Lucifer virus and return them to us.” He gave
a cursory glance to Sam, and then quickly scanned Blake,
Dal and Patrice Bellinger. “Enough for now,” Bosch said.
“You will be briefed further upon your arrival in Zurich.”
“What about your two guys,” Dal asked. “What’s
happening with Moreau and Campion?”
“They are not your concern,” Bosch replied almost
indignantly. “We will see to their return.”
“Will see?” Dal inquired suspiciously.
Blake knew there was something Bosch and Danzig
were withholding. He shook his head, cast a sterner look
into Bosch’s eyes and spoke through clenched teeth. “You
guys are all fuckin’ nuts.”
Bosch glanced at Danzig. Both remained silent.
Sam’s shirt was still unbuttoned and sweat was
beading on his chest. He raised a slow hand and said to
Blake, “Let it go. Their level of sanity’s best discussed
between us later. Let it go, Drew.”
Blake gnawed on his lower lip and discontinued his
outburst. He paced back to the view of Wilshire and lit up
another Marlboro.
“Your flight to Switzerland will be arranged this
evening,” Bosch said. “You will be met at the Zurich
terminal and taken to our Libra facility.”
“Like you said,” Blake groaned, exhaling a plume
of smoke, “you’re gonna discuss this in more detail once
we get to your facility, correct?”
Bosch maintained his grin. “But of course.”
“I can’t take any more tonight,” Sam interjected.
“If I do, I’ll need a defibrillator.” He paused and took a
long shaky breath. “It’s almost six-thirty. I need rest and
food while there’s still enough on this planet to be had.”
He forced a sardonic grin. “Can we resume this meeting
tomorrow; say around ten o’clock or so?”
CHAPTER FOUR
Santa Monica, California
March 23, 2015
8:22 A: M
“You ain’t looking too good, Sam,” Blake said with
trepidation. “You feel okay?” He placed a cigarette between
his lips and caught Sam’s look of disapproval. “I’m not too
keen on meeting with these guys again this morning . . .”
Blake said, “. . . what with all of that pandemic shit. Surely
there’s someone else they can send to wherever the hell it
is?”
“Order me a coffee and French toast,” Sam
groaned, failing to camouflage his concern. “I’ve gotta hit
the John.”
“Uh oh, big chief ain’t looking too good,” Dal
quipped, and caught a sickly backward glance from Sam
as he exited.
Breakfast passed with little conversation. Sam
checked his watch and within minutes all four headed back
to the Marriott. They stepped from the elevator and made
their way single file to the SoCal Exports office.
“Any calls, Marcie?” Sam asked.
“No calls,” Marcie replied. “But there was a note
under the door. I put it on your desk.”
Bell hung back for a chat with Marcie as Blake and
Dal followed Sam into his office.
Sam eyed the envelope with hesitancy and then
raised his eyes to Blake and said, “Why am I feeling
paranoid about opening this?”
He slit the envelope open, peeked down and pulled
three airline tickets.
“Sam?” Dal probed.
“Sam, you okay?” Blake queried.
“Yeah.”
Blake asked, “Danzig’s little vacation package,
huh?”
“Yeah, three airline tickets,” and he passed one to
each.
“Well, well, well,” Blake sighed, “and I thought it
was all a fuckin’ nightmare.”
Sam unfolded a foolscap page and read in silence.
“What’s up?” Dal inquired. “It’s from one of those
two crazy motherfuckers, right?”
Blake sat on the edge of Sam’s desk and rubbed
both palms hard into his eye sockets.
“Los Angeles International at ten o’clock tonight,”
Sam said. “You fly out for Zurich, arrive tomorrow at four.
Not too bad – a five star hotel.”
“Jesus Christ, Sam,” Blake said cynically. “They
put all this together overnight?”
Sam studied the note further then raised his eyes
to the ceiling. “Overnight?” he chuckled. “These
a cursory glance to Sam, and then quickly scanned Blake,
Dal and Patrice Bellinger. “Enough for now,” Bosch said.
“You will be briefed further upon your arrival in Zurich.”
“What about your two guys,” Dal asked. “What’s
happening with Moreau and Campion?”
“They are not your concern,” Bosch replied almost
indignantly. “We will see to their return.”
“Will see?” Dal inquired suspiciously.
Blake knew there was something Bosch and Danzig
were withholding. He shook his head, cast a sterner look
into Bosch’s eyes and spoke through clenched teeth. “You
guys are all fuckin’ nuts.”
Bosch glanced at Danzig. Both remained silent.
Sam’s shirt was still unbuttoned and sweat was
beading on his chest. He raised a slow hand and said to
Blake, “Let it go. Their level of sanity’s best discussed
between us later. Let it go, Drew.”
Blake gnawed on his lower lip and discontinued his
outburst. He paced back to the view of Wilshire and lit up
another Marlboro.
“Your flight to Switzerland will be arranged this
evening,” Bosch said. “You will be met at the Zurich
terminal and taken to our Libra facility.”
“Like you said,” Blake groaned, exhaling a plume
of smoke, “you’re gonna discuss this in more detail once
we get to your facility, correct?”
Bosch maintained his grin. “But of course.”
“I can’t take any more tonight,” Sam interjected.
“If I do, I’ll need a defibrillator.” He paused and took a
long shaky breath. “It’s almost six-thirty. I need rest and
food while there’s still enough on this planet to be had.”
He forced a sardonic grin. “Can we resume this meeting
tomorrow; say around ten o’clock or so?”
CHAPTER FOUR
Santa Monica, California
March 23, 2015
8:22 A: M
“You ain’t looking too good, Sam,” Blake said with
trepidation. “You feel okay?” He placed a cigarette between
his lips and caught Sam’s look of disapproval. “I’m not too
keen on meeting with these guys again this morning . . .”
Blake said, “. . . what with all of that pandemic shit. Surely
there’s someone else they can send to wherever the hell it
is?”
“Order me a coffee and French toast,” Sam
groaned, failing to camouflage his concern. “I’ve gotta hit
the John.”
“Uh oh, big chief ain’t looking too good,” Dal
quipped, and caught a sickly backward glance from Sam
as he exited.
Breakfast passed with little conversation. Sam
checked his watch and within minutes all four headed back
to the Marriott. They stepped from the elevator and made
their way single file to the SoCal Exports office.
“Any calls, Marcie?” Sam asked.
“No calls,” Marcie replied. “But there was a note
under the door. I put it on your desk.”
Bell hung back for a chat with Marcie as Blake and
Dal followed Sam into his office.
Sam eyed the envelope with hesitancy and then
raised his eyes to Blake and said, “Why am I feeling
paranoid about opening this?”
He slit the envelope open, peeked down and pulled
three airline tickets.
“Sam?” Dal probed.
“Sam, you okay?” Blake queried.
“Yeah.”
Blake asked, “Danzig’s little vacation package,
huh?”
“Yeah, three airline tickets,” and he passed one to
each.
“Well, well, well,” Blake sighed, “and I thought it
was all a fuckin’ nightmare.”
Sam unfolded a foolscap page and read in silence.
“What’s up?” Dal inquired. “It’s from one of those
two crazy motherfuckers, right?”
Blake sat on the edge of Sam’s desk and rubbed
both palms hard into his eye sockets.
“Los Angeles International at ten o’clock tonight,”
Sam said. “You fly out for Zurich, arrive tomorrow at four.
Not too bad – a five star hotel.”
“Jesus Christ, Sam,” Blake said cynically. “They
put all this together overnight?”
Sam studied the note further then raised his eyes
to the ceiling. “Overnight?” he chuckled. “These
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