The Night Fire (Harry Bosch #22) - Michael Connelly Page 0,125

you to leave. Now. The police are coming up here any moment.”

“I know. And that’s not a good thing for you, Samuel. It’s going to unravel everything. Where is she? Where is Sonja Soquin?”

“I don’t know who or what you’re talking about.”

“I’m talking about the woman they used to kill Judge Montgomery for what he did to Manley in court. The woman they used to kill Edison Banks Jr. so he would not be a threat to the shipping fortune of one of your biggest clients. The woman they used who knows how many other times before that.”

Mitchell looked like he had been hit with a bucket of cold water. His face stiffened. His eyes opened wide and an understanding of things came to them. Bosch judged it to be sincere. Genuine surprise, then a terrible understanding.

He shook his head and recovered.

“Sir,” he said. “I am asking you to leave this office right—”

There was a metal snap and a thumping sound. They overlapped in the way a drummer will hit the snare and pump the bass at the same moment. The top of Mitchell’s carefully combed hair popped up and Bosch heard the bullet hit the coffered ceiling. Mitchell then dropped hard onto his knees, his eyes now blank, unseeing. He was dead before he pitched forward, going down face-first to the floor without putting out a hand to break the fall.

Bosch looked at the open door behind his body. He expected Michaelson to step in but it was the Black Widow. Down at her side she carried a black steel automatic with a suppressor attached. She had the dark wig on and black clothing.

Bosch bent his elbows and raised his hands to show he was no threat. He hoped that the metallic sound of the shot and Mitchell’s body dropping might bring the officer from the waiting area. Or maybe Gustafson and Reyes would finally arrive and save the day.

Bosch nodded at the body.

“I guess the Manley suicide isn’t going to sell now,” he said.

She didn’t take the bait at first. She just looked at him with what was either a sneer or a crooked smile. Like an actress Bosch had always liked over the years. Oddly, he started thinking about the movies she had been in: Diner, Sea of Love, the one where she was a detective working a serial case and—

“Why did you do this?” the woman said. “You’re not even a cop.”

“I don’t know,” Bosch said. “Once a cop, always a cop, I guess.”

“You should’ve stayed away from it.”

Bosch detected a slight accent but couldn’t place it. Eastern Europe, he guessed. He knew she was going to shoot him now and there was no way he could get to his own gun in time.

“Why didn’t you leave—after Manley?” he asked. “You should have been long gone.”

“I did,” she said. “I was clear. But then I saw you. I came back for you. The job was Manley and you. You just saved me a lot of time.”

Bosch put it together: Michaelson was cleaning up a mess. No matter what hold Manley had had on him and the firm, he had finally outstayed his welcome by letting the fox into the henhouse. He had to go—and so did the fox.

“What about Mitchell?” Bosch asked. “Was he a freebie?”

“No, he was just in the way,” the woman said. “But I can make it work. You’ll get credit for him too.”

Bosch nodded.

“I get it,” he said. “Angry ex-cop goes on a rampage. Throws his lawyer off the roof, kills the founding partner. It won’t work. I was with a cop when you threw Manley over the edge.”

She made a gesture with the gun.

“It’s the best I can do under the circumstances,” she said. “I’ll be gone when they figure it out.”

She steadied her aim and Bosch knew this was it. He suddenly thought of Tyrone Power dying while fighting a fake duel and doing what he loved. And John Jack Thompson going to his grave with a terrible secret. He wasn’t ready to go either way.

“Let me ask you one question,” he said. “Hurry,” she said. “How’d you get him up there? Manley. How’d you get him to the roof?”

She gave the crooked smile again before answering. Bosch saw her aim drop again.

“That was easy,” she said. “I told him you were coming for him and that we had a helicopter waiting for him on the roof. I said we were going to Vegas, where he was getting a new