got out of their car, came around to Bosch’s ride and got in.

Bosch pulled out onto Garvey and headed toward Club 88. He scanned the parking lots, looking for a place to get close.

“Where were you parked before?”

“Up there on the left.”

He pointed to a lot and Bosch turned in, circled around and killed the lights as he pulled into a space that was facing Club 88 across the street.

“Take the glasses and see if he answers his phone,” he told Chu.

As Chu zeroed in on Chang, Bosch studied the entire view of the club, looking for anyone who might be looking out the window in their direction.

“Which one is Chang?” he asked.

“He’s at the left end, next to the guy in the hat.”

Bosch picked him out. But he was too far away for Harry to make any confirmation of Chang as the man in the video from Fortune Liquors.

“You think it’s him or you just going with Tao’s ID?” he asked.

“No, it’s a good ID,” Chu said. “It’s him.”

Bosch checked his watch. Herrera should’ve made the call. He was growing impatient.

“What are we doing, anyway?” Chu asked.

“We’re building a case, Detective. We confirm that number, then we get a warrant for a wire. We start listening to him and we find things out. Who he talks to, what he’s up to. Maybe we hear him talk about Li. Maybe we don’t and we spook him and we see who he calls. We start closing in. The point is, we take our time and do it right. We don’t ride in on horses, shooting up the town.”

Chu didn’t respond. He kept the binoculars locked on his eyes.

“Tell me something,” Bosch said. “Do you trust those two guys, Tao and Herrera?”

Chu didn’t hesitate.

“I trust them. You don’t?”

“I don’t know them, so I can’t trust them. All I know is that you took my case and my suspect and showed everything all around that police department.”