he saw, then jumped out and doubled back on foot to where Chang and Chu had turned. He saw Chang one lane over, standing behind the Mustang and struggling to pull his big suitcase out of the trunk. Chu was eight cars past him and parked.
Apparently realizing he would look suspicious without luggage in a long-term lot, Chu started walking toward a nearby shuttle stop, carrying a briefcase and a raincoat like a man on a business trip.
Bosch had no props to disguise himself with, so he moved down the center of the parking rows, using the vehicles as cover.
Chang locked his car and lugged the heavy suitcase to the shuttle stop. It was an old piece of luggage without the wheels that are almost standard on all sizes these days. When he got to the shuttle stop, Chu was already standing there. Bosch cut behind a minivan and came out two cars away. This would give Chang little time to recognize that the approaching man should have luggage in the long-term lot.
“Bo-Jing Chang,” Bosch said loudly as he got close.
The suspect jerked his body around to look at Bosch. Up close, Chang looked strong and wide, formidable. Bosch saw his muscles tense.
“You’re under arrest. Please place your hands behind your back.”
Chang’s fight-or-flight response never had a chance to kick in. Chu stepped behind him and expertly clipped one cuff to his right wrist while grabbing hold of the left wrist. Chang struggled for a moment, more in response to the surprise than anything else, but Chu cuffed the other wrist and the arrest was complete.
“What is this?” Chang protested. “What I do?”
He had a strong accent.
“We’re going to talk about all of that, Mr. Chang. Just as soon as we get you back to the Police Administration Building.”
“I have flight.”
“Not today.”
Bosch showed him his badge and ID, and then introduced Chu, making sure to mention that Chu was from the Asian Gang Unit. Bosch wanted to get that percolating in Chang’s head.
“Arrest for what?” the suspect asked.
“The murder of John Li.”
Bosch saw no surprise in Chang’s reaction. He saw him physically go into shut-down mode.
“I want lawyer,” he said.
“Hold on there, Mr. Chang,” Bosch said. “Let us tell you about your rights first?.”
Bosch nodded to Chu, who produced a card from his pocket. He read Chang his rights and asked if he understood them. Chang’s only response was to ask for a lawyer again. He knew the drill.
Bosch’s next move was to call for a patrol unit to transfer Chang downtown, and a tow truck to take his car to the downtown police garage. Bosch was in no hurry at this point; the longer it took to transport Chang downtown, the closer they were to 2 P.M., the cutoff time in felony arraignment court. If they delayed Chang from getting into court, he could be secured as a guest of the city jail through the weekend.
After about five minutes of standing in silence while Chang sat on a bench in the shuttle stop’s shelter, Bosch turned and gestured to the suitcase and spoke to him conversationally, as if the questions and answers didn’t matter.
“That thing looks like it weighs a ton,” he said. “Where were you going?”
Chang said nothing. There was no such thing as small talk when you were under arrest. He stared straight forward and did not acknowledge Bosch’s question in any way. Chu translated the question and got the same non-response.
Bosch shrugged his shoulders like it didn’t matter much to him whether Chang answered or not.
“Harry,” Chu said.
Bosch felt his phone vibrate twice, the signal that he had received a message. He signaled him a few yards away from the shelter so they could talk without Chang hearing.
“What do you think?” Chu asked.
“Well, it’s clear he isn’t going to talk to us and has asked for a lawyer. So that’s that.”
“So what do we do?”
“First of all, we slow things down. We take our time getting him downtown and then we take our time booking him. He doesn’t call his lawyer till he’s been processed and with any luck that won’t be till after two. Meantime, we get warrants. His car, suitcase and his cell phone, if he has it on him. After that, we hit his apartment and his place of work. Wherever the judge lets us go. And we hope like hell we come up with something like the gun by noon Monday. Because if we don’t, he’s probably going to walk.”
“What about the