thick steel door was propped open and the interior was empty.
"This is how it was found when the CLETs came in. What do you think? These stiffs don't look too old. I think we got here just a little late for the show, huh?"
Bosch studied the scene for a few moments.
"Hard to say. Looks like the end of a business deal. Maybe Grena got greedy. Asked for more than he deserved. Maybe he was making some kind of play with Zorrillo, some kind of scam, and it went to shit. I saw him a few hours ago at the bullfight."
"Yeah, what did he say? That he was heading over to the pope's for a shot?"
Corvo didn't laugh and neither did Bosch.
"No, he just told me to get out of town."
"So, who shot him?"
"Looks like a forty-five to me. Just guessing. That would make Arpis over here a likely candidate."
"Then who shot Arpis?"
"Got me. But if I was guessing, it looks like Zorrillo or whoever was behind the desk pulls a gun out of the drawer there and starts popping him right here in front of the desk. He goes backwards and over the couch."
"Why would he shoot him?"
"I don't know. Maybe Zorrillo didn't like what he did to Grena. Maybe Zorrillo was starting to get scared of him. Maybe Arpis made the same play Grena did. Could've been a lot of things. We'll never know. I thought Ramos said it was three bodies."
"Across the hall."
Bosch crossed the hall into a long and wide living room. It had deep-pile, white shag carpet and a white piano. There was a painting of Elvis on the wall above a white leather couch. The rug was stained with blood from the third man, who was lying in front of the couch. It was Dance. Bosch recognized him from the mug shot even with the bullet wound in his forehead and the blond hair now dyed black. The practiced sulk had been replaced on his face with a look of wonder. His eyes were open and almost seemed to be looking up at the hole in his forehead.
Corvo walked in behind him.
"What do you think?"
"I think it looks like the pope had to get out of here in a hurry. And he didn't want to leave these three behind to talk about it. . . . Shit, I don't know, Corvo."
Corvo raised the hand-held radio to his mouth.
"Search teams," he said. "Status."
"Search Leader here. We've got the underground lab. Entrance is through the bunker structure. It's major. We have product sitting in the drying pans. Multiweight. We're home. We're gold."
"What about the priority suspect?"
"Negative at this time. No suspects in the lab."
"Shit," Corvo said after signing off. He rubbed the edge of the Motorola against the scar on his cheek as he thought about what to do next.
"The Jeep," Bosch said. "We have to go after it."
"If he's heading to EnviroBreed, the militia is there waiting. At the moment, I can't cut people loose to go running around the ranch. It's six thousand fucking acres."
"I'll go."
"Wait a minute, Bosch. This is not your action."
"Fuck it, Corvo. I'm going."
Thirty
BOSCH CAME OUT OF THE HOUSE LOOKING IN the dim light for Aguila and finally saw him standing near the prisoners and the militia. Bosch realized he probably felt more like an outsider here than Harry did himself.
"I am going after the Jeep we saw. I think it was Zorrillo."
"I am ready," the Mexican said.
Before they could move Corvo came running up. But it was not to stop them.
"Bosch, I've got Ramos in the chopper. It's all I can spare."
The silence that followed was punctuated by the sound from the other side of the hacienda of the helicopter's rotor beginning to turn.
"Go!" Corvo yelled. "Or he'll go without you."
They ran around the building and climbed back into their spots in the Lynx. Ramos was in the cockpit with the pilot. The craft abruptly lifted off and Bosch forgot about the seat belt. He was too busy putting on his helmet and night-vision equipment.
There was nothing in the scope yet. No Jeep. No runner. They were heading southwest from the ranch's population center. As he watched the yellow land go by in the night-vision lenses, Harry realized he still hadn't informed Aguila of his captain's demise. When we are done here, he decided.
In two minutes they came upon the Jeep. It was parked in a copse of eucalyptus trees and tall brush. A tumbleweed as big as a truck