Michael Connelly - The Closers

There was a silence and Bosch guessed she was revisiting the interview that gave her the name Mackey.

“Then who is he?” she finally asked.

“Just some guy with a juvie record who was living in Chatsworth back then. He hung out at the old drive-in on Winnetka, and that was apparently a hangout for Rebecca and her friends as well. But it turns out that back in 1988 he was cleared of any involvement. We didn’t find out until after we showed the photo to a few people.”

It was a mixture of truth and shadings of the truth. Again the reporter was silent while she considered his answer.

“Who told you about him, Gordon Stoddard or Bailey Sable?” Bosch asked. “We took the photo to the school to see if he fit in there, and it turns out he didn’t even go to school there. We dropped it after that.”

“You sure about this?”

“Look, do what you want but if you put that guy’s name in the paper simply because we asked about him, you could be getting calls from him and his lawyer. We ask about a lot of people, McKenzie. That’s our job.”

More silence slipped by. Bosch thought the silence meant he had successfully defused the bomb.

“We went over to the school to look at the yearbook and copy photos,” Ward finally said. “We found out you took the only one they had in the library from ’eighty-eight.”

It was her way of confirming that Bosch had it right, but without giving up her source.

“Sorry about that,” he said. “I have the yearbook on my desk. I don’t know what kind of time you have but you can send somebody over to pick it up if you want.”

“No, there’s no time. We took a picture of the plaque that’s on the wall at the school. That will work. Besides, I found a shot of the vic in our archives. We’ll use that.”

“I saw the plaque. It’s nice.”

“They’re very proud of it.”

“So we’re all right on this, McKenzie?”

“Yes, we’re fine. I just got a little excited there when I thought you were holding back something big.”

“Don’t have anything big to report. Yet.”

“All right, then I better get back to finishing the story.”

“It’s still running in the window tomorrow?”

“If I get it finished. Call me tomorrow and tell me what you think.”

“I will.”

Bosch closed the phone and looked at Rider.

“I think we’re okay,” he said.

“Boy, Harry, you’ve really got it going today. The artful dodger. I think you could probably talk a zebra out of his white stripes if you had to.”

Bosch smiled. He then looked up at the City Hall Annex on Spring Street. Banished from Parker Center, Irvin Irving now operated from the Annex. Bosch wondered if Mr. Clean was looking down on them right now from behind one of the mirrored windows of the Office of Strategic Planning. He thought of something.

“Kiz?”

“What?”

“Do you know McClellan?”

“No, not really.”

“But you know what he looks like?”

“Sure. I saw him at command staff meetings. Irving stopped going once he was moved out to the Annex. He sent McClellan most of the time as his representative.”

“So you could pick him out, then?”

“Sure. But what are you talking about, Harry?”

“Maybe we should go talk to him, maybe spook him and send a message back down the pipe to Irving.”

“You mean right now?”

“Why not? We’re here.”

He gestured toward the Annex building.

“We don’t have the time, Harry. Besides, why pick a fight you can avoid? Let’s not deal with Irving until we have to.”

“All right, Kiz. But we will have to deal with him. I know we will.”

They didn’t speak again, each focused on thoughts on the case, until they reached the Glass House and went inside.

ABEL PRATT CONVENED all members of the Open-Unsolved Unit in the squad room as well as four other RHD detectives loaned to the unit for the surveillance. The meeting was turned over to Bosch and Rider, who took a verbal walk through the case that lasted a half hour. On a bulletin board behind them they pinned blowups of the most recent driver’s license photos of Roland Mackey and William Burkhart. The other detectives asked few questions. Bosch and Rider then turned the show back over to Pratt.

“All right, we’re going to need all hands on deck with this,” he said. “We’ll be working the sixes. Two pairs working the sound room, two pairs working Mackey and two pairs working Burkhart. I want the OU teams on Mackey and the surveillance room. The four loaners from RHD will watch Burkhart. Kiz and Harry have dibs and they want the second shift on Mackey. The rest of you can work out how you want to cover the remaining shifts. We start tomorrow morning at six, just about the time the paper will be hitting the streets.”

The plan translated into six pairs of detectives working twelve-hour shifts. The shifts changed at 6 a.m. and 6 p.m. Since it was their case, Bosch and Rider got first choice of shifts and had elected to cover Mackey beginning each day at 6 p.m. This meant working through the night, but it was Bosch’s hunch that if Mackey made a move or a call it would occur in the evening. And Bosch wanted to be there when it happened.

They would alternate with one of the other teams. The remaining two OU teams would alternate their time in the City of Industry, where a private contractor called ListenTech had what amounted to a wiretap center which was used by all law enforcement agencies in Los Angeles County. Sitting in a van next to the telephone pole carrying the line you were listening to was a thing of the past. ListenTech provided a quiet, air-conditioned center where electronic consoles were set up for monitoring and recording conversations placed or received on any phone numbers in the county, including cell phones. There was even a cafeteria with fresh coffee and vending machines. Pizza could be delivered if needed.

ListenTech could service as many as ninety taps at a time. Rider had told Bosch that the company was spawned in 2001 when law enforcement agencies began taking increasing advantage of the widening laws governing wiretaps. A private company that saw the growing need stepped in with regional wiretap centers, also known as sound rooms. They made the work easier. But there were still rules to follow.

“We’re going to hit a bit of a snag in the sound room,” Pratt said. “The law still requires that each line be monitored by a single individual-no listening to two lines at once. But we need to monitor three lines with two cops because that’s all we got. So how do we do this and still stay within the law? We alternate. One line is Roland Mackey’s cell. We monitor that full-time. But the other two lines are secondary. That’s where we alternate. They come from the property where he lives and the place where he works. So what we do is we stay with the first line when he is home and then from four to midnight, when he is at work, we switch to the work line. No matter what lines we are actually listening to, we will still get twenty-four-hour pen registers on all three.”

“Can’t we get one more loaner from RHD to cover the third line?” Rider asked.

Pratt shook his head.

“Captain Norona gave us four bodies and that’s it,” Pratt said. “We won’t miss much. Like I said, we have the pen registers.”

Pen registers were part of the telephone monitoring process. While the investigators were allowed to listen in on phone calls on the monitored lines, the equipment also registered all incoming and outgoing calls on all the lines listed in the warrant, even if they were not being monitored. This would provide the investigators with a listing by time and length of call, as well as the numbers dialed on outgoing calls and the originating numbers for incoming calls.