Bosch thought about it for a few moments.
“Because I can give you Zorrillo.”
“Shit.”
Bosch didn’t say anything. He had to give Corvo his due, had to let him run out his string. After he was done posturing they would get down to business. Bosch thought at the moment that the one thing the movies and TV shows didn’t get wrong or overexaggerate was the relationship of jealousy and distrust that existed between local and federal cops. One side always thought it was better, wiser, more qualified. Usually, the side that thought that was wrong.
“Okay,” Corvo said. “I’ll bite. What have you got?”
“Before I get into it. I have one question. Who are you, man? I mean, you’re up here in L.A. Why are you the one in Moore’s files? How come you’re the expert on Zorrillo?”
“That’s about ten questions. The basic answer to all of them is I’m a control agent on an investigation in Mexicali that is being jointly worked by Mexico City and L.A. offices. We are equidistant; we are splitting the case. I’m not telling you anything else until I know you’re worth talking to. Talk.”
Bosch told him about Jimmy Kapps, Juan Doe and the ties between their deaths and Dance and Moore and the Zorrillo operation. Lastly, he said that he had information that Dance had gone to Mexico, probably Mexicali, after Moore was murdered.
Corvo drained his beer glass and said, “Tell me something, because it’s a big fucking hole in your scenario. How come you think this Juan Doe was whacked out down there? And then, how come his body was taken all the way up here? Doesn’t make sense to me.”
“The autopsy puts his death six to eight hours before Moore found it, or said he found it up here. There were things about the autopsy that tie it to Mexicali, to a specific location in Mexicali. I think they wanted to get it out of Mexicali to make sure it was not connected to that location. It got sent to L.A. because there was already a truck heading this way. It was convenient.”
“You’re talking jigsaws, Bosch. What location are we talking about?”
“We aren’t talking. That’s the problem. I’m talking. You haven’t said shit. But I’m here to trade. I know your record. You guys haven’t taken down one of Zorrillo’s shipments. I can give you Zorrillo’s pipeline. What can you give me?”
Corvo laughed and shot a peace sign at the bartender. He brought two more beers.
“Know something? I like you. Believe it or not. I did check you out but I do like what I know of you. But something tells me you don’t have shit worth trading for.”
“You ever check out a place down there called EnviroBreed?”
Corvo looked down at the beer placed in front of him and seemed to be composing his thoughts. Bosch had to prompt him.
“Yes or no?”
“EnviroBreed is a plant down there. They make these sterile fruit flies to set loose around here. It’s a government contractor. They have to breed the bugs down there ’cause-”
“I know all of that. How come you know?”
“The only reason is that I was involved in setting plans on our operation down there. We wanted a ground Observation Point on the target’s ranch. We went into the industrial parks that border the ranch to look for candidates. EnviroBreed was obvious. American-managed. It was a government contractor. We went to see if we could set up an OP, maybe on the roof or an office or something. The ranch property starts just across the street.”
“But they said no.”
“No, actually, they said yes. We said no.”
“How come?”
“Radiation. Bugs-they got those damned flies buzzing all over the goddamn place. But most of all the view was obscured. We went up on the roof and we could see the ranch all right but the barn and stables-the whole bull-breeding facility-was in line between EnviroBreed and the main ranch facilities. We couldn’t use the place. We told the guy there, thanks but no thanks.”
“What was your cover? Or did you just come out and say DEA?”
“Nah, we cooked something up. Said we were from the National Weather Service on a project tracking desert and mountain wind systems. Some bullshit like that. The guy bought it.”
“Right.”
Corvo wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“So, how does EnviroBreed figure into it from this end?”
“My Juan Doe. He had those bugs you were talking about in his body. I think he was probably killed there.”
Corvo turned so he was looking directly at Bosch. Harry continued to watch him in the mirror behind the bar.
“Okay, Bosch, let’s say you’ve got my attention. Go ahead and spin the tale.”
Bosch said he believed that EnviroBreed, which he didn’t even know was across from Zorrillo’s ranch until Corvo told him, was part of the black ice pipeline. He told Corvo the rest of his theory: that Fernal Gutierrez-Llosa was a day laborer who either hired on as a mule and didn’t make the grade or had worked at the bug breeding plant and seen something he should not have seen or done something he should not have done. Either way, he was beaten to death, his body put in one of the white environment boxes and taken with a shipment of fruit flies to Los Angeles. His body was then dumped in Hollywood and reported by Moore, who probably handled everything on this end.
“They had to get the body out of there because they couldn’t bring an investigation into the plant. There is something there. At least, something that was worth killing an old man for.”
Corvo had his arm up on the bar and his face in the palm of his hand. He said, “What did he see?”
“I don’t know. I do know that EnviroBreed has a deal with the feds not to have their shipments across the border bothered with. Opening those boxes could damage the goods.”
“Who have you told this to?”
“Nobody.”
“Nobody? You have told no one about EnviroBreed?”
“I’ve made some inquiries. I haven’t told anyone the story I just told you.”
“Who have you made inquiries with? You called the SJP?”
“Yeah. They put out a letter to the consulate on the old man. That’s how I put it together. I still have to make a formal ID of the body when I’m down there.”
“Yeah, but did you bring up EnviroBreed?”
“I asked if they ever heard of him working at EnviroBreed.”
Corvo spun back toward the bar with an exasperated sigh.
“Who did you talk to there?”
“A captain named Grena.”
“I don’t know him. But you’ve probably spoiled your lead. You just don’t go to the locals with this sort of thing. They pick up the phone, tell Zorrillo what you just said and then pick up a bonus at the end of the month.”
“Maybe it’s spoiled, maybe it isn’t. Grena brushed me off and may think that’s it. At least I didn’t go walking into the bug place and ask to set up a weather station.”
Neither spoke. Each one thinking about what the other had said so far.
“I’m going to get down on this right away,” Corvo said after a while. “You have to promise me you won’t go fucking around with it when you get down there.”
“I’m not promising anything. And so far I’ve done all the giving here. You haven’t said shit.”
“What do you want to know?”
“About Zorrillo.”
“All you really gotta know is that we’ve wanted his ass for a long time.”
This time Bosch signaled for two more beers. He lit a cigarette and saw the smoke blur his reflection in the mirror.
“Only thing you have to know about Zorrillo is that he is one smart fucker and, like I said, it wouldn’t surprise me in the least if he already knows you’re coming. Fuckin’ SJP. We only deal with thefederales. Even them you can trust about as much as an ex-wife.”
Bosch nodded meaningfully, just hoping Corvo would continue.