Майкл Коннелли - The Law of Innocence

I opened the door and a man and woman stood there. I knew they were feds before they said word one or showed their badges. They introduced themselves as agents Rick Aiello and Dawn Ruth. Over my shoulder they could see Kendall sitting on the couch and asked if there was a place we could speak privately. I stepped out through the front door and pointed to the table and chairs at the far end of the deck.

“Out here is good,” I said.

We moved toward the table, and the motion engaged the deck lights — two sconces on the wall and an overhead in the roof’s eave. That told me that the motion-activated camera attachment had engaged as well.

We stopped at the high-top table but no one sat down. I broke the ice.

“I suppose this is about the subpoena we dropped off for your boss today,” I asked.

“Yes, sir, it is,” said Aiello.

“We need to know why you believe that the bureau would have any information on the activities of Sam Scales,” Ruth said.

I smiled and spread my hands.

“Does it matter now?” I asked. “Aren’t the two of you confirming it by showing up here at my house at nine o’clock at night? I thought the subpoena might cause some commotion and consternation, but to be honest, I wasn’t expecting you guys till at least tomorrow, maybe Wednesday.”

“We’re glad you think it’s funny, Mr. Haller,” Aiello said. “We don’t.”

“No, what’s not funny is me being charged with the murder of a guy who was being watched by the FBI,” I said. “Maybe you can tell me — how did that happen?”

I was bluffing, hoping to get a confirmation or some indication I was on the right track with Sam Scales. But the agents were too smart for that.

“Good try,” Ruth said.

From the inside pocket of his standard-issue FBI blue blazer, Aiello pulled out a folded document and handed it to me.

“There’s your stupid little subpoena,” he said. “Wipe your ass with it.”

“What about my Freedom of Information Act petition?” I asked. “I guess I can wipe my ass with that too, huh?”

“We don’t expect to hear from you again,” Ruth said.

She nodded to Aiello and they turned back toward the steps. I watched them go and then, without thinking, I made a play for the camera.

“Or what?” I called after them. “You know it’s all going to come out at trial. I’m not going down so you can keep your BioGreen case secret.”

Ruth pirouetted perfectly and came back toward me. But Aiello passed her on the outside and got to me first.

“What did you say?” he asked.

“I think you heard me pretty good,” I said.

He brought both hands up and shoved me backward into the deck railing, then moved in and held me leaning back over it, the street twenty-five feet below.

“Haller, you’ve been told,” he said. “Any attempt by you to compromise a federal investigation that has zero to do with your... situation... is going to be met with a very harsh response.”

Ruth made an effort to pull her partner off me but she didn’t have the weight or muscle.

“What’s going on at that plant?” I asked. “What’s Opparizio got going? I exposed that guy for what he was nine years ago. You’re kind of late to the game.”

Aiello put his own weight into leaning me farther over. It was a wooden railing and I felt it hard against my backbone. I was afraid the rail might give way and we would both fall to the street.

“Rick!” Ruth yelled. “Let him go. Now!”

Aiello finally pulled me by the collar back onto steady ground and pointed at my face.

“You don’t know what you’re dealing with,” he said.

“Just barking up the wrong tree, huh?” I said. “Is that what—”

“You’re barking up the wrong planet, Haller,” Aiello said. “Stay away from it. Or you’ll bear witness to the power and might of the federal government.”

“Is that a threat?” I asked.

“It is what it is,” Aiello said.

Ruth yanked her partner away by the arm.

“Have a good evening,” she said.

She pulled him toward the steps. They passed Kendall, who now stood in the open doorway to the house, drawn from the television by the raised voices. I watched them go, this time deciding not to bother baiting them further. They descended the stairs to the street. I heard Ruth admonish Aiello in a tense whisper.

“What the hell was that?” she said. “Get in the car.”

I heard the doors of their car open and close. Then the engine turned over and the tires shot gravel as they took off and drove down the hill.

“Who were they?” Kendall asked.

“FBI,” I said.

“What? What did they want?”

“To scare me. Let’s go in.”

The first thing I did when I got back inside was go to my Ring camera app and check whether the confrontation on the front deck could be seen and heard clearly. It was all there, but the sound was sketchy in places. I had no doubt that it could be teased out by a sound expert if I ever needed it. I sent the video to Cisco and Jennifer so they would have copies. I also wrote a short note to accompany the file transfer: Looks like we touched a nerve.

I returned to my spot on the couch next to Kendall but found it hard to get back into the grind of going through the case files.

“What exactly did they want?” Kendall asked.

“I rattled their cage today,” I said. “They wanted to rattle mine.”

“Did they?”

“Nope.”

“Good. You want to keep working?”

“Nah, I think I’m done for the night.”

“Then, let’s go to bed.”

“Good idea.”

But the move to the bedroom was interrupted by Cisco, who called after viewing the video I had sent. I told Kendall I’d be in in a few minutes.

“That looked a little testy,” Cisco said.

“They definitely aren’t happy with the subpoena we dropped on them,” I said. “Whatever they’ve got going at BioGreen, they don’t want us in the picture.”

“But we stay with it, right?”

“Right. You hear anything from the Indians after this morning?”

“I got a report on the sidepiece. Still no sign of Opparizio.”

“We have to find him. What about that other thing you were doing?”

“Yeah, I was going to fill you in tomorrow. There was nothing there tonight. No flags. After he left you at the house, he walked down the hill to Sunset, ordered food right there at Zankou Chicken, and waited for a ride. Then I see a car pull up and it’s his girlfriend.”

“How’d you know it was his girlfriend?”

“Because I’ve been dropping off cash to her every week since you got popped.”

“Right. Forgot.”

“She had the kid in the car too. They picked him up with dinner and went home to Inglewood. And that was it.”

“He didn’t make any calls?”

“A couple but I had eyes on him. They were social calls. He was smiling, animated — not like he was reporting in as a CI.”

“Still, if we get the chance, we should check the phone. Get the call log. I want to be sure.”

I realized that my tone indicated that I was disappointed Bambadjan Bishop didn’t appear to be snitching for the prosecution or the police. And I guess I was. If he was snitching, I could use that to my advantage, plus get the ultimate payoff when it came time to expose the wrongdoing in court.

“I think after the jail surveillance thing and now the missing wallet, they’d be crazy to try to submarine us,” Cisco said.

“You’re probably right,” I acknowledged. “But stay on him one more night. You never know.”

“Done.”

“Okay, Cisco, thanks. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

As soon as I disconnected, I thought about Bosch. I had not sent him the video of the confrontation with the two FBI agents.