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“Thank you, ma’am,” Bosch said.

She turned away, and Bosch made his way to the gate at the rear fence. This one was wrapped tight with a chain and locked. He unzipped the duffel bag and pulled out the bolt cutter and positioned himself with his back toward the spot in the side fence where the neighbor had looked over in case she was still watching.

Once the lock was off, he returned the bolt cutter to the duffel and unwound the chain. He opened the gate and stepped through. There was a path in the brush that had been made over the years by residents of Longdale Lane climbing to the ridge where the firebreak was. Bosch followed it up the last twenty yards of the hillside until he reached the break. He was puffing when he got there. He put the duffel bag down and looked out on an expansive view of the Hollywood Reservoir and the Mulholland Dam. He momentarily thought of a murder he had worked at the reservoir. The body had been found in a pipe near the dam.

He then refocused on the work at hand.

The firebreak was a dirt road wide enough to keep a brush fire from jumping over the ridge and spreading into the neighborhood below. It also served as a path for firefighters to move along the ridge if a fire threatened.

Bosch picked up the bag and started walking south on the dirt road. The break ran parallel to the neighborhood below, and it terminated above the homes on the cul-de-sac at the end of Lakeridge Drive.

Bosch looked down on the roof and front facade of the home where he believed Nikolai Novak might be holed up. From this distance he could hear the chimes in the coastal oak at the property’s back corner. He squatted down and unzipped the duffel bag again, shoved the hard hat and safety vest in, and pulled out the binoculars and trained them on the house, looking for any indication that Novak and his thug Marek were inside.

From his downward angle on the front of the house, he saw the large picture window he had seen on Google Maps. Pale yellow curtains had been pulled almost closed, leaving a four-inch gap. Plenty of room through which to keep an eye on the street.

He saw no direct indications that the house was inhabited, but the gap in the front curtains kept his attention. He thought about next moves and came up with a plan. He pulled his phone and opened the DoorDash app. He plugged in a new delivery address — the house next door to the Novak home — and ordered a turkey sandwich from Art’s Deli in nearby Studio City, paying for a priority order because it would speed delivery. He added a solid tip and completed the order with instructions to leave it at the front door without knocking.

The order was accepted and the app estimated delivery in twenty-five minutes. Bosch used the time to go off the firebreak and work his way through the brush down the hillside and closer to the cul-de-sac. He was careful not to be in direct sight of the front window of the Novak house. He posted up using a coastal sage bush as cover, surveyed the ground for rattlesnakes, then sat down and waited.

Before long he started getting text notifications about the progress of his DoorDash order. He opened the app and tracked the approaching driver in his Prius.

When the driver was eight minutes out, a call came in from Ballard.

“Good news,” she said. “Judge Leibowitz issued his ruling and we can use the wire as evidence.”

It took Bosch a moment to unplug from what was in front of him and switch to the Talbot case.

“Okay, so what happens now?” he asked. “They’re going to appeal, right?”

“They will for sure,” Ballard said. “And they’ll ask for an ROR while they do.”

“Which we will oppose.”

“Absolutely. Winston said that with the recording making it obvious they committed the crime, the judge will be hard-pressed to lower bail, let alone agree to an ROR.”

“Good.”

“Yeah. I thought that might cheer you up.”

Bosch saw a car that looked like a Prius turn onto Lakeridge Road.

“I’m cheered,” he said. “But I’m in the middle of something and need to go.”

“Sure,” Ballard said. “But, real quick — you hear anything on Novak and the missiles?”

“They’re still looking for both, as far as I know.”

“That’s not good.”

“I’m thinking something’s going to break soon.”

“Let’s hope so. Later, Harry.”

“Later.”

Bosch disconnected. The car had now turned onto Lakeridge Drive and he confirmed that it was a Prius. He trained the binoculars on the front window of the target house. He heard the Prius come to a stop in the cul-de-sac, then the door of the car open and close. The delivery house next door to the target house was not in direct view of the front window. If someone was in there watching, the curtain might move as they attempted to increase the angle of view.

Bosch watched and waited. The delivery was made and he heard the car door open and close again and then the car drove off. He stared through the glasses, unsure if he had actually seen the right side of the curtain move slightly or if he was just imagining what he hoped to see.