Orozco leaned across the hood and rolled his blueprint up. As he snapped a rubber band around it, he said, “Gentlemen, don’t fuck up. If you do, my department and I will not hold back our criticism or the details of what was discussed at this meeting. Good night.”
He turned and walked back to the patrol car. The two uniforms followed without being told to. Everybody else just watched. When the patrol car drove down the ramp, Rourke said, “Well, you heard the man. We can’t fuck this up. Anybody else want to suggest something?”
“What about putting people in the vault now and waiting for them to come up?” Bosch said. He hadn’t really considered it but threw it out as it came to him.
“No,” the SWAT man said. “You put people in the vault and they are in a corner. No options. No way out. I wouldn’t even ask my men for volunteers.”
“They could be injured by the blast,” Rourke added. “No telling where or when the perps will come up.”
Bosch nodded. They were right.
“Can we open the vault and go in, once we know they have come up?” one of the agents said. Bosch couldn’t remember now whether he was Hanlon or Houck.
“Yes, there’s a way to take the door off the time lock,” Wish said. “We’d need to get Avery, the owner, back out here.”
“From what Avery said, it looks like that would take too long,” Bosch said. “Too slow. Avery can take it off time lock and open it, but it’s a two-ton door that swings open on its own weight. At best, it would take a half minute to get it open. Maybe less, but they’d still have the drop on us, the people inside. Same risk as coming at them through the tunnels.”
“What about a flash bang?” one of the agents said. “We open the vault door just a bit and throw in a flash grenade. Then we go in and take them.”
Rourke and the SWAT man shook their heads in unison.
“For two reasons,” the SWAT man said. “If they wire the tunnel as we assume they will, the flash could detonate the charges. We could see Wilshire Boulevard out there drop thirty feet, and we don’t want that. Think of the paperwork.”
When no one smiled, he continued. “Secondly, that’s a glass room we are talking about. Our position in there would be very vulnerable. If they have a lookout, we’re dead. We think they go with radio silence when they’ve got the explosives out. But what if they don’t and this lookout lets them know we’re out there. They might be ready to toss something out atus while we’re tossing something in.”
Rourke added his own thoughts. “Never mind the lookout. We put a SWAT team in that glass room and they can watch it on TV. We’ll have every station in L.A. with a camera out on the sidewalk and traffic backed up to Santa Monica. It’d be a circus. So forget that. SWAT will get with Gearson, do the recon and get the exits down by the freeway covered. We wait for them underneath and we take ’em onour terms. That’s it.”
The SWAT man nodded and Rourke continued. “Starting tonight we’ll have twenty-four-hour surveillance topside on the vault. I want Wish, Bosch, on the vault side of the building. Hanlon, Houck, on Rincon Street so you can see the door. If it looks or sounds like it is going down, I want to be alerted and I will alert SWAT to stand by. Use landlines if possible. We don’t know if they are monitoring our freeks. You people on the surveillance will have to work out a code to use on the radio. Everybody got that?”
“What if there is an alarm?” Bosch asked. “There have been three so far this week.”
Rourke thought a moment and said, “Handle it routinely. Meet the callout manager, Avery or whoever, at the door and reset the alarm and send him on his way. I’ll get back to Orozco and tell him to send his patrols on the alarms but we’ll handle things.”
“Avery will get the callouts,” Wish said. “He already knows what we think is going to happen here. What if he wants to open the vault, take a look around?”
“Don’t let him. It’s that simple. It’s his vault but his life would be endangered. We can prevent it.”
Rourke looked around at the faces. There were no more questions.
“Then that’s it. I want people in position in ninety minutes. That gives you all-nighters time to eat, piss and get coffee. Wish, give me status reports, landline, at midnight and oh six hundred. Got it?”
“Got it.”
Rourke and the SWAT man got in the car where Gearson was waiting and drove down the ramp. Bosch, Wish, Hanlon, and Houck then worked out a radio code to use. They decided to switch the streets in the surveillance area with the names of streets downtown. The idea was if anyone was listening to the simplex 5 public safety frequency, they would think they were hearing reports on a surveillance at Broadway and First Street in downtown instead of Wilshire and Rincon in Beverly Hills. They also decided to refer to the vault room as a pawnshop while on the radio. That done, the two sets of investigators split up and agreed to check in at the start of the surveillance. As Hanlon and Houck’s car headed toward the ramp, Bosch, alone with Wish for the first time since the plans were set, asked what she thought.
“I don’t know. I don’t like the idea of letting them go into the vault and then run around loose down there after. I wonder if the SWAT team can really cover everything.”
“I guess we’ll find out.”
A car came up the ramp and drove toward them. The lights blinded Bosch, and for a moment he thought of the car that had come at them the night before. But then the car swerved and came to a stop. It was Hanlon and Houck. The passenger window was rolled down and Houck held a thick manila envelope out the window.
“Mail call, Harry,” the agent said. “Forgot we were supposed to give this to you. Somebody from your office dropped it by the bureau today, said you were waiting for it but hadn’t been by Wilcox to get it.”
Bosch took the envelope and held it out away from his body. Houck noticed the discomfort on his face.
“The guy’s name was Edgar, a black guy, said you used to be partners,” Houck said. “Said it had been sitting in your mailbox two days and he thought it might be important. Said he was showing somebody a house out in Westwood and decided to drop it by while he was in the area. That sound legit to you?”
Bosch nodded and the two agents drove away again. The heavy envelope was sealed but the return address was the U.S. Armed Services Records Archive in St. Louis. He tore off the end of the envelope and looked inside. There was a thick file of papers.
“What is it?” Wish asked.
“It’s Meadows’s package. I forgot I ordered it. Did it Monday, before I knew you guys were on the case. Anyway, I’ve already seen this stuff.”
He tossed the envelope through the open window of the car onto the backseat.
“Hungry?” she asked him.
“I want some coffee at least.”
“I know a place.”
Bosch was sipping steaming black coffee from a plastic cup he had taken from the restaurant, an Italian place on Pico behind Century City. He was in the car, back in place on the second floor of the parking garage across Wilshire from the vault. Wish opened the door and got in after making her midnight check-in call to Rourke.
“They found the Jeep.”
“Where?”
“Rourke says SWAT did the reconnaissance ride through the Wilshire storm sewer but found no sign of intruders or a tunnel entry. Looks like Gearson was right. They’re tucked in one of the smaller tributary lines. Anyway, the SWAT guys then went down to the drainage wash by the freeway to set the trap. They were deploying at three exit positions from the tunnels when they came across the Jeep. Rourke said there’s a car pool parking lot down by the freeway. There’s a beige Jeep parked with a covered trailer attached. It’s theirs. The three blue ATVs are in the trailer.”