Michael Connelly - 9 Dragons

“There won’t be a fourteenth floor.”

Bosch realized he was right.

“Fifteenth, then. Which one has the fifteenth floor?”

Sun went down the line, asking about the fifteenth floor, until he stopped at the third counter and waved Eleanor and Bosch over.

“Here.”

Bosch took in the man behind the counter. He looked like he had been there for forty years. His bell-shaped body seemed form-fitted to the stool he sat on. He was smoking a cigarette attached to a four-inch holder made of carved bone. He didn’t like getting smoke in his eyes.

“Do you speak English” Bosch asked.

“Yes, I have English,” the man said tiredly.

“Good. We want a room on the four-the fifteenth floor.”

“All of you? One room”

“Yes, one room.”

“No, you can’t one room. Only two persons.”

Bosch realized that he meant the maximum occupancy of each room was two people.

“Then give me two rooms on fifteen.”

“You do.”

The deskman slid a clipboard across the counter. There was a pen attached with a string and under the clip a thin stack of registration forms. Bosch quickly scribbled his name and address and slid the board back across the counter.

“ID, passport,” the deskman said.

Bosch pulled his passport and the man checked it. He wrote the number down on a piece of scratch paper and handed it back.

“How much?” Bosch asked.

“How long you stay?”

“Ten minutes.”

The deskman moved his eyes over all three of them as he considered what Bosch’s answer meant.

“Come on,” Bosch said impatiently. “How much?”

He reached into his pocket for his cash.

“Two hundred American.”

“I don’t have American. I have Hong Kong dollars.”

“Two room, one thousand five hundred.”

Sun stepped forward and put his hand down over Bosch’s money.

“No, too much.”

He started speaking quickly and authoritatively to the deskman, refusing to let him take advantage of Bosch. But Harry didn’t care. He cared about momentum, not the money. He peeled fifteen hundred off his roll and threw it on the desk.

“Keys,” he demanded.

The deskman disengaged from Sun and swiveled around to the double row of cubbyholes behind him. As he selected two keys from the slots, Bosch looked at Sun and shrugged.

But when the deskman turned back and Bosch put out his hand, he withheld the keys.

“Key deposit one thousand.”

Bosch realized he should never have flashed his roll. He quickly pulled it again, this time holding it below the counter, and peeled off two more bills. He slapped them down on the counter. When the man on the stool finally offered the keys, Harry grabbed them out of his hand and started back to the elevator.

The room keys were old-fashioned brass keys attached to red plastic diamond-shaped fobs with Chinese symbols on them and room numbers. They had been given rooms 1503 and 1504. Along the way back to the alcove, Bosch handed one of the keys to Sun.

“You’re with him or me,” he said to Eleanor.

The line for the elevator had gotten longer. It was now more than thirty men deep and the overhead video showed that the guards were putting eight to ten people on each time, depending on the size of the travelers. The longest fifteen minutes of Bosch’s life were spent waiting to go up. Eleanor tried to calm his growing impatience and anxiety by engaging in conversation.

“When we get up there, what’s the plan?”

Bosch shook his head.

“No plan. We play it like it lays.”

“That’s it? What are we going to do, just knock on doors?”

Bosch shook his head and held up the photo of the reflection again.

“No, we’ll know what room it is. There is one window in this room. One window per room. We know from this that our window is the seventh down on the side that fronts Nathan Road. When we get up there, we hit the seventh room from the end.”

“Hit?”

“I’m not knocking, Eleanor.”

The line moved forward and it was finally their turn. The security guard checked Bosch’s key and passed him and Eleanor toward the elevator door, but then put his arm out behind them and stopped Sun. The elevator was at capacity.

“Harry, wait,” Eleanor said. “Let’s take the next one.”

Bosch pushed onto the elevator and turned around. He looked at Eleanor and then at Sun.

“You wait if you want. I’m not waiting.”

Eleanor hesitated for a moment and then stepped onto the elevator next to Bosch. She called out something in Chinese to Sun as the door closed.

Bosch stared up at the digital floor indicator.

“What did you say to him?”

“That we’d be waiting on fifteen for him.”

Bosch didn’t say anything. It didn’t matter to him. He tried to compose himself and slow his breathing. He was readying himself for what he might find or be confronted with on fifteen.

The elevator moved slowly. It stunk of body odor and fish. Bosch breathed through his mouth to try to avoid it. He realized he was also a contributor to the problem. The last time he’d showered was on Friday morning in L.A. To him, that seemed like a lifetime ago.

The ride up was more excruciating than the wait down below. Finally, on its fifth stop, the door opened on fifteen. By then the only passengers left were Bosch, Eleanor and two men who had pushed sixteen. Harry glanced at the two men and then ran his finger down the row of buttons below the one marked 15. It meant the elevator would stop multiple times on the way down. He stepped off first, with his left hand behind his hip and ready to go for the gun the moment it was necessary. Eleanor came out behind him.

“I guess we’re not going to wait for Sun Yee, are we” she said.

“I’m not,” Bosch said.

“He should be here.”

Bosch wheeled around on her.

“No, he shouldn’t.”

She raised her hands in surrender and stepped back. This wasn’t the time for this. At least she knew it. Bosch turned away and tried to get a sense of their bearings. The elevator alcove was in the center of an H floor design. He moved toward the hallway to the right because he knew this would be the side of the building fronting Nathan Road.

He immediately started counting doors and came up with twelve on the front side of the hall. He moved to the seventh door, room 1514. He felt his heart hit a higher gear as a charge went through him. This was it. This was what he was here for.

He leaned forward, putting his ear to the door’s crack. He listened intently but heard no sounds from within the room.

“Anything” Eleanor whispered.

Bosch shook his head. He put his hand on the knob and tried to turn it. He didn’t expect the door to be unlocked but he wanted a feel for the hardware and how solid it might be.

The knob was old and loose. Bosch had to decide whether to kick the door in and use the element of complete surprise, or to pick the lock and possibly make a sound that would alert whoever was on the other side of the door.

He dropped to one knee and looked closely at the doorknob. It would be a simple pick but there could be a bolt lock or a security chain inside. He thought of something and reached into his pocket.

“Go to our room,” he whispered. “Find out if there’s a dead bolt or a security chain.”

He handed her the key to room 1504.

“Now?” Eleanor whispered.

“Yeah, now,” Bosch whispered back. “I want to know what’s inside here.”

She took the key and hurried down the hall. Bosch pulled his badge wallet out. Before going through airport security he had slid his two best picks behind the badge. He knew the badge would light up on the X-ray but that the two thin metal strips behind it would likely be mistaken for part of the badge. His plan had worked and now he removed the picks and quietly maneuvered them into the doorknob lock.