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The Hollow

Page 110

by Michael Connelly

As Novak said it he stepped into a kick aimed at Bosch’s midsection. But his planting foot slipped again on the wet floor and his kick went high, throwing him off balance. He went airborne and landed even harder on his back than Bosch had.

Bosch slid away from him and, using the counter for purchase, slowly got up.

“I guess you didn’t make it to Kickboxing 102,” Bosch said. “If you try that again, you’re going to taste your balls for breakfast. Now get up.”

As Novak struggled to stand, Bosch tried to check himself for injury. He was at the age where a fall could lead to cracked vertebrae or a broken hip. He passed the self-check but knew his back would be stiff and painful before the day was through.

Bosch picked up the Taser and popped out the spent cartridge. From his pocket he pulled a second cartridge and snapped it into place as Novak finally got to his feet.

“Turn around,” he ordered.

“Why?” Novak said.

“Just do what I tell you or you’re not going to like what happens.”

“Okay, okay.”

Novak slowly turned away. Bosch raised the Taser with two hands and fired the weapon. The darts hit Novak in the back and embedded. Bosch immediately hit the safety switch, stopping the electric charge.

“What the hell are you doing, Bosch?” Novak exclaimed. “That fucking hurt.”

“Not like it’s going to hurt if you don’t go where I tell you to go,” Bosch said. “You’re a weapons guy. You know what this is. A police Taser. I’ve got the safety on now, but you make one wrong move and I’ll hit you with the whole fifty thousand volts. You understand me?”

“Yeah, I understand you. Just watch yourself with that thing.”

Bosch picked up the duffel bag with his free hand.

“You watch yourself, Novak,” he said. “Now start walking to the garage. Slowly.”

“Where we going?” Novak asked.

“You want a jolt right now? Start walking.”

“Okay, I’m walking, I’m walking.”

“Slowly.”

“I need my shoes. And a shirt would be nice.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

They moved through the laundry room to the closed door to the garage.

“Now what?” Novak asked.

“Turn around and open it with your hands,” Bosch said. “It’s unlocked.”

Novak did as instructed and opened the door.

“Okay, turn back around and go in,” Bosch said. “Go to the Mercedes.”

They moved by the open rear doors of the van. Novak didn’t even glance at the bodies.

“What’s the matter, Novak?” Bosch said. “Don’t like seeing your own handiwork?”

“I wish you were in there with them, Bosch,” Novak replied.

“You missed your chance at MacLaren. Tell me something: Why’d you take out Marek? I heard he was like a son to you.”