the northern county. Gangs usually formed along racial lines in the county jails as a means of protection rather than out of racial enmity. It was not unusual to find members of the Nazi-leaning Wayside Whities to secretly be Jewish. Protection was protection. It was a way of belonging to a group and staving off assault from other groups. It was a measure of jail survival. Mackey’s membership was only a tenuous connection to Bosch’s theory that race possibly played a part in the Verloren case.
“Anything else on that?” he asked.
“Not that I see.”
“What about physical description? Any tattoos?”
Rider rifled through the paperwork and pulled out a jail intake form.
“Yeah, tattoos,” she said, reading. “He’s got his name on one bicep and I guess a girl’s name on the other. RaHoWa.”
She spelled the name and Bosch started to get the first tingling sense that his theory was coming strongly into play.
“It’s not a name,” he said. “It’s code. Means ‘racial holy war.’ First two letters of each word. The guy’s one of the believers. I think Garcia and Green missed this and it was right there.”
He could feel the adrenaline picking up.
“Look at this,” Rider said urgently. “He also has the number eighty-eight tattooed on his back. The guy’s got a reminder of what he did in ’eighty-eight.”
“Sort of,” Bosch replied. “It’s more code. I worked one of these white power cases once and I remember all the codes. To these guys eighty-eight stands for double H because H is the eighth letter of the alphabet. Eighty-eight equals H-H equals Heil Hitler. They also use one ninety-eight for Sieg Heil. They’re pretty clever, aren’t they?”
“I still think the year ’eighty-eight might have something to do with this.”
“Maybe it does. You got anything in there about employment?”
“Looks like he drives a tow truck. He was driving a tow truck when he stopped to take the leak that got him the lewd and lash last time. This lists three different previous employers-all tow services.”
“That’s good. That’s a start.”
“We’ll find him.”
Bosch looked back down at the arrest report in front of him. It was a burglary from 1990. Mackey had been caught by a police dog in the concessions shop of the Pacific Drive-in Theater. He had broken in after hours, setting off a silent alarm. He had pilfered the cash drawer and filled a plastic bag with two hundred candy bars. His exit was slowed because he decided to turn on the cheese warmer and make himself some nachos. He was still inside the building when a responding officer with a dog sent the animal inside the shop. The report said Mackey was treated for dog bite injuries to the left arm and upper left thigh at County-USC Medical Center before being booked.
The record indicated that Mackey pleaded guilty to breaking and entering, a lesser charge, and was sentenced to time served-sixty-seven days in the Van Nuys jail-and two years probation.
The next report was a violation of that probation for an assault arrest. Bosch was about to read the report when Rider took the sheaf of photocopies out of his hands.
“It’s time to go see Garcia,” she said. “His sergeant said if we’re late we’ll miss him.”
She stood up and Bosch followed. They headed toward the Van Nuys Division. The Valley Bureau Command offices were on the third floor.
“In nineteen ninety Mackey was popped for a burglary at the old Pacific Drive-in,” Bosch said as they walked.
“Okay.”
“It was at Winnetka and Prairie. There’s a multiplex there now. That puts it about five or six blocks from where the Verloren weapon was stolen a couple years before. The burglary.”
“What do you think?”
“Two burglaries five blocks apart. I think maybe he liked working that area. I think he stole the gun. Or he was with the person who stole it.”
Rider nodded and they went up the stairs to the police station lobby and then took the elevator the rest of the way up to Valley Bureau Command. They were on time but still were made to wait. While sitting on a couch Bosch said, “I remember that drive-in. I went there a couple times when I was a kid. The one in Van Nuys, too.”
“We had our own on the south side,” Rider said.
“They turn it into a multiplex, too?”
“No. It’s just a parking lot. They don’t put multiplex money down there.”
“What about Magic Johnson?”
Bosch knew the former Laker basketball star had invested heavily in the community, including opening movie theaters.