Bosch stood up and looked around the room as if it might hold some explanation for the scene in the bathroom.

“Could another triad have taken her from him? Then killed them all to cover the tracks?”

Sun shook his head.

“That would have started a war. But the boy is not triad.”

“What? How do you know that?”

“There is only one triad in vertical Tuen Mun. Golden Triangle. I looked and he did not have the mark.”

“What mark?”

Sun hesitated for a moment, turning toward the bathroom door but then turning back to Bosch. He pulled off one of his gloves, then reached up to his mouth and pulled down his lower lip. On the soft, inside skin was an old and blurred black-ink tattoo of two Chinese characters. Bosch assumed they meant Golden Triangle.

“So you are in the triad?”

Sun released his lip and shook his head.

“No more. It has been more than twenty years.”

“I thought you can’t just quit a triad. If you leave, you leave in a box.”

“I made a sacrifice and the council allowed me to leave. I also had to leave Tuen Mun. This is how I went to Macau.”

“What kind of sacrifice?”

Sun looked even more reluctant than when he’d shown Bosch the tattoo. But slowly he reached up to his face again, this time removing his sunglasses. For a moment Bosch noticed nothing wrong, but then he realized that Sun’s left eye was a prosthetic. He had a glass eye. There was a slightly noticeable scar hooking down from the outside corner.

“You had to give up a fucking eye to quit the triad?”

“I do not regret my decision.”

He put his sunglasses back on.

Between Sun’s revelations and the horror scene in the bathroom, Bosch was beginning to feel like he was in some sort of medieval painting. He reminded himself that his daughter wasn’t in the bathroom, that she was still alive and out there somewhere.

“Okay,” he said, “I don’t know what happened here or why, but we have to stay on the trail. There’s got to be something in this apartment that will tell us where Maddie is. We’ve got to find it and we’re running out of time.”

Bosch reached into his pocket but it was empty.

“I’m out of gloves, so be careful what you touch. And we probably have blood on the bottom of our shoes. No sense in transferring it around the place.”

Bosch removed his shoes and cleaned the blood off them in the sink in the kitchenette. Sun did the same thing. The men then searched the apartment, beginning in the bedroom and working their way toward the front door. They found nothing that was useful until they got to the small kitchen and Bosch noticed that, like the apartment next door, there was a dish of salt on the table. Only the salt was piled higher on this plate and Bosch could see finger trails left by someone who had built the granules into a mound. He ran his own fingers through the pile and displaced a small square of black plastic that had been buried in salt. Bosch immediately recognized it as the memory card from a cell phone.

“Got something.”

Sun turned from a kitchen drawer he had been looking through. Bosch held up the memory card. He was sure it was the card missing from his daughter’s cell phone.

“It was in the salt. Maybe he hid it just as they came.”

Bosch looked at the tiny plastic card. There was a reason Peng Qingcai removed it before burning his daughter’s phone. There was a reason he had then tried to hide it. Bosch wanted to go to work on those reasons right away but decided that for Sun and him to extend their stay in an apartment with three bodies in the shower was not a smart move.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said.

Bosch moved to the window next to the door and looked down through the curtain to the street before giving the all-clear sign. Sun opened the door and they quickly exited. Bosch pulled the door closed before stripping off his gloves. He glanced behind him as he stepped away and saw that the old woman next door was on the walkway, kneeling in front of her altar and burning another sacrifice to the ghosts. Bosch did a double-take when he saw that she was using a candle to light one of the real hundred-dollar bills he had given her.

Bosch turned and walked quickly down the walkway in the opposite direction. He knew he was in a world beyond his understanding. He only had to understand his mission to find his daughter. Nothing else mattered.

33

Bosch retrieved the gun but left the blanket behind. As soon as he was back in the car, he took out his phone. It was an exact duplicate of his daughter’s that he’d bought as part of a package deal. He opened the rear compartment and removed the battery and memory card. He then slid the card from his daughter’s phone into the cradle. He replaced the battery, closed the compartment and switched the phone on.

While they waited for the phone to boot, Sun pulled the car away from the curb and they headed away from the building where the family had been massacred.

“Where are we going?” Harry asked.

“To the river. There is a park. We go there until we know where we are going.”

In other words, there was no plan yet. The memory card was the plan.

“That stuff you told me about the pirates when you were a kid, that was the triad, wasn’t it”

After a moment Sun nodded once.

“Is that what you did, smuggle people in and out?”

“No, my job was different.”

He said nothing else and Bosch decided not to press it. The phone was ready. He quickly went to the call records. There were none. The page was blank.

“There’s nothing on here. No record of any calls.”

He went to the e-mail file and again found the screen empty.

“Nothing transferred with the card,” he said, agitation growing in his voice.

“This is common,” Sun said calmly. “Only permanent files go on the memory card. Look to see if there are any videos or photos.”

Using the little ball roller in the middle of his phone’s keyboard, Bosch went to the video icon and selected it. The video file was empty.

“No videos,” he said.

It began to dawn on Bosch that Peng might have pulled the card from Madeline’s phone because he believed it held a record of all uses of the phone. But it didn’t. The last, best lead was looking like a bust.

He clicked on the photo icon and here he found a list of stored JPEG photos.

“I’ve got photos.”

He started opening the photos one by one, but the only shots that seemed recent were the photos of John Li’s lungs and ankle tattoos that Bosch had sent her. The rest were photos of Madeline’s friends and from school trips. They were not specifically dated but did not appear to be in any way related to her abduction. He found a few photos from her trip to the jade market in Kowloon. She had taken photos of small jade sculptures of couples in Kama Sutra positions of sexual intercourse. Bosch wrote these off as teenage curiosity. Photos that would be sure to provide uneasy giggles among the girls at school.

“Nothing,” he reported to Sun.

He kept trying, moving across the screen and clicking on icon after icon in hopes of finding a hidden message. Finally, he found that Madeline’s phone book was also on the card and had been transferred to his phone.

“Her phone book’s on here.”

He opened the file and saw the list of contacts. He didn’t know all of her friends and many were simply listed by nicknames. He clicked on the listing for Dad and got a screen that had his own cell and home numbers but nothing else, nothing that shouldn’t be there.

He went back to the list and moved on, finally finding what he thought he might be looking for when he got to the Ts. There was a listing for Tuen Mun that contained only a phone number.

Sun had pulled into a long, thin park that ran along the river and under one of the bridges. Bosch held the phone out to him.